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Track 15 Heartlines

I'm not sure this is going to work.

Sorrel being a part of our pack. I never would have thought she would react like that, terrified of people outside of the car, not wanting to have her picture taken. The overwhelming urge I had to protect her, to make her feel safe and comfortable, was all alpha. Part of me is already viewing her as pack, and the thought of her being scared was—is—intolerable.

But the reality is this is part of our life. The crowds, the people, the paparazzi, the inappropriate questions. All of that comes with the territory of being a Cordova pack member. If she can't handle a few dozen fans and photographers, how is she going to handle walking the red carpet with Liam or being backstage at one of his concerts? How will she handle just going out with us as a pack?

The last thing I want is for her to be uncomfortable, even if that means she's ours.

"Maybe she'll get used to it," Rafe says, eyes focused on Sorrel and Liam as he guides her up the stairs to the room that will be hers while she stays with us. She'd hardly even looked at the penthouse, taking it in with wide eyes and a silent mouth, before asking if there was somewhere she could freshen up.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye and sigh. "Maybe, but she was scared, Rafe. I don't want her to spend her life scared."

He hums. "I don't either." With a grunt, he kicks off his shoes and slumps down on the couch. "Does it make me a bad person if I say her reaction made me like her more? Made me surer of her?"

Wearily, I run a hand down my face. "I know. I felt the same." Everyone we've ever dated has thrived on attention to some extent. Some more than others for sure, but most of them… Well, they freaking loved it. They'd beam at the cameras while clutching my or Liam's arm, play up how close we are to the cameras and the people watching.

That Sorrel didn't want her face photographed, that she shrank away from the people outside the car, makes me feel even more sure that she's not working some kind of angle with us. She wants us for us, not for the fame or the fortune, just us.

It's a fucking intoxicating feeling.

"Maybe she's just an extremely good actress." Joey's voice cuts through the hit of euphoria I was feeling. I should be grateful. I know it's dangerous to trust someone so readily as we're trusting Sorrel, and it's good that someone wants to remind us of that. But it takes a lot of fucking will power not to snap at him. "Don't you think that was a bit… overdramatic?"

I look at Rafe again, both of us trying to gauge the other's reaction. It was certainly more than I thought it would be. But… "I could scent her, she was legitimately scared." Adjusting scent to reflect emotions isn't something that can be faked. Betas have a lighter scent and they don't rely on it as heavily as alphas and omegas to find compatible partners, but they still betray their emotions through them.

Joey just stares at me for a moment. I can tell there's more he wants to say, but he's been against us spending time with Sorrel from the beginning. Probably because Liam sent a text before he and Rafe were even back from Lake Kilrose the first time, demanding that we buy a house on the lake and that money didn't matter.

He's not wrong. Money doesn't matter, and the house Joey found for us is gorgeous. But it's certainly the first time real estate has factored into one of our relationships. Not to mention my single-minded intent to rid Sorrel of the Stillwell pack.

He's probably worried we're all jumping in too fast.

Hell, I'm worried about it too.

But everything inside me is telling me we can trust Sorrel. She's not like the others.

She's ours.

I want it to be true so badly.

I want to find that missing piece of our pack, the one that will give Liam the family he's always wanted. The one I've always wanted too, if I'm being one hundred percent honest.

"Right," the beta says, drawing out the word in a way that lets me know he thinks we're being idiots. Little prick. I've never really liked him. He's far too familiar with my omega, and I get the sense that he's angling for something more permanent most of the time than his position as an assistant. But we've talked about this already. He knows it's never going to happen. When you know, you know. And my pack knows that Joey, while invaluable professionally, will never have a personal relationship with us.

Ever.

But maybe that's why he's so distrusting of Sorrel.

"Well, I'll be off then." He holds up his ever present tablet and then his phone. "You can reach me if you need me."

I nod and turn my back as he leaves the penthouse; the elevator dings then whirs, letting me know when he's gone.

Liam comes down the stairs looking somewhat dejected, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, head hanging low, making his hair flop over onto his forehead.

"She's not going to stay," he says. Whispers, really.

