Chapter 32
Lark
My plans for forcing myself into Saint’s personal space are sidelined. He texted early this morning to say he’s working over for a twelve-hour shift.
“So they only need him for half a shift?”
“Maybe,” Silas says.
We’re sipping coffee on my small balcony. Silas’ warm honey and whiskey scent mixes with the coffee steaming in our mugs. The combination practically melts my insides.
We’ve started sharing time here after Saint and Graham leave for work. It’s a new habit that I hope sticks. Maybe Saint will eventually join us here on his off days, assuming I can convince him to accept me as his mate and, you know, actually spend time with me.
“They try to not keep anyone on shift for the full two days. If they need someone to cover the whole day, they usually ask someone from the next shift to come in early. That way neither firefighter is there for more than thirty-six hours.”
I chew over the rules of Saint’s firefighter schedule for a bit. It’s so different than mine. I mostly work normal daytime hours, but as a business owner, I sometimes log on to meetings, check emails, and crunch numbers at all hours of the day, including weekends.
The silence is broken when Silas’ phone rings. He looks at the screen. “I have to take this.”
He lifts the device to his ear. “Hey, Lucy. Everything good?”
He listens for a while, then says, “But she’s fifty-eight,” he says, frowning.
Then later, “I can do it. See you in a bit.”
“Is everything okay with your sister?”
He grimaces. “My mom’s in heat. It was unexpected. I didn’t think…”
I giggle. “When omegas get a little older, heats can get irregular.”
“But she’s so…”
“Do not say ‘old’,” I warn. That will be me someday.
He laughs. “It’s just weird when it’s your mom, you know?”
I giggle again. No kid, even when they are in their late-thirties, wants to think about their mom like that.
“So what did Lucy need?”
“She has a treatment today and now my parents can’t take her.” He turns to face me fully and takes my free hand in his, thumb brushing slow circles over my wrist. A purr slips from my throat.
“I know you have work, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here alone. Can you come along?”
I mentally catalog my calendar. There’s nothing I can’t put off or hand over to someone else. “I can come. Will Lucy be good with it?”
His smile is full of relief. “She’s been dying to meet you. She’ll be thrilled to have you with us.”
“You’ve talked to her about me?” The idea pleases me.
He gives me a look that says the answer is obvious. It is, I suppose. Still.
Silas’ parents’ home is only two blocks away, so it takes no time to get there. Lucy lives in a small apartment above the garage.
“She moved back when she got her diagnosis. I think she misses having her own place. No one bothers her when she’s in the apartment, but it’s not the same.”
I understand. I’ve always been so independent, even before I had to be after my parents died. I would have hated to give up my freedom and move back home with my dad and moms.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt. I do the same.
“I’ll hop in the back.”
He places a hand on the metal buckle. “No, she won’t mind sitting in the back seat.”
I lean forward, brushing my lips against his. “Absolutely not. She deserves the front seat today. Besides, I don’t mind.”
His eyes go soft. “Thank you.”
He leans across me, reaching into the glove box and taking out two medical masks. He hands me one. “Do you mind?”
I put the mask on over my nose and mouth. “Of course not.”
He adjusts the mask across his nose and glances at me. “You’re perfect, you know that?” Before I can answer, he opens his door and steps outside.
A few minutes later, Silas guides a small, delicate omega to the passenger seat. Even though she’s completely bald and her eyes are rimmed in dark circles, there’s no missing that she and Silas are siblings. They share the same olive skin and dark brown eyes.
“This is Lark,” Silas says gently as he helps her settle into the seat, tucking a familiar blanket around her legs.
Lucy’s gaze snaps to me immediately. “Oh!” Her face lights up with a brightness that has nothing to do with health. “I’ve been so excited to meet you!”
Her delight is so genuine that I feel a little bashful under it. “Hi, Lucy. It’s really nice to meet you, too.”
She studies me for a moment, then her expression shifts to mild embarrassment. “I’m really sorry about this,” she says quickly. “Pulling you and Silas away from the house, I mean. I know you probably had better things to do.”
I wave a hand dismissively. “Nothing more important than this. Plus, you can’t help that your mom’s heat came.”
