Chapter 29
Lark
Silas wrangles a reservation at Chef Pascal’s for the four of us.
Turns out my plaid-wearing, quiet alpha is also a primary investor in the restaurant.
Based on what little I know about the pack’s investments, the sheer size of this house, and the quantity and cost of cars in their garage.
Even Saint’s Jeep is a tricked out newer model.
I’m starting to wonder if Pack Caron is low-key mega-rich.
They don’t act like it. That’s the interesting part.
I take my time getting ready. I have naturally great hair. It dries in soft waves and rarely needs more than a little hair oil to keep the frizz away. But tonight, I curl it properly then brush it until it falls in soft ringlets around my face and shoulders.
My daily dress code usually consists of jeans or a comfortable skirt, if I’m running errands, and leggings or loose sweatpants if I’m staying in.
If I have online meetings, I’ll throw on a dressy blouse or blazer.
Paired with my normal yoga pants, it’s a ridiculous combination, but the folks on the other side of the screen can only see my top half, so I go with it.
Tonight, however, I need to look nicer. A lot nicer.
I didn’t pack many fancy clothes when I moved in.
Most are still hanging in my walk-in at the apartment.
But I did think to include a vivid blue dress in my suitcase.
It hugs my curves in all the right ways, and makes my chest look more impressive than it really is.
I turn once in the mirror, smoothing my hands down the ruching on the side.
Not bad, Lark. Not bad at all.
I choose delicate jewelry. A simple gold chain my father bought me when I left for college, a delicate tennis bracelet I bought myself when OmegaBox hit its one thousandth customer, and the small gold bird earrings Silas gave me.
I haven’t taken them out since the night I put them in.
I smear subtle pink lipstick across my lips, and head downstairs to meet my alphas in the living room.
The room goes very quiet when I step inside. Three alphas turn toward me. I take a moment. They are genuinely, almost offensively attractive. Saint is standing by the bar cart pouring a bourbon. Silas and Graham already have one in their hands.
“You look… stunning.” Silas’s voice is so reverent it stops me in my tracks.
“Spin for me,” he says. It’s not a command, but damned if I could resist.
I swallow. Hard. Then do as he asks, spinning once slowly so he can see me from every angle.
“Fuck, little bird. I may have to kill any alpha who looks at you tonight.”
“Me, too,” Graham adds. I have no doubt Silas could tear someone apart with his bare hands, but the idea of my gentle giant going all protectively alpha has me giggling.
“I could do it,” he straightens his tie.
“I wouldn’t want you to,” I say. “You’re my gentle giant. I like you best that way.”
Graham’s eyes crease into triangles of delight behind his glasses.
Saint watches me over the rim of his glass for a second before reaching for another. “Want one?”
His offer catches me completely off guard. He doesn’t normally speak to me of his own volition.
I find my tongue and stammer out, “That—that would be great. Thanks.”
He’s wearing a cream jacket paired with black dress pants and a black shirt open at the neck. He’s somehow managed to blend looks so that he appears refined yet casual. The whole effect is devastatingly sexy.
It’s not that hard to do when you look like he does, though.
Saint is a gorgeous man. Easily the best looking alpha I’ve ever seen.
High, sharp cheekbones, full lips, jet black hair, and dark skin against amber eyes.
I could stare at him for hours. He doesn’t feel the same, though, because he turns his back to me and begins to make my drink.
He places a single ice cube in the bottom and pours the bourbon carefully, not too much, not too little, over top. He’s careful not to let our fingers touch when he hands me the glass. His eyes flick up to meet mine for half a second before he looks away again.
I bring it to my lips and inhale deeply. I’ve always loved the scent of whiskey. Of Silas.
Savoring the drink gives me an excuse to study my alphas. They clean up well. Graham is all long, lean lines in his dark gray pants and deep green dinner jacket. He’s chosen a yellow pocket square for a punch of color.
Silas is dressed simply in a navy suit, white shirt and pocket square, and a blue tie. He’s added a navy vest under his jacket and the effect is panty-dropping.
“Come here, beautiful.” Graham pulls me close, kissing the top of my head before he tucks me under his arm. “It seems we have more to celebrate tonight.”
I give a questioning look.
