Page 46 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

She doesn’t have a pack, so where did you expect her to stay?

“Hey, you found me,” she said softly. She stepped back and waved her arm for them to enter.

They took two steps inside the door, and Emerson shut it behind him… encasing them in a shoe-sized box. Pressing his back against the front door, he tried to make room for Odd and Lyric in the space.

“Security entrance,” she explained, and entered a code. Emerson lost track of the clicks before another shrill alarm beep echoed in the tiny room and the main door opened. He avoided knocking into the entrance table as he exited the tiny room, but as he stepped into the main room, he had a whole other problem.

It smelled like her.

In practice, he scented the vanilla from her soap and shampoo and it was… nice. But in her home? So much more of her came through instead of the artificial soap.

His mouth watered as he inhaled a sweeter, gentler scent—lavender and honey.

Or maybe honeysuckle.

Or maybe he just really wanted to suckle her honey.

Her gaze shot sharply to his at the same time Odd knocked an elbow into his side. Hard.

He coughed as the elbow jarred him in the diaphragm, choking off the sound vibrating his throat.

“So, this is it,” she said slowly, eyebrow raised in question, and motioned to the rest of the place.

The question was most likely what the fuck is your problem?

Emerson took in a shallow breath through his mouth, trying to block out her scent, and focused on her… home?

It was smaller than he imagined from the outside. But still a fuck of a lot nicer than what he and Odd rented.

The door they came through opened into one large room, split in half. The living room on the left, and the kitchen complete with a granite counter island on the right. New appliances. Shiny hardwood floors.

“Bathroom is straight ahead if needed. Watch the steps. Don’t go upstairs,” she warned as she busied herself in the kitchen.

Odd, being the perfect damned gentleman, followed her into the kitchen and offered to help before she shooed him to the counter.

Emerson wanted to snoop.

But he was afraid if he drifted closer to the back of her home, closer to the stairs and by default her bedroom, that her scent would be even stronger.

Maybe Odd had the right idea.

Emerson trailed behind them into the kitchen, and a brief moment of relief was offered as the scent of warm, tangy spices thickened the air.

“Have trouble finding it?” Lyric questioned as she lifted the lid of something on the stove.

Spices exploded on the air, muting her scent even more, and while her back was turned, Emerson shifted in place, adjusting himself before his problem became a problem.

Odd shot him a glare.

“Not at all. GPS led us right here. What are we having?”

“Yeah, it smells nice,” Emerson added.

Beside him, Odd’s eye twitched.

“It’s a recipe I found online. I wanted something easy, no offense,” she answered over her shoulder. “I figured you guys could eat a lot, and I didn’t feel like searing ten pounds of meat and vegetables. And this soup sounded delicious when I read the ingredients.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Odd murmured.