Page 3 of Lavender and Lightning

Which is why I have to join Pack St. Clair. Once I sign the documents, Alexandra will become my prime alpha. Then the only way Darren can get near me will be in person, and we can take steps to guard against that. It will also grant me protection from Seth and any future harassment that could come from him. Joining this pack is what I want, even if I’ve only known them for a few months. But I trust them, love Rhett and Mateo, and it is the best possible solution to my current problem. Even if a small, irrational part of my brain is screaming that I don’t deserve this, that I’m just a burden and they are only offering me safety out of obligation. But that voice is easy to push aside, especially when Rhett’s fingers in my hair feel like magic.

Rhett shuts off the hair dryer, and I hand him my hairbrush. His touch is gentle, and I can’t help my little hum of pleasure at the sensation as I let my eyelids fall closed. A wave of whiskey and dark chocolate settles over me, and I smile wider. Someone playing with my hair has always been a weakness of mine. I open my eyes when he stops, and I catch his fond grin in the mirror.

“You ready for today, love?” he asks softly, taking a half step closer and wrapping his arms around my waist.

I shrug with my good shoulder. “As ready as I think I can be. It’s not going to be a huge thing, is it?”

“It shouldn’t be. If this takes more than twenty minutes, I’ll be surprised,” Rhett replies with a small smile.

I laugh lightly, wincing as my ribs pulse with dull pain. Rhett tries to hide his frown of concern, but I still catch the expression in the mirror. I give a pleading look, and he sighs, kissing my still bare shoulder, but thankfully doesn’t start up again about my pain meds. We’d had a tense discussion after we’d woken up, but I’m not budging on this one. I’ll take the aches and pains over the weird, hazy, dull filter that the drugs put over everything. I’m easily startled on a good day; intentionally lowering my overall awareness of my surroundings was not high on my list of priorities.

Rhett straightens, setting the brush on the edge of the sink and backing up a step. He runs his fingers through my hair, ignoring my attempts to catch his eye in the mirror. We lapse into tense silence, and I try not to let the guilt show on my face. I know he just doesn’t want to see me in pain, but with everything so chaotic, I need to have just one thing in my control. Rhett soundlessly motions for the dryer again, and I hand it over with a silent sigh. I try to let myself enjoy the warm air and his touch, but the nerve snakes rise again.

A sudden knock at the door, loud enough to be heard over the dryer, makes both Rhett and me jump. We make eye contact through the mirror, and Rhett shuts off the dryer.

“Is Mateo coming by for something?” I whisper.

Rhett shakes his head, setting the dryer down gently. There’s another knock at the door, harder this time, with enough force to shake the solid wood slab in its frame. The handle jiggles, but I know it’s locked, along with the deadbolt. We both go still, not sure what to do as whoever is at the door pounds again.

“Lydia, Lydia, little omega, are you in there?”

My blood runs cold at the sound of a male voice as he calls his sing-song taunt through the door. I look at Rhett, his mouth set in a vicious snarl. Flinching, I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle a yelp as there’s a loud slam from the front door, backing away as my heart kicks in my chest.

“Call the police,” Rhett says sharply.

two

Rhett

Lydiastandsfrozenfora heartbeat before she scrambles to find her phone in the pile of clothes on the floor. I open the bathroom door slightly, hiding the hinges’ squeak behind the next series of pounding knocks. As I try to take a step toward the main room, Lydia’s hand shoots out and seizes a fistful of my shirt. I whip back around, swallowing the growl that tries to emerge. My protective instincts are flaring hot, and I want to snap and bark and tell her to hide. But the absolute terror etched into every pore of her beautiful face strikes deep enough to let me gain some semblance of control.

“Don’t leave me,” she hisses, her voice shaking.

“I won’t, little one,” I reply automatically.

A metallic snapping makes my head whip back around to the front door, and I swallow as the handle rotates freely, the lock destroyed. It was a flimsy handle, but there’s still a pulse of fear at the sound. Whoever is out there is determined to get inside, and I can’t let that happen. I dash out and grab the first piece of moveable furniture I can find, a metal folding chair. Lydia whispers frantically to the dispatcher, and I push down the urge to shout or rage, to stand up to this intruder on my omega’s home and nest. Instead, when they start to pound again, I close and latch the bathroom door. I grunt as I jam the folding chair under the handle before stepping back and inspecting my work. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it would at least slow this asshole down.

“The police are almost here,” Lydia whimpers, stepping into my space and clinging to my back.

I purr involuntarily, trying to soothe her fear. The bathroom fills with the scent of burning sugar, and my heart kicks in my chest. Her fear sets off my primal urge to fight, to protect what’s mine. But she needs me here more than I need to be out there. As I turn and slide my arms around Lydia’s shoulders, I realize that the towel she’d had wrapped around her chest has fallen. Leaning over to the door, I find her robe hanging on its hook, getting her to let go of me long enough to work her cast through the oversized sleeve and secure it. She jumps and squeals as a loud slam, followed by splintering wood, comes from the front door, and I swallow the sudden lump in my throat.

There’s a heartbeat of absolute silence, and then the front door hinges squeal like injured animals, followed by the thunk of the door hitting the wall.

“Little omega, come out, come out wherever you are,” the intruder taunts, the sing-song tone raising hairs on the back of my neck.

Lydia whimpers, and her body shakes uncontrollably as she presses against my back. I don’t dare turn or try to put my arm around her. I need my hands free if the worst should happen. Outside the door, the intruder paces, his steps heavy but methodical

“Oh, my, my, my, what a lovely nest you’ve built, little omega. So soft and warm, just like you.”

Lydia sways behind me, and I turn just in time to catch her, gently placing a hand over her mouth to muffle her ragged breathing. Even still, a low, predatory growl from the other side of the door makes my heart hammer. Lydia’s tears are hot as they splash over the back of my hand, and I’m supporting most of her weight as she loses strength in her legs. Three more bootsteps, each louder than the last. A series of short, huffing sniffs.

“Even your fear is sweet, little omega. But who—"

His next words are cut off by the sound of sirens. A low, frustrated growl from outside the door comes before heavy running steps, moving away. There’s the sound of chair legs scraping on the floor, and the crash of the card table flipping. As much as I try to fight it, my muscles quaver, itching to get out there and stop this bastard from violating any more of my omega’s space. The blood rushes in my ears, and my jaw aches from clenching it so hard. Lydia’s good hand digs into my forearm, the bite of her nails piercing my skin hardly even registering over the pounding rage and primal urge for violence coursing through me.

“Everton PD! Freeze!”

The shout is loud enough to carry through walls. Lydia whimpers behind my hand, but more shouting covers her. Multiple voices overlap, and it’s impossible to tell what’s happening. Running steps, multiple sets, moving away from us. Lydia sags, but I don’t lower my guard, not ready to declare it safe until the fucker who tried to hurt my omega is in handcuffs. I shift so I can pull her into my side, minding her injuries. My eyes stay fixed on the bathroom door, my ears straining to hear anything. My heart hammers against my ribs, but I try to focus on Lydia. I need to be calm, or at least appear calm, on the outside. Now that the rage is fading, the fear and worry are taking over.

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