Chapter 7
Lazarus
Scrolling through my mobile, checking the stock market as I do every morning, I meander down the stairs and head directly to the kitchen. It’s early enough that I know my lazy packmates are likely still asleep, though I do envy Cormac and Crawford their reasoning for remaining cozied up in bed, sound asleep.
It was late, just gone midnight, when the pair waltzed their happy arses into the house, smelling like a banana-cantered desert with faint hints of caramel that always gives me a hankering for something sweet. More specifically, someone sweet. As it was, the little minx is still somewhat jazzed off at me for the part I played in crossing a line I didn’t realise would result in me residing in the doghouse for the past six weeks.
I’m a patient man, though, and I have no qualms about earning the forgiveness of the omega I’ve not stopped thinking about since the moment we met at that hospital. Of course, she looked as sweet as she smells, her scent a constant in our home no thanks to Barnes and his constant vicinity to Zira at the university. At the first look at those tear-glassed eyes, a shade several degrees lighter than mine in colour, and the pale skin painted with dark freckles and full lips meant for kissing, I was a goner. Zira Favero resides in my head at all times now, and I wouldn’t have it any other way, even if she puts plenty of energy into ignoring my very existence or telling me off for daring to speak to her.
Lips twitching with amusement, I go about fixing a cup of tea, lost to my thoughts of the prickly, little omega I’ve grown beyond fond of. I’m so deep in my thoughts of her and her flame-like hair and fiery temper that I almost spill scalding hot water over the edge of my mug when Barnes appears like a phantom.
“You’re up early, love. Everything alright?” I ask quietly, pulling down another mug to make him a cuppa, too.
Barnes yawns, his dark hair a disarray on his head that indicates he might not have had the most restful sleep, and leans against the kitchen counter beside me. “Had the worst dream.”
“Want to talk about it?” I offer, sliding over his cup as soon as it’s made the good ol’ British way. The last time I had to watch one of my pack mates try their hand at making a cup of tea, I almost had a bloody conniption. Since then, not one of them will dare make a tea for themselves or others for fear of receiving an English verbal tongue lashing.
Barnes rubs at his face with a muttered form of gratitude before he says, “Apparently, Zira sneaking off has affected me more than I thought it could. I kept dreaming that she was taken and hurt and I couldn’t save her because I didn’t know where she was.”
Ah. I see.
“Not too dissimilar to my dreams, then. At least we know she’s safe and sound, and she received the phone without the same amount of fuss as she’s put up with us paying Shannan’s medical bills,” I offer, lips twitching when Barnes snorts his tea when he tries to laugh.
He wipes his face and shakes his head. “Too true. I don’t know how those bastards did it, but apparently, she accepted the phone with little more than a glare.”
“It was the pasta, I’ll put my money on it. After seeing the difference in her after two of your cinnamon rolls? Yeah, no doubt those pricks suckered her into accepting their lavish gift after feeding her enough carbs to send her to sleep for a week,” I snicker, gesturing my head to the front porch and taking my tea with me.
Barnes follows behind, dressed in his comfy sleep trousers and a shirt tight enough that his nipples are visible, and I roll my eyes as I take a seat. Although my body is nothing to turn one’s nose up at, my abs still intact despite me sitting two years under forty and a decade older than the youngest of our pack that takes a seat beside me, I’m not one to show it off with tight clothing like my younger counterparts. Not that I don’t applaud them for their confidence and comfort. I’m simply happier in comfortable sweaters, loose trousers, and just general cozy clothes. Well, unless I’m forced into a suit or tuxedo, that is. Then I’ll rock one of those like the professional businessman I am.
Propping one ankle on top of my opposite knee, I take a sip of my drink, enjoying the crisp air of early morning and the pace and tranquillity of the world here, surrounded by trees and nature and all things calming.
“Think we could convince her to give us a chance if we fed her?” Barnes wonders, sounding part amused and part serious, as though he’s actually giving the idea some thought.
I shrug. “I can’t say it could hurt our cause. She did seem to enjoy the rolls yesterday morning.”
“Not enough, apparently, or she wouldn’t have snuck out while we were on the back porch talking,” Barnes argues, and I shut my mouth at that, because it’s a fair statement to make.
Just as I open my mouth to change the topic to work to distract him, Barnes and I being partners in investments and stocks when he’s not working as an art professor at the university, I hear the faint crunch of gravel. I pause and listen, the telltale sound of a car rolling down our gravel driveway, and I announce, “Looks like we have an early morning visitor.”
