Lyric & the Heartbeats

by Kole, Lana

  “So… how unpleasant will this be?” Lyric asked. “I’ve heard it’s not the most comfortable sensation.”

  “You guys can sit down, this will take a bit. As for your question, it’s not going to be uncomfortable at all. We’ve got new technology.”

  Lyric sat on her hands before she gave into the urge to reach over and grab Nohen’s or Odd’s hand, who were sitting on either side of her. The doctor’s words did not offer the comfort she was sure he intended.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means no giant syringe of foam to mold your ear canals,” he replied cheerily.

  Her shoulders relaxed, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Nohen glance at her.

  “So how do you do it then?” she inquired.

  Dr. Tern grabbed something off the counter before facing them. Dangling from his hand was what reminded her of a set of over the ear headphones, but without the speaker and earpads, only the frame.

  “We’ve upgraded. After we clean your ears, you’ll put these on, and then we’ll use a scanner to get a 3D mold of your ear canal, and the monitors will be made right here in the office. They’ll be ready by the first night of tour, which I’m told will be in just a few days?”

  Lyric relaxed back into her chair and tried to release her breath of relief silently. Phew.

  The appointment went by slowly. After they cleaned their own ears, the doctor had to do a proper job. The headband settled over her head lightly and the doctor shifted the headset to fit the circles of the earphones over her ears.

  “Relax your face,” he murmured as he held a quietly whirring machine beside her head. “If you look at the computer screen, you can see everything I do.”

  Lyric watched in awe as her ear shape appeared pixel by pixel on the screen.

  “Isn’t it cool?” Doctor Tern asked with giddy excitement.

  Anything that kept her from having foam shoved into her ear was cool, so she nodded.

  It took about three minutes to scan each of them, and by the time each of them had been properly scanned, fitted, and had picked out the color of their monitors, Lyric was beating back yawn after yawn.

  As they walked to the door, she tapped her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stifle another one. Instinctively, she reached for the push bar of the door, but almost fell flat on her face as Adra’s long arm reached in front of her to push it open before she could make contact.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said with a smile. “I forgot that’s apparently your job now.”

  “You’ll catch on eventually,” Adra teased as she walked into the night.

  Emerson grumbled the entire drive to Lyric’s house. Odd was driving, and that was probably a good thing, because if Emerson had been behind the wheel, he would have turned them around at least three times.

  “And… that was our last chance to make a U-turn,” he muttered.

  “Oh, what for?” Odd finally snapped. “We’re going to be basically living with her for six weeks. We can have dinner at her place one time before we get on that bus.”

  The farther they drove, the closer they drew to the upscale, ritzy area of the city. And before long, they were leaving the rich plazas and skyscrapers behind, and turned down a street that led into a residential area of town.

  Emerson crossed his arms, glaring at the GPS. They weren’t anywhere near the goddamned omega center. Where the hell did Lyric live?

  “Why are you going in here?” he barked as Odd pulled onto a short stretch of concrete. The car slowed to a stop before a gate and warm, summer air reached into the car with stifling fingers as he rolled down the window. Odd glanced at his phone before he punched a few numbers into the keypad, beeps drifting into the car.

  Emerson ground his teeth when Odd didn’t answer.

  Guess this was it.

  He eyed the large gate and the security cameras with a glare. At least she lived in a gated community.

  With too many fucking neighbors, he noticed as Odd drove them through the gate. The old car rocked violently as he bumped them off the concrete and onto asphalt. Trees and well-manicured islands of flowers and shrubs framed them on either side as they drove down the one-way drive, which eventually opened up into the housing area.

  Brownstones stretched to the cloudy night sky filled each side of the road, with breaks between each unit that he realized were garages.

  So, at least she doesn’t have to walk to her car. Fine.

  And it doesn’t look like she shares a wall with anyone.

  Odd drove for a few more minutes before they rolled to a stop in front of a brownstone that looked exactly like all the others. The only thing that differentiated it from the others was the strand of lights hanging in the window, highlighting the deep orange of the curtains.

