Pack Darling Part One

by Lola Rock

  I don’t bow. Not to her.

  Orion breaks the moment, wrapping a protective arm around the back of my chair, his body heat leeching into my shoulder. “She’s ours.”

  I bite back a whine.

  Fuck, that sounds goooood.

  “I don’t see a mark.” Charles traces the column of my neck with a gaze so squidgy, I want to turtle-retract my head into my ribcage.

  “You want to see a mark?” Finn yanks a knife from the tabletop. “I can give you a mark of your very own, Charlie. Right in the throat.”

  Atlas rumbles, and I expect him to shut this down, to make me apologize. So I jump like a kitten when he sets a hand on my shoulder, wordlessly offering his protection.

  There’s this weird tingle in my toes.

  Probably the first warning that I’m about to melt.

  Then Jett unfolds from the table.

  All I can see is his back, but Noelle and Charles go so stiff that the loose ends of his hair must’ve morphed into Medusa snakes. His voice rumbles out as cold as crypt marble. “If you’d like to discuss business, we can take this somewhere else. If you’re here to fuck with our omega…”

  He never finishes the sentence, and I forget how to breathe until Atlas gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Let’s take our business into one of the private rooms. Finn. Stay with Lilah.”

  “Planning on it.” Finn drives a knife into the table so hard the water glasses slosh, and Noelle scampers away, tugging her mate to flee.

  Their retreat should be the sweetest sight I’ve ever seen, but I can’t stop watching Atlas and Jett.

  Our omega.

  Why did he have to say it like that?

  I know Jett doesn’t mean it.

  None of them do.

  I can’t let myself be tricked.

  I can’t let myself dream what it would be like if the Wyverns were my real pack. If I imagine being theirs, really, truly being theirs, I’ll thaw, and there’ll be no saving myself when I’m a puddle on the floor.

  Orion finally takes back his arm. “Don’t worry. The guys won’t let her near you again.”

  With a sigh, I release the butter knife and rub my palm.

  “Sorry. Got held up.” Hunter appears, plunking down a few glasses of champagne. “Every asshole here is asking about Lilah.”

  “How many you think I’ll get to kill?” Finn asks fondly.

  Hunter swats his shoulder. “Keep it in your pants.”

  I gulp champagne and sneeze on the bubbles.

  The way tonight’s going, Finn’s not the only one who’s gonna get stabbity.

  Twenty-Three

  ORION

  I’m hyper-focused on the one person I should be going out of my way to avoid.

  I thought I’d murder Lilah when I saw her in that dress.

  With that pale, pale skin, soft hair haloing her delicate face, and the blue-grey gown that makes her eyes look like storm clouds over a moonlit sea…

  She’s everything I can never be.

  And every alpha here knows it. Mine included.

  I would’ve clawed her face off if she weren’t so perfect at handling me.

  Finn keeps playing with his knives, trying to teach her tricks. When he pays her so much attention, my inner psycho flares. As soon as my fingers start to twitch, the vein throbbing in my temple, Lilah’s on top of it like the fucking omega whisperer.

  “Show Orion,” she coddles him, leaning back in her chair so Finn has to include me in his love story to balisong blades.

  She keeps checking in with me, pulling away from the touches Finn doesn’t realize he’s giving. A tap against her knee, brushing her long hair back when it falls over her shoulder.

  Like he can’t help himself, his eyes glowing this living, breathing green instead of the soulless black of his killing mood.

  “For you, Omega.” A waiter sets a plate of bacon-wrapped shrimp in front of Lilah, and tension coils the back of my neck like a crazed spring already half snapped.

  Even the waitstaff recognizes the pack’s real omega.

  Lilah pushes the plate to me. “You have it. I hate shrimp.”

  Just like that, I relax.

  This woman could steal everything I have, everything I am, and she either doesn’t realize or doesn’t want it.

  I can’t even hate her.

  I hate how beautiful she is, how even before she put on the makeup that highlights her huge, soulful eyes, every one of my alphas was staring at her like a starving wolf.

