Page 157 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

As they went through the bunk room, Emerson stopped beside his bunk and prepared to say goodnight, but Lyric kept walking with her hand wrapped around his.

He blinked, not that it did any good against the shadows in the room, and followed.

A click, a flash of green, and then soft light sliced into the bunk room as Lyric opened the door to her nest.

Emerson followed, mute as she welcomed him into the most private space for an omega.

Lyric pulled back the covers and sheets, shimmied out of her leggings, and crawled onto the mattress before patting the space beside her.

“Let’s sleep.” Her gaze tracked him up and down. “Do not get in here with those sweats on.”

Emerson snickered, shedding the sweatpants and his shirt for good measure, before joining her in nothing but his boxers.

“Does this mean it’s my turn?” he asked, facing her and studying her profile. As if he hadn’t already memorized every single line and shape of her face.

“For what?”

“I played with your hair, now it’s my turn, right? That’s how these things work.”

Lyric chuckled softly and leaned across the bed, brushing her lips over his. “I’ll play with your hair.”

Emerson wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, burying his head in her neck and drawing in a breath full of her sweet honey scent.

He painted a kiss there before they melted into a comfortable, sleep hazed cuddle. Her fingers brushed through his hair and chills spread from his scalp down his spine.

A purr slipped out, and she paused before a soft chuckle left her.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“Oh, I’m laughing. Big strong alpha brought to a purr by me.”

“Anytime, anywhere,” he promised.

She simply hummed, and Emerson burrowed into her scent, her warmth, and her comfort.

Lyric hummed, nuzzling her head into Emerson’s chest. “You smell like rain. Like you’re washing away my worries.”

That was too soft, but he would take it. He’d be whatever she needed. A rain shower, a thunderstorm, a tornado ripping up the roots of her worries and carrying them far away. Out of sight, out of mind. As long as he was with her.

Good things always came to an end. Emerson knew that, but still, when he awoke the next morning to Lyric hunched over the bed, dread laced through him like a physical blow.

He shifted on the bed, curling around her as she spoke softly into the phone, shoulders shaking. Part of him expected her to push him away, but she didn’t, though she didn’t move at all, and he wasn’t sure if that was any better. He curled his arms around her waist, and she placed a hand on top of his forearm, digging her nails in.

“Are you sure you don’t want me—”

Emerson couldn’t hear the reply through the line, but Lyric’s shoulders stiffened, and he offered her support the only way he knew how—by being close.

“I’m so sorry, Andi. Let me come home—we can cancel the last few—”

Emerson’s heart thundered in his chest. Had something happened to Andi’s mother?

The thought that followed was selfish, and Emerson shook it from his mind before it fully formed. He didn’t want Lyric to go home early.

It would cut their time short.

He laid his forehead against her spine. She was cold to the touch, the chilly air from the outside sneaking its way into her nest.

It felt like he’d won a battle when she leaned back against him.