Pack Darling Part One

by Lola Rock

  I stop just short of Orion, not daring to spray him while he watches me with that needing, drugging gaze. If they scent me on him…

  But there’s no way.

  As soon as the alphas scent Orion’s need so desperate it clogs your throat, they’ll forget I exist.

  Spritzing to cover my trail, I stumble out of the nest.

  “Li—” Orion calls, but I close my ears the way I’m trying to close my heart.

  I can’t hear the chopper blades anymore.

  I dash down the stairs, one set, two sets, three sets, careening into the basement, spritzing to hide every step.

  “Orion!” Atlas bellows, his rough, aching despair jabbing my eardrums like blades.

  I stumble into the backup nest and shut the door behind me. Thundering footsteps echo, and for a heart-squeezing second, I think the alphas are on their way to me.

  But the shouts fade upward as they dash desperately toward their real omega.

  I huddle into myself, hugging my ribs tight.

  If one of them comes, I’ll break. I’ll jump into their arms, all my plans of escape shot to hell.

  If I even smell one of them, I’ll melt.

  But no one comes for me.

  Not to check if I’m hurt.

  Not to check if I’m alive.

  As the seconds tick and the heat drills deeper into my body, pain bites past my muscles until it’s gnawing on my bones like a snarling rat that I can’t stomp.

  Need destroys my last logic.

  Willpower? What willpower?

  I need my alphas and my omega. They’re just upstairs.

  I can’t hide forever. I can’t run away never knowing if maybe, just maaaaaaybe they could’ve accepted me, held me, even…

  I can’t let myself think farther than that.

  I need to see them.

  I need to stop hiding for once in my life.

  Clawing to my feet, burning so hot my scent puffs out in a cloud of steam, I climb toward them.

  Thirty-Eight

  ATLAS

  “Fly faster,” I snarl through my headset at Hunter. The chopper’s engine cranks like we’re hauling an elephant, but it’s not as loud as the growl tearing up my throat.

  “It won’t go any faster!” Hunter hammers the throttle.

  Trees blur underneath us. The engine whines.

  It’s not fucking fast enough.

  “Backup team’s dead,” Jett reports. “No more reinforcements in range.”

  “How the fuck did this happen!” I dig my hands into my thighs like they’re claws. Like I’m going to rip every fucking Redfang in the country into pieces.

  Because I am. Slowly.

  But icy fear keeps my rage from bleeding.

  Orion’s been taken.

  Lilah’s been taken.

  Everything I have, taken.

  “The fuck,” Finn mumbles into the headset we jammed on his asshole skull. Waking up from his bender, he reeks of booze and bad fucking decisions. “We skydiving?”

  “You’re about to get booted without a parachute,” Hunter snarls, knuckles white around the controls.

  “What happened?” Finn rubs his head. He’s lucky we’re belted in, because my fingers twitch, begging me to choke him out for taking us away from home.

  I should’ve insisted one of us stayed.

  It’s my mistake, as usual.

  “Redfangs hit the estate,” Jett says, his voice clipped, even for him. “They took the omegas.”

  “The fuck did you say?” Finn straightens, his darkness burning off the tequila.

  “Our guys on the perimeter are dead,” I repeat the facts because they’re all I can handle. “Last report, Redfangs had Lilah in a car and were dragging Orion across the lawn.”

  What happened next, we don’t know, but bile churns up my throat, imagining the worst fucking possibility.

  As long as they’re alive, I’ll get them back.

  Fuck.

  My fingers dig into my legs.

  “Redfangs need to die.” Finn pulls his Glock and sits deadly still.

  Thank fuck.

  This is the version of him we need tonight.

  “Look.” Hunter tilts the chopper so its light beams pool over the sedan run into a ditch on the side of the road.

  The humped shape of a body lies face-down in the dirt.

  My chest seizes, but then I catch the size of the shoulders.

  Too big to be one of our omegas.

  A few more seconds of flight and we fly over a second crashed car. More bodies splayed across the ground.