Lucy’s eyes go wide, then she recoils with a half-laugh, half-groan muffled by her mask “Oh god, stop. Please don’t remind me my parents have a sex life.”
I burst out laughing. It’s identical. The same response. The same full-body rejection of the concept.
Silas huffs out a quiet laugh as he pulls the car out onto the street. “Too late,” he says. “We’ve both been reminded.”
Lucy groans louder. “I’m going to need therapy.”
She turns so she can see my face. “And I want to thank you for the blanket.” She lifts up the edge so I can see it. “I take it with me to every therapy session. It’s… comforting.”
My heart aches. To know that something I chose for a mailing, something we tested and Cammie argued for in a Wednesday meeting, is sitting in a cancer treatment center making someone feel less alone. I make a mental note to chat with Cammie about donating more blankets to the cancer center.
“I’m glad you like it. Your brother said he got you a membership to OmegaBox when you were diagnosed. Have there been any other items you found useful while you go through treatments?”
“Actually, yes. One box had an extra soft pillow that I love. And one box had a really soft hoodie. My skin gets really irritated sometimes, from the chemo.”
“Is that normal?” I’ve never known anyone actively going through chemo, so I’m not sure.
“Oh, yeah,” she assures me. “I’ve recommended OmegaBox to everyone in the treatment center.
I think a lot of them have joined, even the alphas and betas.
You should sponsor a cancer patient for your social media stuff.
I follow a few omegas that get monthly boxes, but I haven’t seen anyone in treatment. ”
Interesting. It would bring a different perspective and maybe open some new opportunities for the vendors whose products fill our boxes.
“Maybe you should do it.” I mean it. She’s uncommonly pretty, which viewers like. But she’s also so obviously kind and sweet. The audience would love her.
A blush creeps up her neck and across her cheeks. “Oh, no, not me. I don’t like all that stuff. But I have a friend. I think she would be perfect. She already has a decent size following on TikTok and Instagram.”
I nod. “If she’s okay with it, I’ll have my friend, Cammie, reach out and set something up.”
Lucy’s face lights up. “She’s going to be so excited!”
The chemo center is only a short drive away. When Silas parks, Lucy glances up at the building. “This should be the last one,” she says quietly. “Hopefully forever.”
Silas nods once. “Forever,” he says. He squeezes her hand before looking back at me.
“You don’t have to come in,” he says. “I’ll come sit with you as soon as they take Lucy to the back.”
“Take your time. I’ll wait in the car,” I tell him.
Lucy’s eyes warm above the mask. “Thank you for coming.”
“It was my pleasure,” I say honestly.
Silas hesitates for a second before reaching out and brushing his knuckles lightly against my cheek. “I won’t be long.”
He helps Lucy out of the car and toward the building. I settle into the leather seat, watching the entrance for a moment before my gaze drifts toward the wide windows of the waiting room.
Inside, I can see them. Lucy sits in a reclining chair meant for the patients. Silas pulls a chair close and sits beside her. He leans in when she speaks, listening closely, his large hand resting lightly on the arm of her chair.
After a minute he reaches down and carefully tucks Lucy’s blanket more securely around her legs. The gesture is so natural it makes my chest ache.
My omega sighs. She doesn’t need words to convey that she thinks he’s perfect. And, for once, I don’t argue with her. She’s right.
He takes care of people. Not in big, flashy ways, but in quiet, steady ones. He takes care of Lucy. Of Graham. Of Saint, even when Saint makes things difficult. And me.
Especially me.
I rest my head back against the leather seat and stare through the window at him. For days I’ve known the pull I feel toward him is more than instinct. It’s more than scent. More than pheromones.
It’s him.
His patience. His steadiness. His quiet strength. The way he cares so deeply for the people who matter to him.
A slow warmth spreads through my chest as the realization settles in. I love him. Not because he’s my scent match. Not because my omega wants him. Because he’s Silas.
Fifteen minutes later the clinic doors slide open and he steps out.
I sit up a little straighter in the back seat as he crosses the parking lot.
The afternoon sun catches in his dark hair, broad shoulders rolling beneath his shirt as he walks.