"What?" The word comes out harsher than I intended, but the idea of her leaving right now makes me feel a little unhinged.

Rafe glares at me as Liam's head shoots up to look at me with stunned, wide eyes. I clear my throat and try again, more gently. "Sorry, what? Did she say she wants to leave?"

Liam's shoulders lump again, and he runs a hand down his face. "No. She didn't say it, but she's… not happy to be here." He kicks his foot at nothing, a pout on his full lips. "Gage was right. She hates the city. It was a dumb idea to bring her here."

"Come here, mi amor ." Rafe holds a hand out and Liam stomps over to him, letting him bundle our omega onto his lap. "It's an adjustment, yeah? Sorrel is from a small town and from what I can tell, she's not very well liked among the people there."

"Idiots," Liam mutters. I agree wholeheartedly.

"Indeed," Rafe acknowledges. "She's not used to being the center of attention." Liam relaxes against him the more he talks. "You know she doesn't want recognition. If she did, her face would be all over her videos."

Liam nods, a soft smile curling his lips. "Yeah. It's such a pretty face, too."

"It is," I agree, heading to the kitchen and opening the fridge, letting out a breath when I see our chef left a few prepared meals for us. "She could be a star in her own right if she wanted."

"She could," he says happily. "But she doesn't want it." His brows pinch together. "What if this is too much for her?"

"It's not." We all whip our head toward the stairs, where Sorrel is standing, hands clenched in front of her, that fake smile I'm growing to hate on her face. "I swear it's not." She takes a step forward. "I know you said I didn't have to apologize, but I am sorry. Like I said, I just wasn't prepared. I'll be able to handle it better next time."

I shrug and swing the door of the fridge closed. "You don't have to. We can happily keep you out of the public eye. No need to force you into the limelight."

Her smile slips the tiniest bit, but then it's back. "Oh, so you…" she hesitates and licks her lips, then continues. "I thought you had activities planned… outings and things? Do you not want to do them anymore?"

Liam scrambles off of Rafe's lap and is standing in front of her before I even have the chance to move. "No, no, of course, we still want to do them with you. I want to take you on dates and show you the city from the Cordova pack perspective. But if it makes you uncomfortable, we can stay in and watch movies and eat too much junk food. I can play you my newest songs and we can collaborate!"

"Collaborate?" Her brow furrows as Liam drapes his arm over her shoulders. "I'm not a songwriter, Liam."

"Sure you aren't," he winks at her, and her face flushes.

I wonder why she's so resistant to tell us about her music. We all know she does it. Why won't she just admit it?

"Why don't we stay in tonight?" Rafe suggests from where he's stretched out on the couch, legs crossed at the ankles. "We can have a quiet dinner here, snuggle on the couch, watch movies like Liam suggested. And if you feel up to it, we can go to dinner tomorrow."

Sorrel blows out a relieved breath and nods, her smile turning more genuine than what she had been wearing. "That sounds good. Thank you, Rafe."

"Anything for you, conejita ," he says easily, spreading his arms wide. "Now come here so I can cuddle you. These two had you for the entire ride back. It's my turn now."

Sorrel laughs as she climbs on top of him, stretching out and nestling her head against his neck as his arms close around her.

I think it might be just about the sweetest sound I've ever heard.

We spend the next few days with Sorrel mostly in the penthouse. We cuddle up on the couch and watch movies. She wasn't up for a full fledged fancy dinner her second night in the city, so we pushed back the reservation a few days.

Occasionally Sorrel is comfortable with us taking her out, small jaunts into the city to a coffee shop or, strangely enough, to the grocery store to pick up some items for a dinner Sorrel wanted to make for us. We try to take her shopping but she seems so disinterested in new clothes or luxury items that we eventually stop taking her to boutiques. Doesn't stop us from buying her things.

Probably her favorite thing we did was take her to an upscale old timey ice cream parlor that sells a sundae that costs a thousand dollars. Not that we told her the price when we ordered it, instead we just watched her dig into the edible gold leaf covered dessert and listened to her moans of pleasure. Well, we did until a gaggle of women approached the table and asked Liam for an autograph.

