Chapter 26
Silas
Three days. That’s how long it’s been since I announced that each of us would start taking Lark on proper dates.
Three days of watching Graham come down the stairs from the third floor like a man who won the damn lottery.
Three days of grinding my teeth and putting in more hours in the workshop than I have in months.
A full week since the afternoon I walked into the house and heard the sounds coming from her nest. My jaw tightens at the memory.
A week is more than long enough. Which is why tonight is mine.
I lean back against the kitchen counter, arms folded. Waiting. For Lark.
I’ve spent the last few days paying even closer attention to her than usual. I notice everything, not just the obvious stuff. Her scent, the way she laughs, the way she curls into whichever alpha happens to be closest when she’s tired.
The other things. The way she lifts in the pack gym. Strong, controlled movements. Clean form. No hesitation when the weight gets heavy. Most omegas prefer lighter workouts, but Lark loads plates onto the bar like she’s got something to prove.
She doesn’t. She’s already proven it. She’s athletic. Fit. Strong as hell. It’s hard to tear my eyes away.
And watching her is how I ended up deciding on tonight’s plan. We’re not going somewhere fancy. Not some overpriced restaurant where we sit across a table pretending we’re strangers. That wouldn’t be Lark.
She grew up in a wealthy pack. Wealthier than mine, from what I’ve pieced together. But she’s never once acted like it. She’s practical. Grounded. A lot like me. Which is why tonight we’re going somewhere simple. Fun. Somewhere she can move.
Footsteps on the stairs pull my attention up just in time to see her appear at the bottom.
My little bird. She’s wearing jeans that hug her ass, cut to emphasize the strength in her thighs, the curve of her hips, the long line of her legs. On top she’s wearing a soft long-sleeved tee that dips just enough in the front to hint at the swell of her breasts.
Nothing flashy. Nothing dramatic. Just Lark.
My jaw locks automatically, muscles tightening as my alpha immediately wakes up and takes notice.
Mine.
The thought hits fast. Instinctive. It slides through my mind before I can stop it. I push it back where it belongs. Not mine. Not yet, anyway. Not until I can pull Saint’s head out of his ass. Only then.
I’m working on it.
Lark pauses halfway across the kitchen when she notices how intensely I’m watching her. “Is this okay?” she asks, glancing down at herself. “You said casual.”
“You look great.” I straighten off the counter, forcing my expression back into something resembling calm.
Her mouth curves a little at that, but her eyes stay on me. Curious. Smart girl.
I reach into my pocket. “I’ve got something for you.”
Her brows lift. “A courting gift?”
“Yeah.”
I pull out the small box and hold it out to her. For a second she just looks at it, then she takes it carefully into her hand. She opens it. Inside sits a pair of small gold earrings shaped like birds. Their wings are outstretched, the metal shaped in simple, clean lines. Nothing flashy. Just Lark.
My gaze drifts over her automatically as she studies them. The warm gold will pick up the tone of her skin. The color in her eyes. The burnished highlights in her hair.
Perfect.
My little bird deserves beautiful things. I wanted something she could wear every day, Something quiet enough that it fits her life but specific enough that she'd know exactly why I chose it.
Birds. Her name. My nickname for her.
Her fingers hover over the earrings. “Silas…” she breathes.
I watch her face. “They’re simple,” I say, shrugging one shoulder. “Figured they fit you.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “They’re perfect.”
She sweeps her hair over one shoulder. It stirs her warm, caramel scent.
Mine.
I clamp down on the thought and focus on Lark. She’s carefully sliding the first earring into place. I watch her hands. Then she flips her hair to the other shoulder and adds the second.
I brush my fingers along her neck and the curve of her ear. She shivers. Her eyes go soft.
“How do they look?” she asks.
I cup her chin, tilting her head slightly so the light catches the gold. “Perfect,” I say quietly.
For a moment neither of us moves. Then she steps closer. It’s subtle, but it pulls her right into my space. Her warm caramel scent wraps around me. Deeper now.
My alpha wakes up again.
She lifts a hand, fingers grazing the front of my shirt. “You’re very good at this courting thing,” she murmurs.
I huff a quiet laugh. “Don’t tell Graham. He’ll turn it into a competition.”
Her lips twitch. Then she leans up and kisses me. It’s soft. I let it stay that way for about half a second before my hand slides to the back of her neck and I pull her closer.
She makes a small sound against my mouth.
