Page 52 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

Em tugged on his shirt, and Adra let him pull it over his head to avoid the mess… and then he used it to wipe his hand off.

Rolling his eyes, Adra dug his nails into his ass, chuckling when Em jerked in his hold and shoved him lightly.

Their gazes clashed and understanding washed over them like a cold shower.

“We really are fucked,” Emerson murmured.

“Yeah. We are.”

They were a pair of packless alphas with a crush on an independent omega.

What a terrible concoction.

“Oh, sugar,” Adra muttered as he stepped foot on the bus two days later. Two days of practice had passed. Two days of fighting off awkwardness and flushes, imagining Lyric would glance at them and just know what had happened. Would uncover their secrets and sins.

But she hadn’t, and now, with bags in tow, Adra was standing in his new home for the next six weeks.

The very tiny home.

Small for them, at least. He shared a knowing glance with Emerson and gulped.

Two couches, one three seats long and running into a cabinet, the other with five seats, faced each other, and left a wide walkway in the middle, which led to a closed door. Behind that probably housed the shower, the bunks, and Lyric’s nest in the very back.

Five people were going to share this space.

A chuckle tinged with panic trickled out of his throat.

It seemed their fantasy of Lyric accidentally discovering them as they worked out their frustrations just became a whole lot more like reality.

Adra thought that was the worst that could happen—for all of them—until a deep voice sounded behind them.

“Let me guess, Adra and Emerson, right?”

Adra turned to meet the sound, and came face-to-face with a tall, dark haired, gray-eyed alpha.

“That’s us,” he said slowly. “And you are?”

He stretched out a hand, the leather jacket he wore slipping up his wrist to show off his tattoos. “I’m Henry, the tour manager.”

Lyric pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, her other hand holding the phone to her ear.

“He’s on our bus?” Lyric’s shrill voice cut through the cozy den of her nest in the bus.

“Well, Andi was supposed to be on the bus. I don’t see why this would be any different,” the agent argued on the line. As soon as Lyric had seen the paper taped outside their bus door, she’d yanked it down and instantly pulled out her phone to call a label rep.

Lyric sucked in a sharp breath and released it slowly, willing her irritation to leave her body.

“Andi was not only a close friend, but she was a beta.” Safe, she wanted to add.

“Henry is safe as well. Previously employed by the omega center, he passed multiple—”

“Previously? Why doesn’t he work there anymore?” she asked, anxiety squeezing her chest like the too tight clothes her mother used to force her into.

A long sigh came over the phone. “Ms. Ceran, I’m only going over this as a courtesy, but know it was a courtesy to let your previous manager choose the current, and we don’t plan to extend much more. But since I understand your worries, just know he’s been vetted by the very best and his record is completely spotless. He simply wanted a change of scenery, and his cousin had the connections to get him into tour managing. He’s now been circling tours for two years. He’s professional.”

Lyric chewed on her lip, plucking at the fabric of her loose dress and billowing it out to counteract the heat flushing through her.

“The label trusts him enough to put the top contender for best up-and-coming artist into his hands? An omega?”