At each location, each outing people recognize us and each time, Sorrel ducks her head, or buries her face in one of our chests to avoid being photographed.

I had hoped she'd get used to the attention, but it doesn't seem like she is.

She hasn't even fully adjusted to us having staff that takes care of the penthouse for us, messes swept away, food appearing out of thin air. Every time it happens she seems surprised. Telling her she'll get used to being taken care of doesn't really seem to help.

On more than one occasion I've found her tucked up in her bedroom, scribbling furiously in a battered spiral notebook. Only for her to shove it out of sight as soon as she knows she's being watched. I'm dying to know what she's been writing, but whether it's a journal of a song book, I would never read it without her permission.

Liam and Sorrel spend an entire day in the recording studio. Rafe and I check on them frequently, only to find Liam strumming a guitar, singing and then asking Sorrel what she thinks. It's never her playing or singing or writing.

That doesn't mean it's not happening, but we certainly don't see it.

It's to the point where I wonder if maybe Liam got it wrong and she's not the person he was looking for up in Lake Kilrose. Surely if she was, she wouldn't be able to resist the state-of-the-art studio and collaborating with Liam Cordova.

But then, after Rafe has given them a warning that we have to leave for dinner in an hour, Liam comes out humming happily, eyes glowing. "It's her," he states, doing a little dance that is adorable. "It's her. She sang for me, Gray, harmonized with me and it was fucking perfection. Just like I knew it would be. This next album is going to be the best-selling yet with her on it. I can already tell."

I kiss the smile on his mouth. "Good. I'm happy for you, sweetheart…"

"But."

"But are you sure she wants to be on your album?" I pull back to look down at him as I say the words. "She doesn't like the spotlight, baby."

His brow furrows. "I know that. But it'll get easier for her, won't it? Once she's with us, really with us, it'll be easier for her to be around all those people. To know that we'll keep her safe."

I cup his face and say gently, "I don't think it's a matter of her feeling unsafe, Liam. I think she doesn't like the attention."

"Then I'll quit." He says it so simply and so quickly that I know he's been thinking about this for a while. How long, though? Since seeing her reaction to the crowd around our building? Since he first met Sorrel? Longer?

"Just like that?"

He shrugs and doesn't meet my eyes. "If that's what it takes."

"I don't think she'd ask you to do that."

He gives a soft laugh and shakes his head. "No. No, she definitely wouldn't. It's her mission to make sure everyone else has everything they need, even to the detriment of her own comfort. Lovely, sweet girl. I love my career. I love my fans. But I love my pack more. I think I-" he cuts the words off, shakes his head again. "Well, anyway, I'd happily give it up if it means giving her what she needs."

I could say that I don't think him quitting his profession would stop our pack from being in the spotlight, if anything, I suspect the media shitstorm that would cause would be… more than detrimental to Sorrel's wellbeing, but I'm so struck by how easily he's willing to do that for a girl we hardly know.

Of course, saying the words and following through with them are two very different things.

I'm not sure I can even imagine who Liam would be if he wasn't an entertainer. Would he still be Liam? Would he still be my omega?

Of course he would be , I tell myself. He just wouldn't be everyone else's omega as well.

And that is very fucking appealing to me. To have Liam all to myself… or I guess all to our pack. To no longer need to share him with the world.

But would he be happy?

That is the question.

He'd probably be okay for a while, but eventually he'd resent Sorrel. And I don't want that either.

"Let's see how dinner goes," I suggest. "It should be pretty quiet. We'll sneak in through the back and our booth will be private."

Liam nods. "Maybe if we can show her we can protect her privacy, she'll want to be with us." He pops up on his toes and pecks my mouth. "I'm gonna go get ready."

Forty-five minutes later, Sorrel is standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking as pretty as ever. Her hair is sleek and smooth, like she straightened it, and twisted into a complicated updo at the back of her head, that involves braids and buns. She's wearing a teal colored sundress with little pink and white flowers on it. Not one we bought her, I can tell from the fabric, but she looks so damn pretty, it doesn't matter. Even if I prefer her hair in its normal wild waves hanging down her back.