  “Not them,” Jett mutters, his voice crackling over the line.

  What the fuck happened out there?

  My heart thumps in time with the rotors as Hunter takes us over the lawn, heading toward the house. We pass more shapes humped on the grass. Our guys, their guys.

  Fucking bloodbath.

  How could two omegas survive?

  “They’re in the house,” Jett yells, clutching his phone.

  “Who?”

  “Orion and—her. They’re in the house.”

  “Anyone else?” I brace myself for another bloodbath as Hunter takes us down on the grass.

  “No one. I think… I think everyone else is dead.”

  “Our omegas are fucking ninja assassins,” Hunter crows.

  Finn grunts, maybe as disappointed as I am that we won’t taste blood. But as long as they’re safe.

  As soon as we touch ground, I rip off my harness and book for the door.

  One step onto the porch, a scent hits me like a fist in the balls.

  Vanilla.

  Sweet.

  And… Caramel?

  Caramel apples?

  Orion’s heat.

  Fuck.

  “Orion!” His name tears from my lungs while I tear up the steps, chasing the sweet scent that has my balls tightening and my heart chugging in my throat.

  The pack moves at my back. One unit. Laser-focused on finding our omega.

  I’ve never smelled his scent so sharp. It’s a fistful of knives, a promise that he’s already in pain, needing us. There’s a strange sweetness I don’t remember tasting before, but it’s been so goddamned long since his last heat.

  I hit the top step and rush into the nest.

  Orion lies curled on the padded floor, hugging a cushion. The room’s drenched in apple so thick I can’t hold back a grunt as I drop to my knees beside him.

  The others thump down around us. I run my hands over his flushed skin, checking for injuries.

  “Orion.” I cradle his head, and the glazed look in his eye is the last thing stopping me from tearing off his pants.

  “Atlas,” he sighs, sinking into my touch. His eyes move slowly, landing on each member of the pack.

  “Did they hurt you?” I rub the smudge of dirt on his cheek, vibrating with rage and lust and the burning need to do anything to right this wrong.

  “Drugged.” He closes his eyes, leaning into me. “My heat. We need…”

  “What do you need?” The word fires up my instincts. I’ll get him anything he wants, do anything he needs, anything to mellow out his scent and see his smile.

  “Lilah…” he breathes. His voice sounds clearer, more determined by the second, but he’s hot to the touch and his pants are tented.

  He needs to be knotted.

  My cock’s already swelling, eager to ease his pain.

  “Is she okay?” Hunter asks, rubbing Orion’s arm.

  “Safe. Saved me. She—” A cramp wracks him before he can say anything else. With a whimper that has me growling, he squeezes the pillow so hard his wrist joints crack.

  Fuck.

  My cock strains against my zipper, and a low rumble rocks my chest. I have minutes, maybe seconds, before my rut rises. I find Jett, the only one who isn’t already stroking Orion. “Perimeter?”

  “Clean up crew just arrived and teams surrounding the house. We’re safe.” Satisfied, he tosses his phone to a cor
ner, crawling close enough to touch Orion’s ankle.

  With the four of us all over him, Orion spasms against the pillow. “I need… I need…”

  “I know what you need,” I rumble, kissing his forehead. “We’ll take care of you.”

  “Lilah…” he spasms again, and my rumble’s more of a roar.

  “Later. Let’s get you through this heat.” All I know is the girl is safe, probably huddling in her basement. Orion’s sweet, mind-numbing scent overrides everything else. It’s sweeter than I remember, with notes of caramel that have me iron fucking hard.

  “Clothes,” I bark at my pack mates.

  I tug the pillow away from Orion and we strip him down. I growl at the red marks on his hips. If the ones who did this weren’t already dead, fuck.

  When Finn tugs off Orion’s pants, his cock pops free, and suddenly I couldn’t give a shit about the men I didn’t get to kill.

  His swollen tip leaks pearlescent pre-cum, and the scent of his slick hits my bloodstream like Red Bull and cocaine.

  I strip off my pants before my cock can punch through the fabric.