“Saint got released from desk duty,” Silas says. He’s smiling fondly at his packmate, who looks embarrassed.
I turn to face Saint fully, still tucked in Graham’s hold. “Does that mean you get to go back to working as a firefighter?”
He ducks his head and fidgets with the dark buttons on his jacket. “Yeah. I start back tomorrow.”
Silas pulls me from Graham’s hold into his own. He kisses my temple and breathes in deeply. “So sweet,” he murmurs before brushing his lips against mine.
“You taste like whiskey.”
My lips tilt at the corners. “So do you.”
He chuckles, then tucks me under his arm, much like Graham did before. Silas’ arm is thicker and heavier, but every bit as comforting.
He turns us so that I’m easily facing Saint. “His schedule is different. Two days off, one day on. He’ll work a full twenty-four hour shift tomorrow and then be home for forty-eight unless he’s needed for overtime or a major event.”
I nod. “That must leave you a lot of time to work on your coffee. I’d like to see the roasting setup, sometime, if you don’t mind.”
Saint slides his palms down his jacket. “Um, sure… sometime.” He looks at his watch. “It’s time to go.”
Silas places his empty glass on a table and then takes mine from my hand and places it to my lips. “One more sip, little bird.”
I take a sip from the glass, allowing him to tip it so the amber liquid runs down my throat, sending a trail of warmth to my belly.
Silas leans close, his beard tickling my cheek. "Good girl."
My body melts and my scent spills into the room.
“Mmm, beautiful,” Graham moves closer, placing his long body against my back. His hard cock presses into my spine. “If you keep doing that, we won’t make it to the restaurant.”
“I’ll be in the Rover,” Saint mutters from the doorway.
Silas, Graham, and I stay locked in our positions for a moment longer. One at my back, the other at my front. Our scents wrap around one another until I can’t tell where one stops and another begins.
Three out of four. My omega notes the gap.
So do I.
Silas’ fingers tighten on my hips. “We have to go.” His voice is deep and gruff.
He’s right. We have two things to celebrate tonight. “Let’s go, before Saint leaves without us.”
We all pile into the Range Rover. Graham and I are in the back, holding hands. Silas is in the driver’s seat, and Saint sits in front of me on the passenger side.
We ride in silence for a few minutes before Graham speaks. “You know, beautiful, we should probably get a few things settled for your heat.”
I can feel my happy glow dim a little. I don’t want to talk about heats. They are painful and long.
And we don’t have all our alphas, yet. My omega reminds me.
Thankfully, the restaurant’s parking lot comes into view before we can continue our conversation, and before I can move too far into my feelings about my omega’s comment.
The ma?tre d’ appears before we’ve fully stepped inside.
“Mr. Caron,” he says, dipping his head respectfully toward Silas.
Silas gives him a short nod. “Evening.”
The restaurant is breathtaking. The entire place sits on a cliff above the water.
The view is unreal. It’s recently been renovated to perfectly blend old-world money with new-world opulence and understated glamour.
I haven’t been here since the reopening.
I’ve been planning to come one night with Cammie.
She’ll be green with envy when she learns I came with the guys.
The main dining room stretches out in a wide-open space of dark wood and glass. Low lights hang above the tables, casting everything in a warm amber glow. Floor-to-ceiling windows run along the far wall, revealing the black ribbon of river far below.
Conversations dim slightly as the ma?tre d’ leads us across the room. I can feel eyes following us. Most of them aren’t looking at me, though. They’re looking at my alphas.
And honestly? I get it. My alphas are hot. Like, make you drop your soup spoon hot.
Silas walks beside me, his large hand laid possessively on my low back. Graham moves easily on my other side. He’s all long limbs and elegant lines. And Saint trails just behind us, tall and dangerously beautiful.
Several women openly stare. One actually bites her lip.
Excuse me?
A strange little surge of possessive heat rises in my chest. The urge to turn around and claw her eyes out flashes through my mind so quickly it startles me.
What the fuck is that? I have never once in my life wanted to claw someone's eyes out over an alpha.
Except you do… for them, my omega murmurs smugly.
I ignore her. Mostly.
I take Graham’s hand and pull him closer.
Silas chuckles. “Calm down, little bird. We only have eyes for you.”