  I hate how Atlas’s attention slips to her. How Finn watches her with the dreamy happiness I’ve only seen him give his bikes. How Hunter can’t stop taking care of her, and how Jett’s determination not to look proves that he’s already lost.

  She’s captured us all in her magic.

  That’s why I notice she’s only picking at her dinner, giving the entrée a token nibble.

  “Eat more.” I drop my roll onto her plate.

  Lilah’s eyes widen like I just gifted her a diamond.

  Never to be one-upped, Finn adds his bread to the pile. “You need energy for dancing.”

  “I’m not dancing with other alphas.”

  Satisfaction sends me humming when she chooses my roll first, slathering it with a thick coat of butter.

  “Like we’re loaning you out to those fuckers. You’re ours.” Finn says it like she already wears his bite and he’s facing down a pack of alphas come to drag her away.

  Like he’ll kill for her.

  Like he’ll die for her.

  I brace myself for a wave of crazy omega rage, but it never comes.

  “I’m already on loan,” Lilah says, nibbling around my roll.

  “Rent to own.” Finn nods.

  She scowls at him, and I feel my lips quirking.

  Atlas finally reappears with Jett, drawing my attention back to my other side. Sometimes Atlas gives me nothing, other times I can read his face like our twenty-year history is a map of his moods. With a subtle chin jerk toward Lilah, he asks without asking.

  Are you okay?

  “It’s all good.” Even if I wish he would ask.

  Atlas dips his head, nostrils flaring as he breathes in my scent. I let myself drink him in, all comforting leather and dizzying musk.

  “Dance with me?” His voice drops to a low rumble that clenches my balls.

  The music’s just starting, the first few couples hitting the floor. I’m smug as fuck under the heat lamp of his attention. Everything’s warmer when Atlas holds me in his gaze.

  I offer my hand.

  He takes it, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles.

  I can’t remember the last time he showed affection in public. I want to preen and wiggle and offer my ass, let him spread me out and take me on the dinner table.

  I want everything Atlas will give me.

  Everything.

  Lilah inhales, the sound sharp and harsh.

  Shit.

  My perfume must be fucking ridiculous while I’m panting over our pack leader.

  “Sorry, it’s—” The words crumble, ash on my tongue.

  Atlas growls, and this time, it’s not a low, sexy rumble. It’s a full-on, back-the-fuck-up warning that reverses my blood in my veins.

  An alpha stalks to our table, murder in his hooded eyes.

  His gaze drags over me like a zip tie, hard and restraining. Then he spots Lilah and his gangster smile pulls wide as a nightmare clown’s.

  Finn snarls and rears in his chair, shifting to block Lilah.

  Thank fuck, my instincts don’t swing territorial. My instincts want me still and silent.

  Dominik Redfang.

  There’s no way Lilah knows who he is, but she senses the same evil that has me pressing into Atlas, needing his reassuring touch. Hunching low in her chair, Lilah grips her bodice over the spot that hides Finn’s knife.

  “How sweet.” Dom stops in front of our table, steepling his fingers as he stares down at Lilah like a deranged CEO pondering his n
ext takeover at gunpoint. “The Wyvern pack has a new addition just when mine is mourning its lost brother.”

  Atlas stands at my back, draping possessive hands over my shoulders.

  I wonder if I should do the same to Lilah, but even with my pack leader behind me, I don’t dare twitch in front of Dom. Lilah’s on the same wavelength. Dead still, the shallow flare of her nostrils is the only sign she’s not a pretty living doll.

  My omega instincts scream. Don’t draw the predator’s attention.

  “You weren’t invited to this party,” Atlas bites out the words.

  “A friend gave me a call. Said the Wyvern pack showed up at the ball with a beautiful new omega. Unmarked.” He watches Lilah through lowered eyes, thick with dark lashes that can’t hide his predatory gaze.

  She meets his stare.

  Dominance rolls off him as he tries to press her to submit. Even with Atlas against my back, my knees tremble. Without him, I’m pretty sure I’d cave.

  Lilah stands up to Dom like a tree in a storm, trembling but relentless.

  His thin lips tilt, amusement, interest, and pure fucking madness dripping from every inch of him. He offers her a hand that may as well be a grenade. “May I have this dance?”

