Lyric & the Heartbeats

by Kole, Lana

  “Thank you,” he said, tension sliding out of his shoulders. “Security at venues will also be beefing up. Apparently there have been a few kidnapping attempts on omegas in the spotlight.”

  Lyric frowned. “Really? Do you think I could be one of their targets? I know I’m on stage every night, but…”

  Even though she was a new artist. “Yeah. You’re a rising star, but even if you aren’t on their radar, I’d like to be cautious. I don’t want to risk it.”

  “So no more running off, okay?” Adra said close to her ear, his gaze on Henry. Lyric nodded and leaned back into his chest.

  “Deal.”

  And for the first time in a few days, Henry’s chest lightened.

  “Food cures all ailments.”

  That was what Javier had purred in his deep, velvety voice, and Lyric was too weak to argue.

  And that was how she ended up in his van, killing time before stage call and making… pot brownies.

  “This wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I said I wanted something sweet,” Lyric teased.

  “Oh, this won’t be the only thing we make today, pajarita.”

  Lyric melted like the goddamned butter they’d just mixed with the batter at the sound of his voice purring that stupidly cute nickname he’d taken to calling her.

  “What does that mean? Pajarita?”

  He smirked, his lips twitching into a half smile she wanted to trace with her tongue.

  “It means ‘little bird.’”

  Lyric frowned, passing him the bowl of dry ingredients upon the crook of his finger.

  “Why did you nickname me after a bird?”

  Even his chuckle was decadent like the dessert they were making. “There’s not an in-depth reasoning. Birds sing.”

  “Oh,” Lyric said softly.

  It was simple, but it still made her stomach do flips.

  “And the ‘little?’”

  Javier stared down at her from his six foot three position with a grin. “Si,” was all he answered.

  Lyric shook her head. “Maybe I’m not little, maybe you’re just overgrown.”

  “It’s possible. My mother is five-two.”

  That meant she was even shorter than Lyric. “And yet she had you,” she teased.

  “That she did. I’m taller than two of my fathers now even. I think they’re jealous.”

  “Do you have other siblings besides Emma?”

  “I do. Here, stir this,” he said, handing her the bowl of dry and wet ingredients. The smell of chocolate drifted up to her and her stomach rumbled.

  “I am the youngest out of three.”

  “Do you still stay in touch with them even though you’re on the road?”

  “Of course. We are all very close. My mother would have a fit if I didn’t call or at least text once a day. They need to know I’m alive, at least that’s what she says.”

  “Do you still live with them?”

  It was normal for children to remain with their parents as a pack until they were old enough to look for their own.

  “Si. I haven’t found my own pack, despite the multiple attempts from my mother to set me up.”

  Lyric snickered past the pinch of jealousy she felt. “She wants you out of the house, huh?”

  “It seems to be that way. She got her wish, didn’t she?”

  Lyric had never thought about what life was like for an alpha. Now that she thought about it, she related and understood Emerson’s and Adra’s situations more. Living alone? Yeah, she got that.

  It seemed strange to think of sticking by your family for so long.

  “You guys must share a lot of love,” she murmured, scraping the spatula on the side of the bowl.

  “That’s good now, you can set it down,” Javier instructed, sliding a pan in her direction with butter slathered over the metal. “Pour,” he directed. “The house I come from does share a lot of love. What is your family like?” he asked quietly.

  Lyric hesitated as she poured the batter. It folded into the pan slowly, and she used the moment to collect her thoughts like lightning bugs on a summer night. Except the mason jar she used was broken into pieces. And the lightning bugs were actually bees.

  “Your family sounds a lot lovelier than mine ever was. Let’s leave it at that,” she said softly.

  “Understood, pajarita. I apologize if my question upset you.” He leaned across the counter he’d been resting against on his forearms and covered one of her hands with his. His palm was warm, the understanding and apology in his gaze even warmer, and Lyric wanted to erase the concern in his expression with a kiss. He stared up at her, his coffee colored eyes ensnaring her completely, and Lyric lost track of time.

