by Lola Rock
Darkness pulses through my veins as we pull up to the house.
I should want to ride my bike with the lights off, smash a bottle over a bar and start a brawl, or drink to fucking oblivion, but instead I’m craving a hit of starlight.
I can feel where she is.
Something calls me downstairs, heavy as gravity. I follow the call, picking the doors that stand between me and Lilah.
She sits alone at the tiny kitchen table, a blanket over her shoulders, tapping at her tablet. Her chin jerks up. “Finn?”
I drink her in.
It feels like ages since I saw her. Too long.
Has she gotten more beautiful?
There’s a flush in her cheeks. A sparkling, blushing pink like she’s been drinking glitter smoothies.
Her eyes glitter too. A dark, smoky grey that cuts through the nothing.
I love when she levels those eyes at me, when her nose wrinkles and she furrows her brow, cute as shit. “You picked my lock?”
“Needed to see you.” I swallow her in my arms, pulling her from her chair. She’s color and heat and fucking life.
Lilah melts into me, slipping a soft moan as her arms and legs wind around me.
I carry her into the nest like I already own her. Dropping on the edge of the bed, I sit her so she straddles me, her nose buried against my neck.
I want to feel her teeth in me.
I want her mark.
You don’t deserve her, whispers the darkness.
Don’t I fucking know it. That won’t stop me from claiming her. Won’t stop her from leaving me, either.
But I don’t give a shit about forever.
I just want her now.
A rumble kicks up in my chest, because fuck, I’m angry I haven’t already made her mine.
Lilah jolts like I stuck her thumb in a socket. “Finn! I can’t— We can’t—”
I smooth her hair with the flat of my palm, and a soft, soothing purr, a sound I’ve never made in my fucking life, rolls out of me like I’m a natural. “Can’t what?”
“This.” She pulls away from me. “You and me. Me and your pack. You can’t betray Orion.”
Betray?
“Who’s betraying? We’ll invite him.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t. I’m leaving soon anyway. I—Finn!”
Lilah yelps as I roll us, pinning her to the bed.
Wide-eyed, she stares up at me, her pulse moving in her neck. I want to show her the darkness, but it bleeds away when I feel her underneath me. The soft puff of her breath, her trembling warmth.
She settles me.
The urges, the pain, the nothingness.
Everything fades until it’s just me, Lilah, and the long line of her neck begging for my bite.
I lean to lick her throat.
There’s no strawberry, maple, or cotton candy. No rain or storm or earthy goodness.
Lilah tastes like lotion.
A harsh chemical lotion.
I pull away, swallowing and working my unhappy tongue like I just licked a box full of envelopes. “What is that?”
“What is what?” She squirms out from under me, and I let her go when I hear the high note of panic in her voice.
“Babydoll. I’m going to buy you some new perfume.” Something fruity and lickable.
“Perfume?” Lilah yelps.
“Just until your real perfume comes in.” Then she won’t need a thing on her delicious skin.
“You have to go.” She says, withdrawing until her back’s against the wall.
She twinkles, but the farther away she moves, the more she looks like a star out of reach, the more the darkness crushes.
I can’t be without her. Not tonight. “I can behave.”
Fuck. I can try to behave.
No. I can. I can if that’s what I have to do to be with her.
Lilah grips her T-shirt so hard the fabric stretches. There’s something desolate about her that shoots pain through the spot in my chest where my heart used to live.
Is that fucker still beating?
“I…” She shivers, but forces herself to meet my gaze. “I like you.”
My heart-space thumps. “Then we—”
“That’s the problem.” She digs her nails into the fabric, stretching the cloth tight across her belly. “I’ll be gone and you’ll forget me.”
“I won’t.” I can’t.
She shakes her head. “Tell that to Atlas. Tell it to Jett. I know when I’m not wanted.”
She cradles herself and there’s an unspoken always that I ache to soothe.
An ache?
Me.
Fucking what?
How?
She’s supposed to be a toy.
A plaything.
My babydoll.
So why are pink and grey the only colors I can see? Why does my chest ache? My canines burn, begging me not to play but to mark her forever.
Mark her as mine so she can never escape.
Mark her as mine so that I can always find my way out of the dark by the light of my north star.
“Baby—” The nickname tastes like tar on my lips. It’s not right. It’s not her. “Star. You can’t leave.”
“I have to.”
“Why?” There’s a tear in my voice, a never-heard-before rip.
“I don’t belong with you.” She holds her head high, daring me to challenge.
I love it when she shows her backbone. I think there’s a shit-ton more attitude she’s been hiding, and I want to tease it out, see how high my girl can fly.
But if she flies with me?
Crash and burn.
I’ll only drag her down.
I have to let her go.
Because if I don’t now, I never will.
“You don’t belong.” Not to me, thank fuck. I’d destroy her, ruin her pretty patch of color in the endless dark. “Why don’t you get the fuck out, and I’ll do the same.”
When I walk upstairs, all I feel is ice.
