Lyric & the Heartbeats

by Kole, Lana

  Relief eased the tightness in her torso. “I’m glad you found each other.”

  “Me too,” Adra said, and squeezed her hand. “It wasn’t all bad. I mean, it led me here, right?”

  Lyric shifted her head, staring up at him, and her breath caught again for an entirely different reason. There was no fear or hesitation in it, only heat. Possibility. A softness that scared her as much as it warmed her chest.

  “And what about you, Emerson?” she inquired. Like a coward, she turned away from the promises in Adra’s gaze and sought Emerson’s.

  “Ah, not much really,” he began, brushing his hair back from his face. “Like Adra, I was in a band, and they were like my pack, but really we were just friends who lived together. There was no bond beyond the music. We toured locally, played a lot of shows, compiled our savings. I just didn’t realize what we were saving for until it was too late.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked. Adra grunted in response, and her heart sank. It wasn’t good.

  “The guys… they really wanted a pack. Like, the bond and everything. And for a while, they’d play pack with a groupie. Pick her up at a bar and pretend for a few weeks that they all lived happily ever after.”

  Lyric’s stomach turned, and it took her a moment to recognize why. It was jealousy. At the thought of Emerson playing pack with anyone but her.

  Playing pack… is that what I’m doing?

  Was Lyric just kidding herself? Laying there, stretched out on the floor between two alphas after a handful of blissful orgasms. What happened after the tour was over?

  As that thought reared its ugly head, Lyric shut it out and refused to let herself go there.

  “What happened to the groupies?” she asked to distract herself.

  Emerson’s lips thinned into a single line, and his fingers tightened over her hips before relaxing. “That’s why I eventually left. I’d rather risk going feral than being responsible for another girl like that.”

  Lyric’s stomach swirled. “Emerson, what happened?”

  “It was nothing awful. They’d just… they’d carry her along for a few cities and then try to drop her off somewhere unknown. It was careless. Anything could have happened to those girls.”

  “What do you mean could have?”

  Emerson shook his head, the strokes on her hip losing their rhythm. “I couldn’t let the guys just abandon them. So I’d use my split from the profits of the show and get them a bus back home. Or I’d take them to the nearest omega center. I told the guys they were being assholes, warned them to stop, and they said they would… if I’d let them use my cut of the funds to put their scent cards in the omega center’s database for omegas to pick from.”

  Lyric tensed, but Adra and Emerson soothed it out of her with their soft touches.

  “I figured… why not? It’d save a girl from putting up with their bullshit, and maybe we’d find an omega to get them to settle the hell down. It worked for a while. We toured closer to home, picked up jobs, rented a warehouse and refurbished it. But then… the omega center called.”

  Lyric rolled over, placing her head on his chest instead of Adra’s. Emerson laid a palm over her shoulder, and Adra’s covered her hip. They traced matching shapes on her skin. “I take it that it didn’t go to plan?”

  Emerson scoffed. “No. An omega picked us. Came out to meet us with the omega center reps. The guys were… smitten. They adored her at first sight. Would’ve bent over backwards to make that omega happy. Even I got my hopes up a little.”

  Lyric’s chest pinged with jealousy. Not for the band—no, they left a bad taste in her mouth. But at the thought of Emerson wanting to… spoil someone.

  No. Not someone. An omega.

  “What happened?”

  “We weren’t good enough for her. Don’t get me wrong, she was probably better off, especially with the baggage those guys carried. But we’d put our blood and sweat and tears into that place, turning it into a home. And this stuck-up girl just came in and tore it all apart with a sneer and a few careless words. Totally wrecked our home without touching a single thing. It left me a little… bitter, where omegas are concerned,” he explained, licking his lips and glancing at her nervously.

  “They tried to go back to their old ways, but I wasn’t letting them play that game anymore. I tried to warn one of the groupies beforehand, and one of the guys overheard me.”