  Javier broke the spell as he looked away, took back his hand, and stood. She mourned the loss of contact. “Are you hungry?”

  As if summoned, her stomach growled.

  He snickered. “I take that as a yes. How about something easy? A sandwich? And then we can make something else sweet.”

  Lyric smiled and smoothed the brownie batter down with a spatula. “Your question didn’t upset me, Javi, I just don’t want to kill the vibes we have today. Sandwiches sound perfect.”

  “What else do you have a craving for?”

  Lyric tapped her finger across her thigh. “I’m not sure. What else can you make?”

  “Just about anything. My sister is an omega, and sweets are her favorite thing to eat. Before she found her pack, she loved being in the kitchen with me.”

  Javier talked as he worked, and Lyric was content just to sit and listen. The cadence of his soft voice, the lilt to each word, the clicks and clacks of the utensils as he moved around the kitchen. After the chaos of the tour, from the flat tire to the rude interview to all of the emotional soul baring she’d done, just watching Javier work around the kitchen with a relaxed ease was enough to make her feel better. It was like... home?

  And from her shameless staring, she deduced those jeans had to have been made for him. They hugged his ass perfectly.

  “What was her favorite thing you would make?” Lyric asked.

  Javier chuckled. “She never said it out loud, but she could eat a whole pan of my chocolate chunk cookies. I’d say those are her weakness.”

  “Let’s make those then,” Lyric suggested. “Do you still keep in contact with her?”

  Javier nodded while pulling out ingredients for their sandwiches. “Yes. Although it’s not as often as I’d like. Her pack keeps her busy.”

  Lyric frowned at the thought. She wouldn’t like not being able to talk to her family just because of her pack. Her mind immediately imagined the worst—a pack of alphas keeping his sister locked away and forcing her to act as housekeeper, mother, and—

  “I can read the horror on your face, Lyric,” he said with a chuckle as he sliced off four pieces of fresh bread. “It’s nothing like you’re imagining. It’s just natural. I went from seeing my sister almost every single day to only hearing from her every few days. But it’s normal. She found her new family, and it’s just part of life. She’s happy, and no matter how much I or my madré miss her, that’s all that matters.”

  Lyric’s cheeks flushed. “I’m that transparent, huh?”

  “You wouldn’t be the first omega to dread being an omega.”

  “Don’t let me pry… but did she dread it at all? Your sister?” she questioned.

  “I think she was nervous to visit the omega center for the first time. But she found her pack easily, and she fell in love just as effortlessly. She’s happy, and that’s all that matters.”

  Lyric studied him as he sliced cheese and collected cold meats from the fridge. He seemed truly unbothered by the topic, as if he didn’t dare question his sister’s happiness.

  “She went the traditional route, hm?” she asked.

  “Yes. My mother wasn’t… I don’t think eager is the right word, but she was supportive when my sister came to us, admitting she was ready to find her own pack. So we set up
an appointment with the omega center, and it went from there.”

  Lyric had been forced to look into the omega center. Her mother had insisted they visit several times, but each time Lyric had sniffed the scent cards and looked over the binder of alphas as if they were trading cards, her stomach had turned.

  Nerves, dread, or any other combination of emotions, she didn’t know.

  She just knew if she was the kind of omega to have an alpha counterpart—or two, three, maybe even five?—they weren’t located in those binders.

  “I’m glad she found her pack and that she’s happy.”

  “Me too,” he said, passing her a napkin wrapped delight.

  Lyric grinned and their fingers brushed as she accepted her homemade lunch. “Do you make the bread too?” she inquired, inspecting the perfect, evenly sliced bread.

  “Sometimes. This batch I did, but this is the last of it.”

  Lyric grinned as she bit into the sandwich under Javi’s watchful gaze.

  And only once she’d swallowed and offered a compliment did Javier bite into his own sandwich.