I keep walking until my feet take me to the garage. I grab a set of keys and jump on my Ducati. I rev the gas, waiting for the engine’s rumble to give me back my spark.
Nothing.
Flying down the driveway doing a buck twenty.
Nothing.
I park outside one of Wyvern House’s clubs, cut the line, and duck into VIP. Vodka shots. Tequila shots. More tequila shots. I find the bottom of every glass.
I feel nothing. I see nothing.
When a beta wraps herself around me, her lips are wax, and her hair the color of ash.
Nothing.
Because that’s exactly what I have to offer Lilah.
Fucking nothing.
Thirty-Three
LILAH
Finn’s visit leaves me breathless and rattled. I pace my nest, fighting the urge to bury myself under layers and layers of blankets, but now even those smell like Finn.
There’s nowhere to hide.
His haunting eyes stick with me.
That aching emptiness. I wanted to pour myself into him, wrap myself around him, and never let him go.
Because he’s my mate.
And he doesn’t want me.
None of them want me.
I need to focus on what I want instead of waiting for packs and parents and—well, anyone—to feel like keeping me around.
With my nest reeking of blood orange and heartbreak, I grab a clean sweatshirt and escape the suffocating house, posting up in the gazebo where there’s nothing but fresh air and starlight.
Thankfully, the Wi-Fi reaches this far.
I finish up a job, then send a huge invoice with instructions on how to route the payment to the bank account in my fake name. In the darkness, acting all cloak and dagger, I feel a little more like myself.
Or at least, the self I used to be.
I’m afraid the Wyverns have changed me too much.
I’m afraid what it’s going to be like spending the rest of my life alone.
; “Lilah?” Orion’s soft question cuts through the night. “Are you out here?”
“In the gazebo,” my traitorous mouth answers.
His footfalls crunch against the grass, and the way his skin glows in the moonlight, he looks fae. “There you are.”
He was looking for me.
My inner omega squeals, because Orion wants to be with me.
He noticed I was gone.
I shake that hussy off. He only noticed because he’s just as alone as I am in that house. I’m not the one who can fix it. The pack has to get their shit together.
His pack.
Not my pack.
“What’s up?” I ask, checking my email like it’s so important I don’t give a shit that Orion’s standing there all lonely, practically begging for a hug.
“Oh. I just wondered if you wanted to watch a movie…” I sense him shuffling, scratching at his arms. “The guys are out chasing Finn. He disappeared.”
My stomach sours. Shit, I hope he’s okay.
Not that I should care, but he was feral while he was cutting me down.
“I’m going to head to bed early.” I stare at my screen, using it to shield me from Orion’s weapons-grade pout.
“If that’s what you want. In the morning…” He hesitates on the steps. “You can come up and have breakfast. We eat together before the guys go to work. You could join us…”
I don’t know if he realizes what he’s offering.
Join them?
My brain fizzles out, thinking of more than one way I could join. Like when Atlas has him moaning in the pack bed.
My heart starts to move, and I can feel the blood rising in my cheeks.
A hint of caramel hits my nose.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, trying to hold back the panic. “Good night.”
Orion frowns, his nostrils flaring.
I strain to keep rigid.
Please go. Please leave me alone.
I’m a breath away from throwing myself into his arms and begging him to let me stay. But if he catches my scent… There’ll be no more movie nights or breakfast meets. I’ll be packed in a blacked-out van headed straight to whatever pack picks me up on clearance.
“Good night,” he says, walking off into the night.
I sigh, leaning back on the bench.
That’s when a new message pings my inbox.
I frown because no one has this email address. I only use it for my black market dealings.
The sender’s handle is a long chain of letters and numbers.
Subject: Pack Your Shit
Be in the garage at midnight.
-CW
I snort.
If the C is for Craig and the W is for Wyvern, the chauffeur is getting even more delusional. He’ll never be a Wyvern.
Not that I should be smug.
I’ll never be one either.
I hurry back into the house, all-too-aware that my scent is only spiking higher.
A swim won’t fix it. Neither will starving myself.
I’m past the point of no return.
Pre-awakening, on my way to my first full heat.
I can’t stay here when a near-empty bottle of lotion is the last flimsy piece of spiderweb holding together my web of lies.
I shove the lotion into my duffle with my other shit, including the hoodies and T-shirts that belong to the guys.
They’re my trophies, and I’m keeping them.
I spend the last hour booking bus tickets and a hotel a few states away. I’m trusting Craig to give me a ride off the property, but that’s far enough. Once I’m past the gates and cameras, I’ll tuck and roll out of the car if that’s what it takes to make my own way.
The house is dead when I sneak upstairs. Orion must’ve gone to sleep and the guys aren’t back yet, with two parking slots empty in the hangar of a garage.
I stay in the shadows, crouching, waiting, and dreading what comes next, even though I should be happy.
This is what I’ve always wanted.
The chance to go out on my own. The chance to stand on my own and make my life whatever I want it to be.
Only now, when I picture my witchy cabin in the woods, it has a lot of alphas out back, chopping firewood in unbuttoned flannels that show off their abs. A giraffe of an omega hugs me from behind in the kitchen, nuzzling my neck while I pile up way more sandwiches than I’ll ever eat as a girl on my own.