  Emerson rubbed a hand over his face, fingertips rubbing over his left eyebrow. It was one she’d noticed before, the one with a tiny scar through the edge of it.

  “They got pissed, naturally. Tried to gang up on me, but they were all talk. Liked to play tough until it got real. I quit after that, mid-tour. Sent a warning to the local venues, a heads-up to a few of the ones left on the tour.” Emerson chuckled darkly. “They ended up quitting the tour early, canceling the last few shows because word got around and they were catching so much shit from the scene.”

  “I wish I’d been there,” Adra rumbled. “I would’ve helped you teach them a lesson.”

  Lyric hid her smile. She’d been right all along. There was a heart under Emerson’s prickly exterior. She just had to weave her way through all the thorns to the rose at the center.

  “So that was why Andi wanted me to talk to you at the venue.”

  Andi had known Emerson was protective. Knew he would be a good fit for her bus, her band, her tour.

  Emerson smiled sheepishly at her comment. “I’m still sorry for calling you a spoiled omega.”

  Lyric shrugged. “It’s me doing the spoiling, so I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  And for the first time, Lyric realized she was right. She could be as spoiled as she damned well wanted to be.

  Emerson flicked a strand of hair over her back. “Even if it wasn’t… you’re an omega worth spoiling, Lyric.”

  Lyric paused, raked her gaze up his chest, over the dusting of hair on his pecs to the strong lines of his throat and the angles of his jaw, the bow of his lips and his straight nose, before finally clashing with his eyes.

  Did he mean that?

  The sincerity shining back at her from his green orbs told her all she needed to know.

  Her chest ballooned with surprise, affection sneaking in somehow and reflecting in the curl of her lips.

  She pulled herself on top of him, straddling his waist, and peered down at the prickly soft alpha.

  “Prove it.”

  After Emerson ‘proved it’ over and over again with Adra’s help, their next day off passed in a blur.

  Lyric had gone on her first date ever, though no one had said it was such. But what else did you call dinner and a cute walk through the park framed by two overprotective alphas?

  It was Adra’s and Emerson’s hands she held as the leaves blew past them to dance across the grass. When the chill had gotten to be too much, Adra had happily tucked her under his arm while they talked and teased each other until the hotel was back in sight.

  Now, the beeping of her phone was finally waking her up, far too few hours later.

  “I blame the both of you,” she murmured, stifling a yawn and shifting on the king-sized mattress.

  Lyric might have upgraded them and put it on her own card. She wasn’t spending the entire weekend on the floor. Like she’d told Emerson with a smile, “I might be slumming it with the two of you, but even I have standards.”

  His lips had twitched before he realized she was baiting him.

  “Slumming it, huh? What do you think about that, Odd?”

  Lyric gulped, heat swirling in her stomach before dropping lower at the glance they shared.

  “I think she should be more specific about these standards. We wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”

  They’d spent the next half hour edging her, trading between packing their overnight bags and playing with her until she was ready to scream. Then they’d made her walk on shaky legs to the new room…

  Where her world had been rocked over and over again.
>
  “You’re the one who kept asking for more,” Emerson retorted.

  Adra snuffled, a snore trailing off as he began to wake up, smacking his lips together.

  “Can you blame me?” she returned, and rolled over into his warmth.

  “Only if you don’t blame us.”

  “Speaking of resting…” Adra began. “Do you always sleep so restlessly?”

  Lyric’s cheeks flushed. She vaguely remembered tossing and turning as the night dragged on.

  “I’m sorry. It’s the suppressants. They make me a light sleeper.”

  Adra’s lips turned down. “They do? Is that the only side effect?”

  With a shrug, she shuffled beneath him. “Yeah, basically.”

  “Basically? What else is there?” Emerson inquired.

  “It’s no big deal, they just make me a little head and body-achy sometimes. Nothing major.”

  Emerson frowned, one to rival Adra’s. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “It’s okay, really. I have other medicine to help it. It’s fine.”