  Deathly still, Finn stares at Dom with shadows whirling in his eyes.

  Hunter growls. “You’ve got some fucking balls trying to take our—”

  “She’s not yours,” Dom says crisply. “She’s fair game. Isn’t that right, Miss Darling?”

  She flinches when he rolls his tongue over her name. I feel a rumble too soft to be Atlas.

  The sound boils from somewhere so deep inside me, I didn’t know the spot existed.

  “I don’t know how to dance.” Lilah dips her head as she presses back in her chair, trying to put distance between her and the devil’s hand.

  “Even better. I love to lead.”

  Finn lunges. Hunter grabs him, muscles cording in his neck as he tries to hold him back.

  Maybe this time we should let Finn loose.

  “We have an audience.” Jett sounds as cold as ever, but there’s fire in his eyes as he watches Dom creep closer and closer to our Lilah.

  “Am I starting a war?” Dom asks. “All I want is a dance with this pretty thing.”

  Lilah pushes out a breath, squaring her shoulders, and when she lifts her head, I see the determination in the press of her lips.

  She’s going to accept.

  She’s going to take one for the team when all we’ve done since we met her is act like crazy assholes.

  Something cracks inside of me.

  Lilah shouldn’t have to be so brave.

  Even when I should hate her, when I should love watching Dom Redfang drag away the biggest threat to my life, all I want to do is apologize.

  The words would only feel hollow.

  The only thing I can do is give her my protection.

  I lunge from my chair and shoulder Lilah out of the way to take Dom’s hand. “I accept.”

  His flesh is cold as a snake’s, his eyes just as reptilian, and his calculating smile may as well come with a forked tongue. “Orion Wyvern. What a pleasure.”

  He draws my hand to his arm, pulling me to the dancefloor. Panic and disgust writhe up and down my spine.

  “No,” Lilah protests. “I’ll—”

  One of my alphas shuts her up with a growl.

  Knowing they’re watching, knowing even a drug lord can’t do shit to me in a venue this public, I let myself be taken to the floor.

  Dom moves one hand to my shoulder and one to my waist. He doesn’t touch skin, but I have the distinct feeling of snake scales slithering over my flesh as his eyes eat me up.

  My hormones might keep me out of field missions, but I trained with the pack for years. If he tries shit, I can handle myself.

  Even if I can’t, better me than Lilah.

  “You’re as lovely as the rumors say.” Dom bends into my space, taking a deep breath that makes me shudder. He smells like leather in his way, but cold and dry. Nothing like Atlas’s warmth. It’s the scent of a shedding snake, hiding in a hole, waiting for its chance to strike.

  He’s handsome if your type is cold, dark, and murderous, with black hair and a hint of madness in the emptiness of even blacker eyes.

  It’s not the cold feel of a sociopath. When Dom Redfang stares at your throat, you know he’s looking forward to guzzling your blood.

  I move like a robot as he leads us around the floor to the sound of music I can’t hear.

  “You’re quiet tonight. I expected better conversation from the omega who charmed the Wyvern pack.”

  “Must be the company.”

  Dom’s grip digs into my hip. “My brother used to compliment you. Now that I see the real thing, I understand why they’re replacing you with that spitfire.”

  Am I that easy to read? I grit through a jaw rigid as rebar. “An addition. Not a replacement.”

  “She’d make a lovely addition to my own pack. Not that a piece of pussy can replace my brother, no matter how sweet.”

  That same strange growl rises inside me, fierce and protective. “Don’t even think about—”

  “I’m going to enjoy taking revenge from your flesh.” He claws into my hip. “And from hers.”

  A soft, female voice cuts through Dom’s threats. “May I have this dance?”

  I turn to find the dancefloor still exists. Lilah stands with Atlas and a security team at her back, offering me a hand. Tearing away from Dom’s clinging fingers, I pull her against my chest, letting her warmth, and the true neutral of her scent wash off the feeling of being squeezed by a boa.

  She hugs my waist while shooting Dom the fiercest glare I’ve ever seen on an omega.