She's taken her time with her make-up, lining her aqua eyes in black, gold shimmer over her lids and her lips are a nude pink and glossy. She stands there for a moment, fingers fidgeting together in front of her, shifting uncomfortably.

"Is this okay?" The uncertainty in her voice breaks me out of my trance.

I take three big steps toward her until I can touch her. I want to kiss her, but I don't want to mess up the perfect outline of her mouth. Not yet at least, later will be a different matter.

Instead, I cup her neck, my thumb pressing into her chin to keep her head tilted up, meeting my eyes so she can see I mean it when I say, "you're beautiful, sweet thing. Fucking perfect."

A shuddering breath falls from her lips and goose pimples pop up all over her skin. Her nipples pucker, pressing against the thin fabric of her dress. "You're sure? I can change into one of the dresses you guys bought me. If this isn't… fancy enough."

"No," I say firmly. "This is perfect." A small smile is my reward. I know she didn't pack any of the clothes we picked out for her, but the closet in her room upstairs is full of items that we thought would look phenomenal on her. Liam had far too much fun adding things to the cart, and I'm pretty sure between what's here and what's at her house, Sorrel has enough outfits for three months, where she wouldn't have to wear the same thing twice.

Still she presses, "Are you sure? You're wearing a suit."

I shrug and bend to kiss the tip of her nose. "I'm always wearing a suit, sweet thing."

"That's true."

She glances over her shoulder as Liam and Rafe come down the stairs. Both of them are in slacks and jackets—charcoal gray for Rafe, navy blue for Liam—and a furrow appears between her brows.

"I'm changing," she mutters, twisting away from me, but I catch her elbow and tug her back until she's leaning against my chest. I wrap an arm around her shoulders, resting my chin on the top of her silky hair.

"No, you're not. You look divine in this dress."

She huffs as my pack mates approach us, stalking forward like predators sighting prey. "I don't look as good as you do, though."

"Sorrel, conejita ," Rafe purrs. "You look fucking edible. I can't wait for dessert."

Liam kisses her cheek, apparently also not wanting to mess up her lipstick, like me. "In case you missed his meaning there, lovely, he means you. We're going to eat you for dessert."

"Really?" she breathes.

"Mmhmm." I kiss the curve of her neck, nip it with my teeth, loving the way it makes her gasp. "I think the three of us will take turns, hmm? Licking every inch of you."

The scent of Sorrel's arousal blooms in the air, a sweet lavender cloud that has my body responding. My cock grows heavy between my legs and I can't resist grinding against the round curve of her ass. Fuck, she feels so fucking good.

"That-That sounds good." She leans more of her weight against me, tilting her head beautifully to give me better access to her throat.

"Fuck," Liam groans, bending down to kiss her mouth quickly. "We need to leave now, or we'll never make it to dinner."

"Is that a bad thing?" Our girl asks, leaning forward to take my omega's mouth in a lengthier kiss.

Liam seems to waffle, weighing the pros and cons of staying here, and then he huffs. "We're going. The entire point of having you come to Granton with us is so we can take you on dates, show you the city."

Get you used to being seen with us in public. He doesn't say that part, but all of us think it.

Sorrel's languid pose evaporates as she straightens away from me, putting distance between our bodies as she nods and runs her hands down the front of her dress. "Right. Of course. We should go." Her hands fist in her skirts, and I wonder if she thinks she's hiding that they're shaking from us.

I hate to see her so nervous, but Liam's right. We need to do this, expose her to what our life is actually like, then she can make an educated decision on whether she wants to pursue a relationship with us or not.

Though I'm starting to think if she decides a life in the spotlight is not what she wants, we'll all be more than willing to make concessions for her.

My omega laces his fingers through her trembling ones, squeezing gently before he leads her over to the elevator. Rafe and I exchange a look, a conversation passing between us with only our eyes and our bond. We're going to do whatever it takes to make her feel safe with us, to make her feel comfortable being with us.

She's ours. We're hers. We just need to prove it to her.

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