Barnes swallows a large mouthful of tea as he frowns, pulling the mug away in time to ask, “Who would be visiting at this hour? It’s barely eight in the morning.”
“Suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” I say, finishing my tea despite it being still too hot to consume at such a rapid pace, and placing the empty mug on the table between Barnes and me.
Propping my hand on my fist as I rest my elbow on the arm of my chair, I wait patiently for the visitor to roll down the driveway and park, the older car idling for a long moment before the ignition turns off and the door opens, revealing a sight sent from the angels above.
With her hair piled in a messy knot of ginger waves, a few pieces loose around her face to frame it to perfection, and dressed in nothing more than the tightest fucking clothing I’ve ever seen gracing a woman’s body, I watch like a hawk as Zira reaches into the car to retrieve a tote bag filled to the brim, hooking it over her shoulder before bumping her door with her hip to close it.
As soon as she’s standing upright and walking slowly toward the wooden steps that will bring her to the porch where we’re seated, I roam my eyes over every inch of her in quick succession. Her pale-green gym wear, clothing that is literally suctioned to her body and leaves no curve to the imagination, matches her eye colour, a pretty mint shade several hues lighter than my own. Creamy pale skin flashes between her sports bra that covers her perky bust and the waist band over her leggings that outline the perfect swoop of her waist and hips, and I can’t help but watch as she shivers against the chill in the air that always comes in the mornings.
I’m still watching as her sneaker-covered feet trudge up the steps and her closed fist reaches for the door, though she doesn’t knock. She pauses, and I fight the smile on my face as I watch with absolute fascination as she mentally gives herself a pep talk before finally knocking.
“You’re up early, sweetheart,” I quietly voice, not wanting to disturb the peace around us but wanting to point out that she isn’t alone on the porch.
Apparently, I’m not quiet enough, because Zira startles hard enough that she jerks back from the door and wide, green eyes snap in our direction in alarm. Slapping her hand over her chest, she sighs with relief when she finds only Barnes and me, and my smile finally breaks free when she breathes, “You scared valuable years off my life, damn it. What are you two doing skulking around out here?”
“Enjoying the view, darling,” I answer easily, eyes still on the beauty that she is and not the beauty of nature that surrounds us.
Before she can utter another word, Barnes stands and discards his tea, tucking his hands in his pocket awkwardly as he asks, “Is everything okay?”
Dropping her hand, Zira shrugs before she straightens her spine and blurts, “Well, I was only stopping by because I wanted to speak with you both. I hope it’s alright that I came by without calling. I don’t have your numbers anymore since Ford murdered my old one.”
I frown then. “I’ve added our numbers to your contacts, sweetheart. You didn’t look through your new phone yet?”
A sweet little blush stains her cheeks suddenly, and I get my answer before she utters a word. “Uh, not really? I mean, I crawled to the couch by the time the twins dropped me home and I fell asleep before I could explore the very expensive phone they replaced my old one with.”
“Ah. That’s fair. I’ll let you off just this once,” I tease, and the blush deepens enough that my grin appears once more. “Come inside. I’ll make you a cup of tea and you can share what it is you’ve come to speak with us about.”
Zira nods, the bun atop of her head bobbling adorably before she backs up enough to let Barnes and me pass. As I do, I catch a heady hit of her scent, and my mouth instantly waters with a need to take a bite of dessert I’m not welcome to. She smells divine, of cream and banana, caramel and sugar. It’s undoubtedly my favourite fragrance in the entire world.
Swallowing hard, I follow after Barnes as we enter the house, and Barnes leads Zira to the living room while I head back to the kitchen to make another cup of tea. While I’m brewing and concocting her beverage, I hear Barnes ask Zira, “So, you’re alright? There’s nothing wrong?”
I hear her sigh before Zira confesses, “Nothing’s wrong, no, but I wanted to come by to apologize.”
I almost drop the spoon in my hand, her tea forgotten as I turn and peer at her from where I stand at the counter. “Apologise? What the hell for?”
Cringing, Zira, crosses her arms over her chest and explains, “Well, for one, I’m sorry for stopping by so early. I have a class in a couple of hours, and I know I would be too tired afterward to provide my apology. Second, I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you both since Mom’s surgery.”