  “How’d you know the code?” Emerson asked.

  “She texted it to me. I know what you’re thinking, but stop it,” Odd chided softly, the seatbelt clanking against the door as he unbuckled. “This place is as private as it gets. The code has a one-time use, and is automatically erased from the system five minutes after it’s typed in.” Odd put his hand on the door but stopped to turn to him. “Stop being so critical of her.”

  Emerson lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m not. But she’s an omega. Who lives alone,” he pointed out.

  “And we’re alphas who don’t have a pack. What about it?”

  With a frown, Emerson shook his head, knowing he wasn’t going to get his point across. He threw open the car door and stepped out, staring up at the pristine building from the sidewalk. Attached to its front was a spotless set of stairs with a potted plant by the door.

  Glancing up again, Emerson tried to tell if they even had the right door. Light shone around the edges of the windows and between the middle of the two panels, but he saw no sign of her.

  Up until a loud beep of an alarm cut through the quiet night, and the door swung open to reveal Lyric, Emerson was certain they had the wrong place.

  Omegas didn’t normally live by themselves.

  She doesn’t have a pack, so where did you expect her to stay?

  “Hey, you found me,” she said softly. She stepped back and waved her arm for them to enter.

  They took two steps inside the door, and Emerson shut it behind him… encasing them in a shoe-sized box. Pressing his back against the front door, he tried to make room for Odd and Lyric in the space.

  “Security entrance,” she explained, and entered a code. Emerson lost track of the clicks before another shrill alarm beep echoed in the tiny room and the main door opened. He avoided knocking into the entrance table as he exited the tiny room, but as he stepped into the main room, he had a whole other problem.

  It smelled like her.

  In practice, he scented the vanilla from her soap and shampoo and it was… nice. But in her home? So much more of her came through instead of the artificial soap.

  His mouth watered as he inhaled a sweeter, gentler scent—lavender and honey.

  Or maybe honeysuckle.

  Or maybe he just really wanted to suckle her honey.

  Her gaze shot sharply to his at the same time Odd knocked an elbow into his side. Hard.

  He coughed as the elbow jarred him in the diaphragm, choking off the sound vibrating his throat.

  “So, this is it,” she said slowly, eyebrow raised in question, and motioned to the rest of the place.

  The question was most likely what the fuck is your problem?

  Emerson took in a shallow breath through his mouth, trying to block out her scent, and focused on her… home?

  It was smaller than he imagined from the outside. But still a fuck of a lot nicer than what he and Odd rented.

  The door they came through opened into one large room, split in half. The living room on the left, and the kitchen complete with a granite counter island on the right. New appliances. Shiny hardwood floors.

  “Bathroom is straight ahead if needed. Watch the steps. Don’t go upstairs,” she warned
as she busied herself in the kitchen.

  Odd, being the perfect damned gentleman, followed her into the kitchen and offered to help before she shooed him to the counter.

  Emerson wanted to snoop.

  But he was afraid if he drifted closer to the back of her home, closer to the stairs and by default her bedroom, that her scent would be even stronger.

  Maybe Odd had the right idea.

  Emerson trailed behind them into the kitchen, and a brief moment of relief was offered as the scent of warm, tangy spices thickened the air.

  “Have trouble finding it?” Lyric questioned as she lifted the lid of something on the stove.

  Spices exploded on the air, muting her scent even more, and while her back was turned, Emerson shifted in place, adjusting himself before his problem became a problem.

  Odd shot him a glare.

  “Not at all. GPS led us right here. What are we having?”

  “Yeah, it smells nice,” Emerson added.

  Beside him, Odd’s eye twitched.

  “It’s a recipe I found online. I wanted something easy, no offense,” she answered over her shoulder. “I figured you guys could eat a lot, and I didn’t feel like searing ten pounds of meat and vegetables. And this soup sounded delicious when I read the ingredients.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be great,” Odd murmured.