The ma?tre d’ stops at a table by the windows. The river spreads out beneath us, moonlight dancing across the surface far below.
“Your table, Mr. Caron.”
“Thank you.” Silas pulls out my chair before taking his own.
The moment we sit, a server appears with a chilled bottle of champagne already waiting in a silver bucket. Silas glances at the label and nods his approval.
“Salon Blanc de Blancs Le Mesnil.” The waiter shows the rest of us the bottle before pouring.
I blink.
Fancy.
Silas lifts his flute. “To Saint getting cleared for full duty.”
We raise our glasses.
“And to Graham,” he continues, glancing toward him. “For his big breakthrough.”
Graham ducks his head slightly, clearly pleased.
Glasses clink. I take a sip of champagne. Bubbles race across my tongue. This is nice.
Then Graham sets his glass down. “We never finished discussing your heat boundaries.”
Champagne goes down the wrong pipe and I cough violently.
Across the table Saint mutters, “Fuck, Graham.”
I wipe my mouth with my napkin, eyes watering. “Are we really doing this now? In a restaurant?”
Graham blinks at me. “Well, yes. We’re all together. It seems like a logical time.”
Of course he would think that.
Silas leans back in his chair, completely unbothered. “Graham said your heat will likely come sooner rather than later.”
“It’s always been like clockwork. I still have four weeks.”
My stomach twists. Four weeks sounds like a long time. It isn’t.
Silas cups my cheek with his thick hand. “Maybe so. But we should still know your boundaries. What you like, what you don’t. Before it’s too late.”
I stare at the tablecloth, heat creeping up my neck.
Boardrooms I command, but sex… Outside of heats with my friend’s pack, my sexual experiences have been pretty slim.
Graham’s the most regular partner I’ve ever had.
There was one vanilla boyfriend in college.
Aside from that… Boundaries? I haven’t mapped them yet.
“I mean, I’m sure it’s all fine. It’s not like I’ll know what’s happening, anyway.”
“We will,” Silas says gently.
My gaze lifts to his.
He leans forward and whispers so only I can hear. “Daddy won’t let anything happen you don’t consent to.”
Ridiculous omega that I am, I perfume. Right there in the middle of Pascal’s. I’ve really got to get a hold on this daddy fetish.
Three different scents answer immediately. Whiskey, chocolate, ginger. All of them. Even Saint.
Several heads turn my way, and all three of my alphas growl until no one even dares to dart their eyes in my direction.
Once he’s calmer, Silas turns back to me. “We’re waiting, Lark.”
I swallow. “I don’t think I will like pain,” I finally admit.
“So no spanking?” The words leave Saint’s mouth quick. Then he freezes in obvious mortification.
I blink at him. Saint just voluntarily entered a conversation about my heat preferences. I’m going to need a second.
“Well… maybe light spanking,” I say carefully. “Just nothing that would bruise or hurt too much.”
“But have you even been spanked?” Graham asks a little too loudly, causing a few brave heads to turn.
“Jesus, Graham,” Saint hisses. “Keep your voice down.” He glances around the room like he’s assessing exits.
Silas hides a small smile behind his glass. “What else?” he asks. “Will you be okay with bondage?”
I think about that. I liked when Silas tied me to the bed. A lot. “I would like to try it,” I finally say. “If that’s your thing.”
Silas purrs in satisfaction. “Sometimes.”
Graham leans forward, fascinated. “What about anal play?”
I choke again. “Graham!”
“What?” he asks, genuinely confused. “I’m just trying to gather information. I don’t like not knowing things.”
“I don’t know!” I whisper urgently. “I’ve never—” My face is officially on fire.
Graham looks thrilled by my confession.
Across the table Saint leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. He’s schooled his expression to one that is carefully neutral, but I notice the way his eyes gleam.
“I’m not opposed,” I admit weakly.
My gaze slides to Silas. He reads my hesitation instantly.
“Maybe we should try things beforehand?”
My lip slips between my teeth. “Yes,” I say quietly. “While I’m in control. Not my omega.”
Silas’s expression turns satisfied. “Good girl.”
“What about—” Graham begins.
At that exact moment, the server appears beside the table. “Are you ready to order?”
I could kiss him.
“Yes,” Silas says calmly. “We are.”