Silence follows, and I’m sure a mouse fart would shake the house with its volume with how quiet it grows. Barnes is the first to recover, thankfully, and states, “You don’t have to apologise, Freckles. We understand we overstepped but—”
“You were trying to do something nice for me, something thoughtful and meaningful, and I took it the wrong way and ostracised you for it,” Zira interrupts, smiling knowingly at Barnes as he shakes his head, pauses, and shakes his head again. “Look, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve the way I acted, and I’m grown and aware enough to accept the responsibility for my actions. I realise now that I was out of order and acting on thoughts and feelings of the past. The only reason I can offer is that money and I have a not so great history, and knowing how much those surgeries cost and the aftercare that came with it set my teeth on edge. Finding out you paid for it behind my back wasn’t great, but I should have realized it wasn’t done maliciously or to gain something, and I’m sorry for not giving you both the credit you deserved from me.”
Hell, I'm sure you could push me over with a single finger nudge with how shocked I am, and I can do nothing but stare at the rare beauty sitting on the edge of the couch, twisting her fingers together nervously. Barnes is no better, blinking at her like a bloody owl, and it’s the only thing to shake me out of my shock.
Finishing up with her tea, I carry it over to her and take a seat beside her, safe knowing that I might not get lynched now. Zira smiles softly as she accepts her drink, the pink stain in her pale skin an appealing shade that I’d love to trace, but I withhold knowing that we’re all skating on thin ice at the moment.
Instead, I gently question, “How did this change of heart come about, if you don’t mind me asking? Not that I don’t accept your apology. I do. You didn’t have to give one at all, in all honesty. We realize we should have discussed everything with you before we acted, so perhaps we owe you an apology, too.”
Zira huffs out a laugh before blowing on her tea and taking a sip, her eyelashes fluttering closed for a brief moment before she lowers her mug and cradles it in her lap as she explains, “I spoke to Mom and she helped me see the error of my ways. I’d decided I was going to apologise when Ford and Mac collided with me, and I told them as much when I realized who they were.”
“Those gits,” I mutter, shaking my head when it dawns on me that Cormac knew damned well that I wasn’t in the doghouse any longer and the prat let me believe it anyway.
A grin made by angels sparks over her mouth briefly before she continues. “I see now that I overreacted, and I wanted to extend a peace offering to say sorry and thank you for what you’ve done for Mom. And… and for me.”
Barnes, finally coming to, shakes his head once more and says, “You don’t need to give us anything, Zira. I’ve already told you, we don’t want payment. Which reminds me.”
He’s out of his seat the next moment, heading toward the bookcase that frames the oversized television, tugging several envelopes from between the books before returning.
Raising an eyebrow, Zira eyes the envelopes with a deepening blush and mutters, “You still have it in envelopes.”
“Yes, because we’re not taking it. We didn’t pay your mom’s bills so you owed us. I don’t know if you’re already aware or not, but we’re not exactly hard up for cash, Freckles. We have enough to spare, and we wanted to make your life easier. The money means nothing to us. Making sure you're taken care of means the world. Do you understand now?” he pushes, an urgency to his voice that has Zira’s eyes snapping up from the envelopes and to his dark sapphire eyes.
They stare at one another for a long while, almost communicating without uttering a single word, and my lips twitch as I watch with rapt attention as understanding finally sinks into that pretty head of the omega we’ve not been able to stop thinking about. “I get it. I’m sorry.”
“Stop, darling. No more apologies needed. You were forgiven long before now, though we certainly wouldn’t have faulted you for remaining mad a little longer,” I jest, winking at her when she laughs, living for the redness that seeps into her cheeks once more. Seeing how easily she blushes has grown into quite the addiction over the weeks, one I won’t be giving up any time soon or ever.
Zira chews the inside of her cheek for only a moment before nodding and declaring, “Then here’s my olive branch.”
She places her mug on the coffee table, using a coaster like a civilised being, and reaches for the tote bag she came with. It’s stuffed full, and I managed to spy bread rolls at the top before she stands. She steps past Barnes and me, heading directly to the kitchen, and she begins unloading the tote with several food items and spreading them over the marble counter.
“As a thank you, I’d like to make you all breakfast this morning. I won’t be able to stay and enjoy it with you, because I have to go to the gym for my classes, but I wanted to do something nice for you to start showing you that I appreciate what you did and it means a lot to me that you took care of my mom when I couldn’t,” she finishes, her smile warbling slightly before steeling.
The urge to rush over and comfort her hits me harder than a well-executed swing of a sledge hammer, and I have to actively fight to stay where I’m seated. Barnes seems to suffer with the same struggles, his fists tightening as his jaw clenches at the brief slip of vulnerability Zira displays before it’s gone just as quickly.
Standing from my seat then, I walk over to her and say, “You don’t have thanks by cooking for us, darling. A smile would have sufficed.”