  It smelled a lot better than what him and Odd usually tried to throw together. “Who’s going to be cooking on tour?”

  Lyric snorted before she outright laughed. “Whoever volunteers.”

  Emerson laughed dryly. “I hope you like frozen meals.”

  “I know a few recipes,” Adra admitted, shooting Emerson a glare when Lyric turned their back to them.

  She was dressed comfortably, which tickled Emerson’s chest in a funny way. In leggings and an oversized dress and bare feet, it was more casual than he’d ever seen her.

  Part of him wanted to pick her up and carry her to her nest for… a cuddle.

  Yeah. That.

  Pfft. Who was he kidding?

  He tore his gaze away and eyed the large bay window, studying the other side of the curtains. Emerson wanted to do a lot more than fucking cuddle the omega. He wanted her honey sweet scent to surround him, to suffocate him, wanted to taste it on his tongue and in the air.

  Shuffling in his seat again, he stared hard at the curtains as if it was their fault he couldn’t have her.

  The thought made him pause. When exactly had his… hate-on as Desi so eloquently named it, shifted into… this? This itching need to protect and keep her for himself? Was it when she finally stopped hiding herself during practice? Or even more recent, like when they were dancing at the restaurant?

  Maybe it was everything together growing into one gnawing need.

  The question now was when would his urges swallow him whole?

  The blinking string lights pulled him out of his thoughts. The way they dangled and twisted around the curtain rod and looped through the rings attaching the curtains caught his eye.

  His boots thumped across the hardwood floor as he walked over and pulled the curtains aside with one finger. Their car sat on the street below, and as he watched, another pulled in behind theirs. Nohen turned off the lights and as his car door opened, Emerson played with one of the tiny lightbulbs. It was warm to the touch, but not hot, and some of the tension went out of his shoulders.

  “I only turn them on when I’m home, and they’re low heat, if you were about to ask me about fire hazards.” Lyric’s voice carried across the room with a hint of humor.

  His reflection in the window arched a brow, but he didn’t turn. He was too busy watching Nohen fix his hair in the side mirror of his car.

  He let the curtain fall to the side and faced Lyric and Odd, who were sharing a pair of half smiles. Put them together and you might get a whole one.

  “I wasn’t,” he argued.

  He totally was. When had he gotten so… alpha about Lyric?

  Shit.

  “I’ll get it,” he said, just as a muted knock came through the apartment.

  His boots thumped across the floor again as he made his way to the front door, and he frowned. “Do you want us to take off our shoes?”

  “Do you have stinky feet?”

  Emerson turned a glare in her direction before he caught the twitch of her lips and eased his expression. “No.”

  “Then yes. You can leave them by the door.”

  “Oh, sorry,” he heard Odd murmur, and as Emerson opened the door for Nohen, he kicked off his boots in the security room.

  “Hey,” he greeted Nohen.

  “Hey, guys,” he responded, following their lead and unzipping his boots. Nohen was dressed down. And by that, Emerson only meant he wasn’t wearing his signature bow tie or suspenders.

  Emerson exited the small room and made it back to the kitchen in enough time to study Nohen as he entered the apartment. His nostrils flared and his steps faltered for a split second before his gaze latched onto Lyric.

  “Nohen, hi!” Lyric greeted warmly. “Come sit, the soup’s almost ready. Has anyone heard from Desi?” she asked, waving the beta over before turning back to the stove and removing the lid again.

  Emerson cocked his head to the side. Did Lyric even realize she was timing her soup checks with their entrances?

  He almost wanted her to close the lid and forget about the soup. They could just feast on her sweet floral scent for the evening.

  “Oh, shit,” she hissed. “Bread.”

  “Need help?” Nohen offered as he pulled out a bar stool.

  “No, I got it,” she replied. She frantically grabbed at a pot holder before pulling the oven open. A wave of heat washed over them, carrying a mix of her scent, the soup, and the dough.