My heart aches at the vision.
It can’t be like that.
The sound of a rickety engine shatters what’s left of my fantasy.
Craig rolls up in a rust-bucket sedan that would look more at home in a zombie apocalypse than the Wyverns’ mega-garage.
“Is that everything?” He sneers at my duffel bag.
I hoist it over my shoulder. “Just get me out of here.”
“Hold up. I have to check you for a tracking chip.”
“For a what?” I recoil as he reaches for me.
“A chip,” Craig insists. “The Center tags its omegas. Didn’t you know?”
I’ve never heard it mentioned, but it makes sense. Even a Darling is an investment. If I run, the OCC loses what it paid.
“Where would it be?” I smooth my hands over my arms, feeling a crawling sensation under my skin.
“I have the scanner.” He pulls out a hunk of plastic, stepping toward me. “Give me your arm.”
He’s just a beta, but the guy smells like last year’s pizza box and having him in my space sends my omega instincts flailing. My perfume rises in a panicky cloud.
Not just my perfume.
That skin-crawling sensation doubles down.
Something isn’t right.
I open my mouth to scream, to tell him to get the fuck away from me, but Craig is already looming.
“Hold still.” Craig grabs me by the throat, jamming my back against an SUV while he jams a syringe into my arm.
It’s propane in my veins.
My blood boils, vision spinning. I try to react, try to pull away, but my reaction speed is dulled. Everything’s smudged with oil, and I’m on fire.
My throat aches.
My core burns.
My scent soars.
My heat.
It’s here.
Thirty-Four
LILAH
“Holy shit, you smell good.” Craig drops the syringe, raggedly inhaling my neck, pressing against me with his wet cardboard heat.
I want to vomit.
I want to scream, but Craig’s crusty fingers clamp my mouth shut.
I can barely breathe. The air’s oven hot, scorching my throat.
“C’mere.” He drags me to the still-running car, opening the backseat and tossing me inside.
Fight!
I scream in my head, but all that comes out is a strangled mewl. My core clenches and unclenches, my slick flowing.
I need an alpha.
I need one of my alphas to make the hurt go away.
It’s all I can do to breathe and not burn.
I bat at Craig’s grip, hating myself when my hit lands soft as kitten paws. He snags my wrists and binds them in zip ties.
I wriggle, trying to worm away and reach the door handle on the far side of the car, but Craig grabs my calves, holding my legs in place and forcing them open as he slides onto the seat above me.
His pupils are blown. Hair frantic, his scent erratic.
“Omega,” his scratchy, needy voice rakes my skin like claws. “Fuck.”
He shifts his weight, belt buckle making a clink that stops my heart.
For a second, the haze clears.
No fucking way is this happening.
Fuck the heat and the hormones.
Fuck him.
I’m a fighter, and I’m not lying here letting this degenerate rape me.
The idiot shouldn’t have tied my hands in front.
While he pulls at his zipper, I snag the knife tucked into my bra and drive it into his ribs.
&n
bsp; He screams.
I kick.
Craig topples out of the car, banging his head on the way down.
My instincts scream to run, to hide, to flee.
Heat twisting in my belly, I scramble away while Craig groans on the cement.
Need to find somewhere safe.
I run through the garage door, moving awkwardly with my hands bound, fleeing into the woods while Craig rages.
I should’ve gone back in the house.
But no.
I don’t want Craig anywhere near Orion.
I have to run.
Find a tree trunk or a cave or dive into the lake. But I can’t swim zip-tied.
All the while, my heat rides me.
I feel like I’m sprinting through the desert, dry and thirsty as fuck, even though wetness flows between my legs.
I crave. I need.
Pack leader.
Atlas.
Bite.
Knot.
Pack.
I stumble, sucking in shallow breaths, sweating, and tripping on twisted roots.
Escape, fight, escape, fight.
I chant and chant, trying to stay focused, trying to ignore the cramps tightening my belly as my cunt clenches around nothing. Razor sharp with need, my scent screams where I am, my body calling out for my alphas, needing to be filled and fucked.
Craig crashes through the bushes, grunting, so easily following my scent trail.
I trip over a root and slap the ground hard. But I don’t dare move. He’s too close.
So close, it’s like he’s already standing over me when his phone rings.
Craig curses. “I’m on the way. There’s been a—No. No! Don’t come. You promised you wouldn’t—! Hello? Shit. Fuck.” Something crashes and shatters. Then he screams into the night. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
My blood can’t pump faster, but it switches directions, thundering into my head.
I don’t know who’s coming, but I know I don’t want to be here when they show.
I sprint as fast as I can, which isn’t very fucking fast, skirting the treeline until I’m at the far side of the mansion, just behind the back corner of the house. Through the trees, I watch three sleek black cars zoom down the driveway.
Too late to run.
They’re already here.
They park in a screech of brakes, and alphas in dark suits spill out, all big, broad, and packing.