  Have to have him.

  Mate.

  I pull Orion against my chest, nesting my thick cock in the split of his ass.

  He moans and wiggles.

  Wrapping his ribs, tilting his neck back, I suck at the silver scar of my mate mark.

  My cock jumps.

  “Heat,” Orion murmurs, lust drunk and losing himself. “We need to… I need—”

  “I got this.” Finn crawls between Orion’s legs, splaying our omega’s thighs and taking his cock between his lips.

  “Fuck. Yes.” Orion arches into me me, his hot skin searing me to the bone.

  I tease his neck with my teeth while I pinch his pebbled nipples.

  Soon, I’ll be inside him.

  Soon, this heat will bring our pack back together.

  I promise, when the haze clears, we’ll be stronger. More unified.

  Then, revenge.

  Later.

  Now all I can think about is apple cider.

  Orion’s sweet ass.

  My knot inside.

  The ache. The need for him.

  The rut takes over.

  Mate. Bite. Fuck.

  Orion.

  Mate.

  Bite.

  Fuck.

  Thirty-Nine

  LILAH

  I crawl up the stairs.

  Shit, it hurts.

  Like my belly’s spaghetti, and the fork keeps twisting.

  I need my mates.

  Even if they’re not mine, even if I can’t keep them, they’re the only ones who can help through this pain. I don’t care what it means for my life if they accept me.

  I’ll do anything to stop the pain.

  A wracking cramp sends me to my knees at the top of the steps. I cry out, curling into a ball.

  When the uterus-sawing sensation bites down, and I start to think I should turn back and hide, I taste their scents. The chance at relief keeps me moving.

  I have to keep pushing.

  Have to get to them.

  Their sounds echo from the nest. Grunts and soft curses that sound like music, all in their voices.

  It takes me a while to claw all the way up to the third floor when I can’t walk and every hand, knee up is thumbtacks kneading my guts.

  The door’s ajar.

  I crawl onto the landing and peek through the crack.

  Orion’s stripped, gold and pink skin exposed.

  Naked, showing off the thick thighs I’ve seen in my wettest, wildest dreams, Atlas holds Orion back to chest, working over the silver mark of his mating bite from behind while Finn crouches between Orion’s knees, his head bobbing up and down.

  Finn’s broad, bare back blocks my view, but between Orion’s half-lidded, blissed-out expression, his brain-melting moans, and the long, slurping sucks that drill straight into my pussy, I want to throw myself into the nest crotch-first like a slutty ring toss and pray I land on a cock.

  Hunter and Jett crouch at Orion’s side, touching him, whispering sweet things, all of them holding him in a perfect circle of warmth and trust and pleasure.

  A shirtless circle.

  That’s where I want to be.

  I was dripping before I made it here, but I watch long enough to spring a waterfall between my legs. Fuck, do I need them and my body’s bragging we can totally take all five at once.

  Hashtag goals.

  Orion’s spine arches as Finn growls encouragement. When Orion comes, abs and thighs shaking, he looks like an angel. He moans velvet and sin, and Atlas devours the sound with a growling kiss.

  A strangled whimper slips from my lips because I can’t.

  Three alpha faces whip toward me.

  Finn’s too busy to stop.

  “I…” I push the door a little wider.

  I need to make some eloquent speech. Give a clear reason why they should help me. But my mind is mush, my vision haze, and my throat taken over by drunken, mind-numbing cider. Even if I’d planned a monologue—which, why would I, when offering my heat is the opposite of everything I ever said wanted—words don’t come out.

  I’m hypnotized by Finn and Orion. They’re loving their blowjob so hard I wish I hadn’t made that noise, because I need to watch until the glorious finish.

  I try to take a deep breath, center my chakras and stow my mental baggage in the overhead compartments, but sucking in the scent of Orion’s sweet heat, all I can do is whimper.

  Get your shit together!

  This is a big ask.

  The biggest of my life.

  When the words stick in my throat, the moment dragging too long, Jett’s upper lip curls and Atlas pulls Orion tighter.

