Page 6 of Lavender and Lightning

“We’re heading back to the pack house. We’ll see you and Matty there,” Rhett says before they end the call.

Silence falls again as we make the turn toward Bristol Point, the housing development Pack St. Clair owns and specifically built to keep Seth Douglas out. Their haven from the outside world.

Pack houses are, generally speaking, guarded spaces. I’ve heard of larger packs having whole office buildings as their pack house, where smaller packs often have one central residence. They function as a place to conduct pack business, or be together and bond. Growing up, the Anderson Contracting office was where my father, as prime alpha, would handle inter-pack disputes or other pack affairs, with my childhood home being more of an intimate gathering space. While pack houses don’t have the same quasi-sacred status as omega nests, being invited into the pack space requires trust.

When we pull into the wide driveway of the white farmhouse-style house that Rhett personally designed, I can’t help but let out a tense breath. There’s something intimate and comforting about this building, even from the outside. After parking in the garage, Rhett takes my hand again as we use the side door and cross the covered porch connecting the garage and the main house. Before he opens the door, he stops and turns back to me. I try to hide it, but I can’t help the stiffening of my shoulders as his hand comes up toward my face. His fingers are gentle as they cup my chin, tilting my head up to look into his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, thumb brushing idly over my cheek.

My first instinct is to tell him that it’s okay, and it’s only the last four years of practice that allows me to swallow the dismissal. Because today has not been okay. Someone who meant to do me harm broke down my door, and my nest has been destroyed. I merely nod.

“We’re going to keep you safe, love.Iam going to keep you safe. I promise.”

Hearing the rawness in his whisper breaks my heart. When he leans in and presses his lips to mine, I return the kiss eagerly. It’s a brief meeting, but my stomach dips and dives, my heart beating out of time for a moment. By the time we pull away, I find myself a little calmer, even if my mind still races.

four

Lydia

Steppinginsidethepackhouse is more of a relief than I’d like to admit. My skin still feels too tight, but I’m able to relax now that I’m not out in the open. Rhett leads the way through the mudroom and into the kitchen, and I stop short as I’m assaulted with a riot of color. Balloons of every shade and size litter the floor, with streamers hanging from the ceiling. A banner stretches across the picture window, proclaiming ‘Welcome Lydia!’.

“Shit! Lex said you were still a few minutes out!”

A familiar voice draws my attention to the kitchen island, and I look up to find Lucas standing on it, arms full of streamers. The kitchen looks considerably less decorated, as if he’d been in the middle of pulling things down when we’d walked in. I can’t help but giggle at the flustered and shocked expression on his handsome face. He shakes some of his dark hair from his steel-blue eyes, pink creeping up his neck.

“Was this all for me?” I ask softly, looking around.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Lucas grumbles, hopping off the island and emptying his arms onto the marble.

I give Rhett one more look, which he returns with a nod, before sliding my hand from his and crossing to stand in front of Lucas. Of all the pack members, Lucas had been the most upset that I hadn’t told them about my birthday until the last minute. He’d scrambled to throw together a cookout, which we’d been unable to enjoy due to my hospital stay. Now it appears that another celebration has been spoiled.

Wrapping my arm around his middle, I press my cheek to his deceptively muscular chest. Without hesitation, Lucas returns the embrace, holding me tight around my shoulders. I inhale his s’more and clean towel scent, the last traces of my fears sliding away. Even before the accident, he never treated me like I was some fragile, wilting flower, and I’m glad that hasn’t changed.

“I’m surprised, I promise,” I mutter just for him.

“Are you okay? Lex said something about a break-in,” he whispers into my hair.

I shrug with my good shoulder. “I’m not hurt.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he replies seriously.

I sigh, my heart twisting. I’m not sure I’m ready to look my emotions in the face right now. “I’ll be okay. I’m just glad I’m here.”

Lucas nods, letting it drop for the moment. Rhett’s fingers brush along the back of my shoulders, and I hear the briefest kiss between them as he moves past us and into the kitchen. A year ago, that little act of affection may have made me jealous. But ever since I met Rhett, I’ve learned that there are more types of love, and I know that Rhett has enough for the both of us.

“Is there anything ready to eat? I’m fucking starving,” he comments, trying to keep his tone light despite the heaviness in the air.

“Yeah, there’s some mac salad in the red dish. You hungry, Lydi?” Lucas says, first to Rhett and then to me.

I look up into his face, smiling slightly at the concern shining in his steel-blue eyes. Shaking my head, I settle back into his embrace. More than anything so far, just being held and breathing in Lucas’s calming beta pheromones has done the most for my fragile emotional state. Rhett serves himself, but my focus quickly shifts as Lucas sways gently, one hand running in soothing motions up and down my back. The soft, steady touch helps chase away the last bits of my panic, and I take another inhale. There’s something sharp and savory wafting up from Lucas’s shirt, and I furrow my brow.

“Were you chopping onions?” I whisper, carefully keeping my voice down so Rhett can’t hear.

“No. I was cutting up some cheddar for the charcuterie board,” he replies, matching my volume.

I hum, stomach tightening. Cheddar and something toxic. But I’d only caught the faintest trace of the intruder. I’m not sure, and even if I’m right, saying anything right now, when the tension in the air feels thick enough to cut with a knife, would only end badly.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Lucas asks, bending down to speak into my ear.

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