  Emerson choked back an argument, and Lyric shuffled, raising a hand to wave the cool air of the room to motion for them to get up.

  “It’s your body, your business,” Emerson conceded. “But if you need anything, let us know.”

  “Okay,” Lyric agreed, her heart squeezing. What could they do? It was her suppressants, her problem.

  He squeezed her once before shuffling out of bed and holding out a hand to pull her across the expanse and to her feet.

  “We’re just going right to the bus, I’m not bothering with real clothes,” she muttered, digging around in her pile of clothes for a comfy shirt.

  “There are shirts in my bag, help yourself to one,” Adra mumbled.

  She glanced over her shoulder and… the shirt slipped through her fingers to drift to the floor. Adra was rolled over on his stomach near the edge of the bed, his left hand tucked lazily beneath his cheek, fingers lightly gripping the edge of the mattress as his right arm dangled over the side to touch the floor. He was a perfect picture of too early mornings, and he looked far too tempting.

  “Stop that. You’re making me want to get back in bed.”

  Adra rolled over slowly, taking the sheet with him—barely—and showed off his morning wood.

  “Then do so,” he retorted in an irresistible morning rasp.

  Lyric took a step just as his hand slipped beneath the tented sheet and began to move. The fabric shifted with each stroke and Lyric’s mouth watered.

  “Not fair,” she breathed, unable to tear her gaze away.

  “Hey!” Emerson barked from the bathroom.

  Lyric jumped, her cheeks flushing guiltily as she turned toward him.

  “It’s bus time. Not play time,” he warned.

  Adra sighed dramatically, and by the time she’d faced him again, his hands were tucked safely beneath his head, biceps wired with muscle.

  “You’re no fun.” Lyric pouted at them both.

  “I can be plenty of fun. Later. But let’s not piss Henry off. Get ready.”

  Lyric moved to do just that and mocked his stern expression to pull a chuckle from Adra. She veered toward Adra’s bag and began rifling through his shirts. “Adra… why do all your shirts have stains on them? Are they…” She rubbed her finger over a pale orange smear and cocked her head. “Paint?”

  He glanced away as he answered, “Probably.”

  Lyric dropped the shirt to hang between her two fists. “You paint?”

  How did I not know this?

  “Maybe.” He shrugged and pushed himself up to sit on the bed.

  Lyric arched a brow, signaling for more information as she slipped her shirt over her head. If he could play tease, so could she.

  Adra went silent as she folded her shirt and grabbed one of his. Eventually, she glanced up as the silence stretched on, rolling her hand at him to continue. His gaze jumped from her chest to her eyes, and a smile threatened to replace the indifferent expression she was barely holding on to.

  “Right... I draw. Sketch mostly. I play with paints only when I feel particularly… inspired.”

  “When was the last time you painted?”

  “Don’t know. But I can say I’m feeling pretty inspired right now,” he drawled, his words dripping with something she couldn’t define but would be more than happy to let him try and explain. Or maybe even show her.

  Did Adra pour his heart and soul onto paper with a pencil and smudged fingers over blank paper the same way she did with a pencil and crossed out lyrics on a lined sheet?

  It was unfair, but she wanted to see his notebook, wanted to read the bible of Adra and see who he was through his art.

  Lyric guarded her own book so closely because it held secrets she’d never shared with anyone. Not her mother, not Andi. And she wouldn’t be sharing it with anyone on the bus. It was unfair of her, because she wanted a piece of him she wasn’t ready to reciprocate.

  “I have a little,” he said, and shrugged.

  “If you wanna see his art, just check out my arm.” Emerson’s deep voice carried through the room as he reentered.

  Lyric already had. She’d studied and kissed and traced every piece of ink on his left arm, but only now did she realize the connection. “Did you design his tattoos?”

  Adra’s cheeks deepened in color, and he glanced away, the morning sun framing him like a golden halo.

