Page 193 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

A similar spark was flickering in his eyes, and Lyric swallowed. A slow warmth that had been burning beneath her skin all evening, disguised as giddiness and dizziness, suddenly burst.

Her eyes widened with understanding.

“You’re in heat,” Henry said. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

He grabbed her hand, led her from the stage. Emerson walked at her right, and in the second it took her to turn her head, Adra appeared to blanket her left. Nohen and Javi followed behind, and the exit beckoned them.

She’d been mistaken.

It wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

Her entire body was burning up. She couldn’t contain it, couldn’t stop it. Her alphas and beta curled around her like a protective bubble as they rushed through the venue toward the safety of the bus. Desi stayed behind to handle wrapping up anything tour related.

“Take care of her,” Desi called out from the venue doors.

Lyric didn’t even hear the rest of her pack’s response.

She needed to feel them around her, needed to be surrounded by their scents.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she hissed. Lyric couldn’t believe her heat had arrived early.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured as they filed onto the bus. This was all her fault.

Henry still had a hold of her hand, and he pulled her to a stop in the open bunk room.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked.

“For going off my suppressants. It wasn’t supposed to come this early. I’m sorry.”

Henry’s brows dipped, and a quiet fury lit his eyes before he snuffed out the flames. “You’re not to blame for anything, and I don’t want to hear another word like that out of your mouth. Heats are natural, and I’m glad we’re here to help you through it, as long as that’s what you want?”

Lyric parted her lips to answer, but the first of many waves of need washed over her and she dropped Henry’s hand so she didn’t leave marks.

A haze clouded her vision, her senses, and through it all she heard Henry murmur some orders to the others, and distantly, the bus door opening and closing a few times.

Lyric whined. She didn’t want her pack to leave, she wanted all of them with her. All of them.

“Others?” she asked once the wave had receded. “Tell them to come back.”

“They’re coming. They just had to get some things first. They’ll be right back.”

Lyric studied Henry, trusted that he wouldn’t lie, and threw herself at him. Arms wrapping around her, he caught her effortlessly and eased her down to the mattresses.

He settled between her legs, and even the slightest pressure near her core made her entire body clench, so she pulled him closer, nipped at his lips in a silent plea.

“Okay, okay,” he soothed and petted her hair back from her face. “I’ll make you feel better.”

Lyric was thankful to Henry for his help, but she couldn’t handle a gentle touch just then, she was too full of a fiery need that burned too hot. “Touch me, Henry,” she demanded, and wiggled out of her stage pants. Damned things had zippers on the sides, and she’d never been more annoyed to be right-handed in her life.

Henry took over, the hiss of the zipper seeming so loud in the room, next to her own pounding heart and rushing breath.

She kicked them off her legs, but it was Henry who took the time to unlace her boots and pull them off her feet. As the cool air licked at her skin, she whimpered, scissored her legs, or what she could of them since they were still trapped in her pants.

Finally, Henry freed her, and she leaned up, wrapped her hands around his neck, and pulled him down to her. Even his warmth felt good, even though her skin was growing more sensitive by the second. She didn’t like his clothes, didn’t like her own shirt.

But she couldn’t care about that right then. All she could think about was the kindling spark, the burning need in her skin that could only be eased one way.

“Henry,” she cried against his lips.