Page 1 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

A shattered moan scraped its way out of Lyric’s throat to echo around the empty, plush room. She scissored her legs together beneath the thin sheet of cotton, but even that was too much, and she tossed it aside. The cool air in the room was a balm against her heated skin, damp with sweat and far too sensitive to be comfortable.

Even with the mix of pain meds and suppressants, her heats were always like taking a vacation to hell. She had to wonder if the pain meds even helped at all.

Care for a dip in the lava bath, madam? I’ve brought you a towel made of sandpaper to dry your skin.

She snorted at the British voice in her head, and then groaned as she curled herself into the fetal position.

Okay, so maybe the pain meds were helping, but only a little.

But no matter how advanced science was becoming, no one had figured out how to keep her body from aching. How to avoid the unbearable pain she marked on her calendar every three months.

Like clockwork, she was registered useless four to eight weeks out of the year, every year.

Ah, the joys of being an omega.

She snarled against the cramp in her gut, the squeeze of her core around nothing as she ached for something, anything to fill the void.

It had to end soon, right? How long had she been stuck in this same room, in this same bed, counting down the hours and swallowing sips of water with every dosage her phone’s alarm reminded her to take?

She always lost track soon after the first few hours, dozing in out of a tense sleep as she anticipated the first wave of pain.

But surely—hopefully—it would be over soon.

She got her wish, but only after several more hours of twisting and turning, drenched in pain and sweat before she washed up on the shore of sanity.

Kind of. When she blinked her eyes open, moonlight was streaming in through her nest windows, and her vision wavered slightly. She felt fuzzy around the edges, a little lightheaded.

Moving slowly, she sat up and slid to the edge of the bed, every muscle in her body protesting after spending—she glanced at her phone, wincing at the light—a week and five days tense and riddled with pain.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

A lady wouldn’t speak in that way, her mother’s voice echoed in her mind.

“Fuck,” she repeated, just to spite the ghost in her memory.

She groaned as she put her weight on her feet, the muscles in her thighs and legs screaming. Her steps were unsteady as she crossed five feet to the bathroom, stumbling over pillows she’d tossed out of the way in her feverish state. The doorway was blissfully close to her own bed. Her hair fell into her face, the long strands tangled and scraping against her skin. She would have bundled them up in a bun, but it made her scalp too sore during the heats.

Towels littered the floor from where she’d attempted ice-cold baths to calm the heat, and she stepped over them, bracing her palm on the chilly sink counter.

Avoiding the mirror completely, she reached in and cranked the water on to rain from the showerhead on the gentlest setting.

It was barely stronger than mist, but as she stepped inside and it began to bead on her skin, she sighed.

She kept it lukewarm as she washed sweat from her skin and need from between her thighs.

By the time she stepped out, smelling of her favorite wash instead of the chemical tinged sweat from her suppressants, she felt almost human again. The muted vanilla complimented her own lavender and honey scent, and she sighed.

At least until she looked in the mirror.

Her lips turned down in a frown as she studied the bags under her eyes and her pallid skin.

She was still stiff as she tied her hair up in a loose, wet bun, dried off, and threw on her biggest, comfiest sweatshirt.

Her steps were near silent as she grabbed her phone and trailed into the open main area, split in three between living room, kitchen, and dining room.

As she swiped through her contacts, she selected a number from the top of her favorites list and unlocked the three deadbolts into the entryway. Two boxes and a tote of groceries were waiting inside the tiny room, and she sighed just as her stomach rumbled.

“How was it?” the female voice on the line asked.