  “My sister used to come hang out on the truck with me if she was feeling cooped up. Some of her favorite magazines are over in the corner there if you want to browse them.”

  “Really? Okay.” She hummed distractedly and turned her back.

  Picking out a magazine was mostly a front, because Lyric’s full attention was being held by the alpha mumbling to himself in Spanish.

  Lyric blindly selected a bent magazine from the rack and hoisted herself up in one of the stools at the opposite end of the counter. She laid the magazine down on the few spare inches of space left and flipped the pages, barely absorbing the colorful images or blur of words as Javier danced around the kitchen to a well practiced beat that only he could hear.

  Lyric, at first, only glanced down at the pages of the magazine to disguise her infatuation with watching Javier work in the kitchen. It was clear he belonged there. He glided around the compact space effortlessly, as if he had it memorized by heart. He didn’t even look in the drawers he pulled out, his hands wrapping around the proper utensils and pulling them out with ease.

  Wisps of his dark hair escaped the bun he’d thrown it in, and she wanted to wrap the short curls around her finger. Concentration and joy were drawn into the lines of his face as if carefully placed by an artist.

  She wanted to run her fingers through his hair. Pull his head down to hers and—

  His gaze darted over to her, and she glanced down at the magazine to hide her fascination.

  A shimmer of color caught her eye, and she studied the pages more carefully.

  A beautiful redhead was on the page of the magazine, along with other unique models. The one thing they all had in common?

  Bond marks.

  Lyric studied the shimmer of color that highlighted the bite marks on the different omegas. The article itself was about makeup, but the words kind of blurred together after a while, so she went back to studying the images.

  She had a tattoo. Would a bond mark be that much different?

  “Ah, yes. This was one of my sister’s favorites editions. I remember looking at this spread with her,” Javier said far too close to her shoulder.

  She tilted her head back to look up at him, but his gaze was locked on the magazine.

  He seemed oblivious to the way her breath caught at his proximity.

  “It’s really… unique. To highlight bond marks that way,” she murmured and turned her attention back to the pages.

  “Mm-hmm, that’s what Emma said too. She wanted to buy the makeup just so her guys could put it on her.” He chuckled. “What made you stop on that page?”

  Lyric didn’t really want to admit that she just happened to glance down to avoid his gaze, so she shrugged. “Bond marks are something I’ve never thought about. Not seriously.”

  But…

  If she were to stay with her band after tour… wouldn’t that eventually come up?

  She swallowed. Once upon a time, just the thought of a bond mark would have terrified her. And a smidge of that fear still remained. But glancing down at the magazine, seeing the models happy and gorgeous and proud to show off their marks?

  Lyric wondered if she would get to feel proud one day too.

  Would she want that with her pack?

  Henry or Adra? Emerson?

  A pang of sadness went through her at the thought that Nohen wouldn’t be able to leave a mark on her as well.

  At least… not one that he wouldn’t have to refresh each day.

  She chuckled to herself, and then brushed her thumb over the tattoo on her thigh.

  Hmm.

  Her and Nohen could find their own version of a bond mark.

  Lyric blinked, the kitchen coming back into focus as she let go of her thoughts. What was she thinking?

  She was thinking as if she’d already made up her mind, as if she was already planning to stay with her band. With her alphas.

  Lyric glanced up at Javier. “What the hell d’you put in my sandwich?”

  “Pardon?” he asked, a smile curling his lips. “Why do you ask?”

  Lyric crossed her arms and stared up at the alpha. “I’m not a normal omega.”

  “Yes, pajarita, I believe I recognized that from the start.”

  “But I’m having normal omega thoughts.”

  “What are normal omega thoughts?”

  Waving her hands around, Lyric sighed. “You know, thinking about a pack and bond marks and stuff like that.”

  “Have you never wanted a pack before?” he asked, moving closer, bracing his palms on either side of her on the counter.