  “We have to ask you to leave, sir,” says the alpha in charge of security.

  Dom lifts his hands. “Just having a talk with new friends.”

  “Get the fuck out,” Atlas growls.

  “See you soon, omegas.” Dom smiles razor blades before sauntering off, looking like he’s escorting security instead of the other way around.

  “Stay together,” Atlas bites out. “Hunter’s watching. We’ll sweep to make sure Dom and his guys are all gone.”

  “That guy gives me the fucking creeps,” Lilah says, starting to pull back.

  “Dance?” I ask, not letting her slip too far away. Something settles inside me when I have her in my arms, looking up at me in concern instead of the hatred she owes me.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” She sniffs, testing my scent, which is probably a fucking wreck. “We can just sway at the edge of the floor.”

  “I’ll feel better if we move.” I swing her into my arms. The music is some kind of uppity waltz. Most of the couples swirling are older pairs, alpha and omega.

  But when Lilah moves against me, flowing like water to the music, I don’t feel mismatched. We fit like dovetails.

  I’m not the greatest dancer. Scorpio made the guys and me take lessons in grooming us to take over the business, and I just memorized the steps so I wouldn’t get my ass kicked.

  Lilah follows my lead so naturally, I feel like an old-timey movie star.

  “You’re amazing,” I breathe, finally clearing my head of Dom’s scaly fucking nightmare scent.

  “How did you learn ballroom?” Lilah asks, a satisfying ring of pleasure in her voice as she twirls like my old Hollywood costar.

  “Too many lessons. These schmooze parties are par for the fucking course.” We mostly stopped making the rounds after my awakening. Now with Lilah in the mix, Scorpio’s finally setting us up to take over Wyvern House.

  I thought I’d hate the added pressure, but with Lilah, nothing feels out of place. The always-there tension bleeds out of me, and instead of leaning back in the right ballroom posture, I lean into her. Lilah presses a soft cheek to my neck, her ear tickling Atlas’s mate mark in a melting kind of perfection.

  Finn and Hunter watch from the edge of the floor, fol
lowing our whirling path, and their coiled stillness says they’re not looking because they want to keep us safe. They’re looking because they’re caught.

  Because they can’t turn away.

  Maybe from Lilah. Maybe from the sight of us together.

  My dick perks up.

  The pack would get off so hard watching us together for real. Watching me peel off Lilah’s dress in the pack bed and taste every inch of her.

  A purr builds inside me.

  Before I can figure out what it means, Lilah stiffens and my fantasy dies in a flare of knife-sharp panic.

  “Down!” she screams, kicking my feet and slamming me to the ground.

  Twenty-Four

  LILAH

  I spot the shooter half a breath before the first scream.

  “Down!” Before I can think, I react, dragging Orion from the bullet aimed at his back.

  The shot echoes in my ears, a world-ending snap that sounds ten times louder outside the firing range.

  A line of fire cuts my arm.

  Then it’s fucking bedlam.

  The room erupts.

  A dozen shots pepper the ballroom, and I don’t have to look to know the guy who just tried to assassinate Orion is meat paste. But are there more shooters? I keep low, looking for cover to duck behind, somewhere safe to drag Orion.

  “Lilah. Your arm.” He holds me against his chest where he caught me, his scent thin and sharp.

  A wave of nausea rolls through when I spot the blood gushing from my bullet hole.

  It’s not a graze.

  It goes all the way through my arm. I clap a hand over the hole. Hot blood flows between my fingers, spattering Orion’s white collar, but I can’t feel pain. Yet. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Hunter! Finn!” Orion shouts over the chaos.

  The alphas barrel to us.

  “Babydoll.” Finn plucks me off Orion, covering my bloody wound with a broad palm. When he lifts me into his arms, bridal-style, my legs are jelly.

  Finn holds me to his rumbling chest. He and Hunter sandwich Orion between them. Together, they push through the crowd, snarling at anyone who comes too close to our tight group.

  I relax in Finn’s hold. I should be on guard when another assassin could pop out from anywhere to finish what he started. Maybe blood loss is already settling in because I know the guys won’t let that happen.