  Defensively tighter.

  Even Hunter shifts, squaring up to me and folding his arms across a jacked, tattooed chest where he may as well ink an extra warning—do not enter!

  A sick premonition rots my belly.

  I have to say something.

  Words!

  “My—”

  “Not the time,” Atlas growls, a bass rumble in his chest. It’s the deep, warning sound that would have my inner omega running to hide under all the blankets if we weren’t so busy being gutted. “Get the fuck out.”

  “You heard him.” Jett’s cold, dark gaze hits like the abyss. “You don’t belong here.”

  “But, I—”

  “Shut the door, Lilah. We’ll deal with it later,” Hunter says, already turning away from me.

  Finn never even looks. Like he doesn’t hear me. Like I don’t exist.

  While my heat burns me to ash, one sub-zero thread of ice cuts into my chest, all ragged, bloody shards that slice a little deeper with every pump of my shattering heart.

  I could step inside. Force my perfume on them.

  My pheromones would change this game in a caramel-soaked second.

  But I already have their answer.

  “Get. Out,” Atlas growls possessively, flashing teeth as he hugs Orion like I’m here to rip away his mate.

  It’ll never be me in their arms.

  Never. Be. Me.

  Orion reaches, but I know he doesn’t know what he’s doing. His hand lands in Finn’s messed-up hair. Orion tips his head back with a soft, throaty moan that draws their attention back where it belongs.

  Like I never existed.

  My knees give out, my stomach cramping as I pull the door shut.

  I let out a strangled sob.

  I should’ve known better.

  I did know better, and still I hoped, still I wanted—

  Stupid.

  Stupid.

  Stupid.

  I drag myself down the stairs. Just the thought of standing up straight sends knives stabbing through my belly. I want to run, run far way, and never see this house, or these alphas again, but I can’t even crawl without losing my grip every few steps.

  I finally stumble into the basement, wrists and knees ac
hing, ignoring the tears that drip onto the cement and the growing, gnawing pain in my chest and core.

  I’m tired.

  I’m so fucking tired of never being enough. Never being chosen. Always being the one who’s thrown away.

  Even by my mates. My fated mates.

  Fate is fucking bullshit.

  I won’t chase anymore.

  Not Wyvern Pack or anyone else.

  I’m done begging and crying and moping. Even if I’m not done with this pain… I’ll get through it on my own.

  Not because I’m a sad pathetic loner, but because I’m strong and powerful, and I can do anything I want.

  That’s what I’m going to do from now on.

  I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want, because if hiding hurts this much in the end, why be afraid of taking risks?

  I crawl into the shower, turn the water to burn-your-face-off, but it’s not enough. I need to be submerged. I need the world to stop, the sensations to stop, the hurt to stop.

  I inch out of the steam, and my arms and legs wobble.

  I can’t make it to the lake like this.

  Fucking hell.

  I’ll drown if I try to find relief there, and I don’t want to die, it just feels like maybe I should.

  My arms give out in front of the supply closet.

  The door hangs open, and I press my cheek on the cool floor, curled up until I spot the big metal barrels of de-scenter.

  It’s the worst idea I’ve ever had, but being underwater—even under chemicals—sounds like bliss.

  I climb to my feet like I’m summiting Everest, and claw off the barrel’s lid with shaking fingers.

  The chemical sent blows me back, making my eyes water. It’s not as sharp as bleach, but you’d have to be a special kind of damaged to think I should take a bath in here.

  I never claimed to be smart.

  Holding onto the metal shelving, knocking down stacks of toilet paper and tissues, I swing a foot over the lip. The chemical soaks up to my ankle. I flinch, expecting a burn, because this shit is caustic, but it’s nice and cool when it touches my heat-torched skin.

  I dip my leg.

  I swear, the last time I spritzed myself with this stuff it stung, but now it’s…nice. The chemical scent sears Orion out of my system, and the thick, room-temperature liquid is honestly soothing.

  Or maybe it’s just that everything else hurts.