  Lyric bent over to pull the pan from the oven with a scrape.

  It wasn’t until Emerson righted his head as she stood that he realized the other two were in sync with him.

  He shot an amused glance to Odd, whose brows narrowed in annoyance. His lips were parted.

  Cracking a smile, Emerson leaned over. “Stop mouth breathing, you weirdo.”

  Odd didn’t offer him a response, not that he deserved one. He was poking fun at his ever polite roommate and was having fun doing it.

  It reminded him of how not so polite Odd had been just the other night after the fitting appointment. After all that extra time in Lyric’s presence.

  Maybe tonight would end the same.

  He turned his focus back to Lyric. To her flushed cheeks and the strands of hair blown wild by the puff of hot air from the oven. The smile on her face as she gently patted the top of the cornbread.

  Her scent still lingered around them like a tease, and as Odd shifted in his chair to his left, Emerson knew tonight would end much the same.

  If not even more intense.

  By the time Desi arrived, he almost wished they’d gone out somewhere. Not only was Lyric’s scent still heavy in the room, but now all of their scents were mixing together. It was too natural for them to all gather around the table as his stomach growled, moving plates and bowls and the big pot of soup right to the small dining table.

  Emerson sat in the chair closest to the back wall, while Odd squeezed in beside him. Lyric sat at the head of the table, her back toward the living room, which left Desi and Nohen the chairs directly across from the two alphas.

  “Lyric, your house is so cute. How long have you lived here?” Desi asked as she served herself a bowl of soup with the ladle.

  Thank you, Desi, for asking the questions I am too scared to.

  Emerson just knew anything he asked would come off as judgmental or inquisitional.

  “Ah… I think I bought it the same year my mom died, so that was about four years ago? Maybe five.”

  That perked Emerson’s interest, and he couldn’t help but glance in her direction. “Really? How old were you then?”

  He braced himself for the accusation that was sure to fo
llow, but… it never did. Lyric just cut and passed him a slice of the cornbread.

  “I was twenty-one at the time.”

  “You bought your first house at twenty-one?” Nohen echoed.

  At least one of them could speak, because Emerson was speechless.

  Lyric’s cheeks flushed as she took the ladle from Desi to serve herself.

  That was an impressive accomplishment for anyone, but especially an omega. Had she ever had a pack? Why didn’t she want one? Or maybe, after suffering the death of her mom, she was afraid of losing it?

  A frown tugged at his lips as he thought of Odd. He could understand that fear. Ever since Odd had lost his pack, he hadn’t been the same.

  It was better to miss out on a pack completely, to never know how it felt to have that bond, than to have it and lose it.

  He spooned some soup into his bowl and tried to avoid staring at Lyric.

  “Yeah. Twenty-one. Granted, I used my mom’s inheritance to buy the place, but at least it’s all mine.”

  Emerson’s hackles rose, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Did your mother’s pack not help?”

  Lyric’s gaze met his, but it was empty of the contempt or frustration that usually followed his questions, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. He was genuinely curious. Why hadn’t the pack taken care of Ly—

  “My mom was a beta, and she never found a pack.”

  Lyric must have sensed the questions that ran amuck through their heads at that announcement, because she sighed. A kaleidoscope of emotions reflected in her gaze, in the lines of her face, and the tightening of her fingers around her spoon.

  “It’s kind of a heavy subject, and we can always get into it later. We’ll have the whole tour to get to know each other, but let’s keep it light tonight. Is that okay?”

  Emerson nodded before she even finished asking. “Of course, sorry to pry,” he murmured softly, holding her gaze. A pang of guilt tightened his chest at the thought of her reliving unnecessary pain, and he opened his mouth to change the subject.

  “Two days. Are you ready?” Odd asked.

  The look Lyric sent him was filled with appreciation, and Emerson dropped a hand to squeeze Odd’s thigh briefly in thanks.