The tension in her shoulders tells me that she’s not sure I’m right. It lands like a fucking dagger.
The realization hits me a second later. I don’t get to be happy with Lark if Lark isn’t happy. And Lark won’t be happy until Saint gets his head out of his ass and joins the pack in loving her completely.
I meet her eyes. “I’ll make sure he does.” My voice is calm, but the promise behind it is solid as stone.
“I’m not letting him miss out on this.” I mean it. This pack means everything to me. Lark. Graham. Even Saint, stubborn bastard that he is.
Her gaze softens just a little.
I jerk my chin toward the bar. “Another round?”
By the time I get back to our lane, the place is even louder than before. A band is tuning instruments in the corner. It battles with the songs playing through the speakers. People are cheering loudly at a birthday party a few lanes over.
I’ve got our beer and hard cider in one hand, and a bowl of bar mix in the other. Then I see him. An alpha standing too damn close to my omega. He’s leaning toward her. One hand braced on the table. Lark has her palm flat against his chest, holding him back.
She’s not panicking. Just managing him.
I would laugh, except for the fact that she’s my omega and he is too fucking close.
I set the bowl down slowly on the table. The guy’s scent is strong. My alpha doesn’t like that.
“Is there a problem here?” My voice comes out calm. Inside my alpha is tearing at his restraints.
The guy glances over his shoulder at me. His eyes flick down once, taking in my size, the bottles in my hand, the way I’m standing. He smirks anyway. Dumb motherfucker.
“No problem,” he says. “Just asking if this little omega needs some pointers.”
My grip tightens around the bottle. I step forward and hand Lark her cider without looking away from him. “I’ve got it covered.”
The guy hesitates. Just for a second. But I see it. There’s a moment where he thinks about pushing it.
I reach out and pull Lark against me, my arm wrapping around her waist automatically. Then I let my alpha step forward. The growl that rolls up my chest is low and deep. It fills the space between us.
Dominance spills off me. The other alpha feels it immediately.
His smirk disappears. “Relax, dude,” he says, lifting his hands a little. “Didn’t realize she was claimed.”
I don’t answer. The rumble in my chest deepens instead.
The guy takes a step back. “Alright,” he mutters. “Chill bro.” He disappears into the crowd.
My shoulders stay tight. My alpha is pacing just under my skin, furious and possessive and way too close to the surface.
Mine.
The word repeats in my head like a drumbeat.
I force out a breath.
“Silas,” Lark says softly.
I look down at her. “We need to go,” I tell her.
My voice is rougher now. “My alpha’s going a little insane.”
Instead of pulling away, she slides closer. “It’s okay, mountain man,” she murmurs. She leans forward, lips grazing mine. “I like your alpha.”
The words settle something wild inside me. Not completely. Not by a long shot. But enough to dull the edges.