His rich whiskey and honey scent hits me the second the door opens.
Mine.
“Everything okay?” I ask immediately.
He nods once, scrubbing a hand down his beard. “She’s good. Excited.” A small smile tugs at his mouth. “She keeps saying this is the last one. God, I hope she’s right.”
My chest goes soft all over again. I must make some strange expression, because Silas turns fully toward me, brows drawing together.
“Something wrong, little bird?”
The words burst out of me before I can overthink them. “I love you.”
Silas freezes. For half a heartbeat he just stares at me. Then a deep, possessive growl rolls through him. “I love you too.”
My omega punches hard against my ribs.
Silas’ hand closes around the back of my neck and he pulls me against him, mouth coming down on mine.
Our kiss is all heat and possession. His scent rolls over me, mostly whiskey now, with just a hint of honey around the edges.
He presses his nose against my throat, breathing me in before dragging his mouth along my neck.
He scent marks me slowly, the rough scrape of his beard sending shivers down my spine. When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless.
“I wish we weren’t in a cancer treatment center parking lot in broad daylight. I’d like to prove how much I love you right now.”
Silas huffs a quiet laugh, resting his forehead against mine. “Probably for the best,” he says.
His thumb brushes my jaw, expression settling back into something more serious.
“I meant what I said before,” he continues. “About Saint.”
Not this again.
Silas’s mouth and hands are amazing, believe me. But I want my alpha. All of him. Especially now that I know how much I love him. And that he loves me too.
“You deserve an alpha who can lead his pack,” he says quietly. “And I haven’t done that yet.”
“Silas,” I say softly.
His jaw tightens. “I’ll fix it,” he adds.
I reach up and cup his cheek, forcing his gaze back to mine. “Silas,” I repeat. “I love you. The Saint thing will work itself out. Or it won’t.”
His eyes darken.
“I’m yours.” I let that sit for a moment. “And you’re mine.”
Something deep and possessive flashes through his expression. “Little bird,” he rumbles. His hand settles against my waist, firm and warm. “I’ve always been yours.”
He leans down, brushing another kiss across my lips. His large hands skim down my body until they reach the hem of my skirt. His fingers slide up my thigh, deftly pulling my panties to the side.
“You’re always so wet for me,” he says against my lips before dipping a finger inside me.
I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer, marking my scent everywhere my cheeks and neck can touch, as I ride his hand.
His thumb circles my clit while his fingers set a steady rhythm plunging in and out of my channel.
“Fuck, Silas,” I gasp.
“That’s it, love. Come for me. I want you to gush your slick all over daddy’s fingers. Then I’ll lick it all off.”
I detonate. Right there in a cancer treatment center parking lot. My body jerks and shudders while slick floods Silas’ hand.
I collapse against the seat. “That was—” I sit up, suddenly embarrassed now that the orgasm has passed. “Oh, shit. Do you think anyone saw us?”
He chuckles around the fingers that he’s currently licking clean. “Don’t worry, little bird. The windows are blacked out. I’ll never let anyone other than Graham or Saint see you like that.” He runs his tongue along the palm of his hand. More slick wets my thighs.
“God, you smell so good. You make it almost impossible to keep my promise to you.”
“I don’t want you to keep that promise,” I say with no small amount of petulance.
“Brat.” He tweaks my nose. He twists his enormous frame between the front seats, then sits back holding fast food napkins like they’re a prize. I spread my legs and allow him to clean me.
“I need to throw these away, but I don’t want anyone to smell you, even if it’s on a paper napkin coming from a garbage can.”
“Oh, shit!” I snap my legs together. “Our scents! Lucy will come back and know what we’ve been doing.”
“Lucy lost her sense of smell about a month ago. It’s a common side-effect of her treatment. For omegas.”
My own omega recoils. An omega without her sense of smell. I don’t even like to contemplate it.
“Temporary,” he goes on. “She won’t be able to scent a thing, though she may guess when she sees the glazed look in your eyes.”
“In that case,” I giggle, spreading my legs apart. “Maybe you can do something to keep that look on my face. If she sees it enough, she’ll think it’s normal.”
His hand slides down my thigh. “We have fifteen minutes.”