She flashes one then, and I’d take those as currency for the remainder of my life if she kept paying me with them. A smile from Zira could quite possibly cure the world, and I won’t be convinced otherwise.
“I’m making breakfast sandwiches for you all, and I won’t be talked out of it. This is my thanks and sorry, so let me do this,” she pleads softly, and I nod slowly, caving like the sucker I’ve become. Hell, she could ask me to kneel at her feet so she could use me as a footrest and I’d drop to all fours without so much as a hint of hesitation.
How has she managed to wield such power over me in such little time? It’s as maddening as it is fascinating.
Taking a seat at the kitchen bar, Barnes joining me a moment later, we both sit back and settle in to watch Zira for the next half an hour as she goes about making up mountains of food fit for a village. Of course, it will all be devoured, because this is a house of ravenous alphas. We’re hungry, all the time, and there’s no doubt in my mind how aware Zira is of that fact.
By the time she’s done, several more strands of her fiery hair have come loose and there are five plates stacked with two breakfast sandwiches each, and three hefty bowls of sides served to us ready for consumption.
Like the smell of cooked breakfast and delicious omega was enough to lure the others out of bed, Mac, Ford, and Alek come stumbling down the stairs single file, each one in varying degrees of undress and sleep.
“What smells so good?” Alek slurs, rubbing his eyes as he walks into the kitchen, completely oblivious to the omega washing her hands in the sink after clearing up all the dishes she used to make us breakfast.
“Zira?” Mac blurts directly after.
“Well, yeah, she does. But I mean, what’s the smell coming from in here,” Alek mumbles, fists still in his eyes like he’s trying to rub his eyesight back to normal. Bloody idiot.
Hiding my smile behind my hand, I watch Alek just as the omega in question laughs loudly, and Alek drops his hands suddenly, eyes now wide with shock. “Holy shit. Zira.”
“Dumbass,” Ford snickers, entering the kitchen, seemingly recovering faster than his brother and Alek. He doesn’t hesitate as he steps close to Zira, offering her a quick hug as she dries her hands, and says, “Morning, pretty girl. What brings you here?”
I can see from the knowing gleam in his eye that he’s already aware, and I roll my own as I realize he, too, knew Zira was planning on unleashing us from the doghouse.
“You’re both shitheads,” I declare, and Ford sends me a smug look that makes Zira laugh and swat him with a towel.
“I made my apology with words and food. Dig in before it gets cold,” she commands sternly, and it lights something in my chest that I never want extinguished. Absolutely maddening. “I have an hour to get to the gym and set up, so enjoy your breakfast, guys.”
She flashes us a pleased grin, happy with herself now that she’s offered her apology and cooked us a feast, and folds the tea towel and replaces it before folding her now empty tote bag and tucking it beneath her arm.
“Woah, wait, you’re going to the gym?” Alek blurts, eyeing the food and then Zira.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she nods and explains, “I teach a class before working out on weekends.”
Interest sparks in my packmates eyes, and I know what he’s about to ask before he voices his question. “Would you mind if I tagged along?”
“But we have a—” Mac starts, right before Alek reaches for a hash brown and stuffs it into the twin’s mouth. Then, when he turns back to a wide-eyed and highly amused Zira, he says, “Ignore him. I’d love to join you if you’re up for company.”
Zira checks her watch and shrugs, giving in much easier than I would have expected. “Sure. If you can eat fast enough without being sick, then you’re welcome to come with.”
I swear on all that is good in the world, I’ve never seen the Viking devour so much food so quickly in all of the years I’ve known him. Which is saying a lot, because I’ve known him for over a decade after meeting at North Five university where I used to be a professor of business and he was a fresh student studying his craft of architecture. In all those years, I’ve never seen him inhale his food quite like he does now, and I’m all too amused as I watch Zira battle her amusement while the rest of us eat at a normal pace with her pinching small pieces of food from each of our plates while she waits.
When Ford playfully swats her hand away and she laughs, I realize that this is the best morning I’ve had in eons. And I decide, here and now, that I will fight tooth and nail to have more of them, with my pack, and with Zira.
So, with that in mind, I finish the scrumptious breakfast and brush my hands off before asking, “Reckon there’s room for another on this trip to the gym?”
Zira’s smiling big as she shrugs. “I don’t know what you guys find so interesting about me going to the gym, but sure, the more the merrier, right?”
Famous last words, because we’re all dressing for the gym the next moment, soon following Zira out of the house and behind her car as she drives to the gym with us tucked in Alek’s truck directly behind her.
What a morning, indeed.