Christ.
My grip tightens automatically, instincts pushing for more. Deeper. Closer. I force myself to ease up before things get out of hand. When we finally break apart, she’s breathing a little faster. So am I.
Her fingers drift up to touch one of the earrings. “I love them,” she says.
Good. Because seeing them on her is going to drive me half out of my mind.
I kiss the soft skin between her brows. “You ready?”
She studies me for another second, clearly suspicious, then nods. “Where are we going?”
I grab my keys from the counter. “You’ll see.”
Her eyes narrow. “That’s what Graham said, too.”
A slow grin pulls at the corner of my mouth. “I love Graham like a brother, but I promise, this date won’t be anything like what he planned for you.”
She follows me toward the door, curiosity written all over her face.
Outside, the evening air is cool, the last of the sunset fading behind the trees. I open the passenger door for her, waiting until she slides inside before walking around. When I climb in and start the engine, she turns toward me.
“Just so you know,” she says, “if this turns out to be some kind of weird alpha flex thing, I reserve the right to complain loudly.”
I pull out of the driveway. “You won’t complain.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
I glance over at her, letting the grin slip just enough that she knows I’m confident. “Because, little bird, I have you figured out.”
Her brows lift. Now she’s interested. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been watching. You’ll have fun tonight.” I hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Ten minutes later I pull into a parking lot glowing with neon lights and the distant thud of music. The sign above the door is impossible to miss. Alpha Axe.
Lark stares at it. Then she turns slowly toward me. “You brought me to an axe-throwing bar.”
My grin widens. “Thought you might like it.”
For a moment she just looks at the sign again. Then she laughs.
Alpha Axe Hall is exactly what you’d expect on a Friday night. Loud. Packed with alphas and a few over-eager beta women. Two lanes over, someone cheers when a blade lands with a solid thunk, and a second later another axe clatters against the floor.
Lark looks around with wide eyes. I’m guessing she’s never been anywhere like this before. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. She’s holding a hard cider, not some sugary pink omega drink. The bottle is tipped slightly toward her lips as she watches a throw land a few lanes over.
A surge of pride hits me that makes absolutely zero sense. It’s hard cider, for god’s sake. But I’ve never seen another omega choose that, and something about it feels special.
“Alright,” I say, finishing my beer and setting the empty bottle on the high table beside our lane. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Her eyes light up immediately. “Fair warning,” she says. “I’m probably going to be amazing at this.”
I chuckle. “You’ve never thrown an axe before.”
“True.” She winks at me.
I’m fucking gone for this omega. It would be damned embarrassing if I wasn’t so all-in already. But I am.
All in.
It’s how it goes with scent-sensitivity. Even before you know a damned thing about your mate, you are drawn to them. Which is why this shit with Saint is so confusing.
He feels it. I know he does. I see it in how he watches her. How he panicked the night she spiked, desperate to ease her in some way. Fuck, even in the way he watched that video when I bought Lucy’s OmegaBox subscription. He wants her. Has wanted her even before he met her.
I grab one of the axes from the rack and hand it to her. She wraps her hand around the handle, testing the weight. Almost immediately a few heads turn. I’m not a regular, but I’ve been here enough to know that omegas are not the normal customer.
She steps into the lane and at least a dozen sets of eyes find her. My alpha is immediately and completely done with every single one of them.
I step closer. “Alright,” I say, keeping my voice low so only she hears me. “First rule.”
She glances over her shoulder. “What’s that?”
I move behind her and guide her forward until she’s standing on the throwing line. “Stance.”
My hands settle over hers, adjusting her grip on the handle. Her back presses lightly against my chest. Her scent wraps around me. Warm caramel with a dash of salt. The smell curling straight into my lungs and lighting every possessive instinct I have on fire.
Fuck.
My grip tightens slightly around her hands as I guide the axe upward. “Feet shoulder width apart,” I say, using my own foot to move her legs apart.
Her hips shift. And I swear to God she pushes back into me. Just a little.
Every coherent thought I have leaves immediately. A growl pulls from my throat.
Christ.
She does that again and there is no way in hell it’s accidental. There’s also no way we’re making it home before I rip all her clothes off and plant my face between her legs. I’ve been dreaming about that since the first night I met her.
My alpha surges forward immediately. Mine.
Her scent thickens as she tilts her head slightly toward me. “Like this?” she asks. Her voice is completely innocent.
Liar.