  Lyric shook her head, breath a commodity in the moment. “No. Never. To be honest, I’ve kept it that way on purpose. Until recently… I’ve never seen alphas as anything more than a danger to me.”

  “But now you’re changing your mind, hmm?” he questioned, scratching his cheek as he gazed off into space. “You’ve been focusing solely on music, yes?”

  She nodded.

  Javier shrugged, then shared a knowing smile with her, one she was close enough to taste if she wanted. “Maybe you were a normal omega all along. Maybe you just needed the right alphas to feel safe to let her out of her cage.”

  Lyric propped her head on her hand and lost the battle against the smile curling her lips.

  Maybe he was right.

  “Do you feel better?” Emerson asked, stroking his fingers through Lyric’s hair.

  She hummed lazily, not even bothering to open her eyes. “Mm-hmm, as long as you keep playing with my hair,” she murmured.

  If Emerson hadn’t been looking at her, he probably wouldn’t have even realized she was talking. That was how blissed-out she was.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responded, lips twitching.

  He glanced up to meet Adra’s gaze across the bus, the other alpha smirking as he looked up from the sketchbook on his lap.

  His pencil continued to move lightly even as he studied the omega sprawled out on Emerson’s lap.

  Lyric’s head was pillowed on Emerson’s thigh.

  “No more pot brownies for you,” Emerson teased as he brushed a thumb across her cheek. “You’re totally useless.”

  Lyric huffed and shifted her gaze to his, tilting her head to capture his thumb between her teeth and bite threateningly. It hurt about as much as a kitten’s playful bite, but he tried not to laugh.

  “Take it back,” she mumbled through her bite.

  “Nope,” he refused, popping the ‘p’ and giving up the battle against his smile. “So this is what happens when we let another alpha steal you for a day? You come home stoned and too sleepy to even play video games.”

  “We cooked a lot,” she said, brushing her lips over his thumb and closing her eyes again. “Cooking’s hard work, you know. We should give Javi a raise. He does it every day.”

  Henry snorted, and Lyric picked her head up off Emerson’s lap to glare at
the other alpha. “What are you laughing at?”

  “You’re an adorable omega.”

  Emerson sensed the tension in Lyric’s body, and he stiffened in response. Even his breath paused, captive in his chest as he awaited her rebuttal. He could practically feel her hackles rising and studied her for any sense of movement. It was like time froze for a moment in the bus, even Adra’s pencil stopped scraping across the paper.

  But Lyric just shuffled back down into her comfy position, grabbed Emerson’s hand, threaded it back through her hair, and hummed as she closed her eyes. “That’s me. Cute as fuck.”

  Something bubbled in his chest, like the water running off into a brook at the end of a stream. It filled and filled until he was sure it would overflow, but it never did.

  Happiness? A sense of pride, maybe?

  Yes. He was an alpha proud of his omega. Lyric hadn’t lashed out in response to being called an omega.

  Was this Henry’s way of testing her? A sly attempt at conditioning her to accept herself for who she was?

  Emerson stared down at the beauty in his lap. Continued stroking through her long, reddish blond hair, traced the shape of her lips and the feathering of her lashes across the top of her cheeks.

  Was he not giving her enough credit?

  Lyric was strong, and that strength went much deeper than just the walls she’d built around herself.

  It was something he was discovering the more she let them in. Brick by brick, they were revealing more of her, learning more about her, and he suspected Lyric was learning more about herself too.

  He wished he could know what had gone through her mind just now. What thoughts had she followed that led to her lying back down and brushing off his words—or better, accepting them as truth without more than a little hesitation and moving on?

  “Cute is one word I’d use to describe you, sure,” he murmured softly.

  “What’s that?” she asked, cracking one eye open to peer up at him.

  He shook his head. “Never mind.”

  Once Lyric had closed her eyes again, Emerson watched Adra sketch for a while, their gazes meeting, Adra’s knowing smile only growing.