  “Not so much design as he saw the art and demanded I let him take it to his tattoo artist,” Adra rumbled.

  Lyric glanced between the two of them.

  “Can I see the original?”

  Emerson sauntered over, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and leaning down to nip at her neck. “Why? You wanna do a live comparison?”

  Lyric grinned. “Something like that.”

  He smoothed the sting of his teeth away with a kiss. “Maybe tonight, if you make it to the bus in time.”

  Lyric had never showered so fast in her life.

  As the road rumbled beneath them, Lyric stared out the window above Emerson’s and Adra’s heads. She watched trees and other cars and road signs pass by, but her mind was stuck in the hotel room, in the city they’d left behind miles ago.

  Lyric, who’d sworn off packs and alphas and anyone but herself… was smitten.

  Stupid alphas and their dumb charm and their big dicks.

  “You good?” a voice asked.

  No one answered, and it was a long pause later when Lyric finally looked up to meet Nohen’s gaze, an arched brow awaiting her answer.

  “Me?”

  “Yes. You’re the one muttering about big dicks.”

  Her cheeks burned hot, and she swallowed. “Uh… yep. I’m good.”

  Dammit.

  She couldn’t get them out of her mind even though they were ten feet away.

  Even though she’d spent the whole weekend with them. Going on a date.

  And wouldn’t mind going on another, now that she thought about it.

  In fact, she pulled out her phone and checked the shared calendar for their next hotel break. Eight days.

  “I can’t believe they haven’t made any progress yet,” Desi grumbled.

  Lyric glanced over to investigate the disgust in her voice and found Desi buried in her phone.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Desi eased the frustration from her expression before she met Lyric’s gaze. “I keep seeing articles and updates about the omega trafficking ring. I don’t understand how they haven’t caught them yet.”

  Lyric’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Did another omega go missing?”

  “Yeah. According to this, there’s no pattern, no discernible connection between victims other than their omega status. They all look different too. And it’s almost like it’s spread all over the country, because omegas are disappearing from everywhere, not just one area! Seriously, how could they—”

  “Desi,” Nohen hissed. “Stop it,
you’re making her nervous.”

  Desi swallowed the rest of her rant, glancing to Lyric with a furrowed expression. “Lyric, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. You don’t have to worry about any of it—you’ve got a bus full of alphas and two scrappy betas who are ready to kick some ass.”

  “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Lyric waved her off, but the uneasy feeling persisted.

  Happy thoughts, Lyric chanted. What had she been thinking about before?

  Alpha dates. Dates with her alphas. Right—

  Locking her phone, Lyric placed it in her lap and went back to staring out the window.

  Maybe next time they cou—

  A deafening boom interrupted her thoughts and cleared her mind as fear stole the place of her daydreams. Everything after happened in a split second.

  The entire bus rocked to the right, and she threw her hands out, one bracing her against the table and the other gripping the back of the couch. To her left, Henry threw an arm over her chest, the action striking her in the heart harder than she was thrown against his forearm.

  The bus righted itself, and she jostled back into place as it rumbled down the highway.

  Her pulse raced as it bounced and rocked along down the highway, too fast for her comfort, the rumble of the bus deafening. There was another sound too, a rhythmic rattling that shook the bus.

  “Satanic wheel of fortune, anyone?” Nohen asked dryly.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Henry glance down at her hand at the same time she did. Her knuckles were white from her tight grip on the table.

  After the terrifying talk about the omega kidnappings, and now this? What the fuck was going on?

  “What’s going on?” she shouted.

  “Blown tire,” Henry called back, something akin to boredom in his tone.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Lyric growled. “Is this not exciting enough for you?”

  His lips quirked into a half smile, and she swore right then and there that if she made it off the damned bus alive, she’d strangle him.

  They quickly coasted to a stop on the side of the highway, traffic blasting past them. Once they were stopped, she froze for a solid ten seconds longer and then leapt into motion, following Henry and the others off the bus.