Page 7 of Omega Forged (Hartlock Omegas #2)

Walden

The leather steering wheel warmed underneath my strangled grip. What a disaster of a dinner and despite everything, I blamed myself.

It wasn’t like I didn’t know my faults. I poured myself into the foundation of this pack, and it still wasn’t enough.

I had a great blueprint. My parent's pack had been married for over thirty years. I wasn’t a naturally warm person, but I had a big heart.

I showed my love by working so hard that my packmates worried about my health.

They didn’t understand why I pushed myself so hard.

But I enjoyed having someone to look after and care for.

Growing up with triplet omega sisters would do that to an alpha. Maybe I didn’t look it, but I wanted to care for everyone around me. It was the reason I started the Baylark Foundation. Caring for an entire city satisfied the need I had to nurture someone.

The alpha in the seat beside me made my chest cave in.

The only romantic connection in our pack was between Pan and me. But could this pack survive the tension between us? Pan found my affection suffocating, and the harder I pushed, the further he drifted away.

What was he thinking? I bit my tongue as I overtook a truck. I could never tell, I needed directness. That’s what I loved about Pan. He saw something he wanted and took it. I wished he could apply some of that energy to our floundering relationship.

Pan stared out the window for the rest of the drive. His bouncing knee was the only sign of guilt. His hands were curled like claws on his lap, and he clenched and unclenched them.

I pulled into our exclusive estate, flipped through my identification for the guard at the gate. He gave me a bright welcome as he waved me through. I shot him a tight smile, not trusting myself to talk. I let out a shuddering breath as our house came into view.

The elegant sprawl of it still took my breath away, like the first time I’d seen it. I swerved through the breezeway and the tires screeched with my impatience. The gentle curve of the house and the manicured bushes were too civilized for the despair that bubbled under my skin.

Ajax and Lloyd scattered from the car and fled into the house. Who could blame them? The night started horribly, and it would end the same way.

Pan slunk around the car, trailing his fingers on the hood.

“My bedroom,” I ordered.

Pan didn’t argue, and I prowled up the white, glossy staircase after him. Every breath steamed my nostrils. I felt pulled apart at the seams, and the manicured house did nothing to contain me.

The top floor had five bedrooms, one for each of us, and a guest bedroom. I hoped it would be perfect for a new packmate. We needed some feminine energy in our pack.

My stomach churned at the thought of someone else seeing the mess I tried so hard to hide. Everything I erased from the media. I passed by the dedicated nest and my jaw clenched. Ajax decorated that room specifically. He thought ahead, and I was grateful for it now.

Would an omega push me to the edge like Pan?

Would I even know how to love without the bite of thorns?

Pan left my bedroom door open, and each step I took was heavy.

I slept here when my insomnia loosened its grip.

There were high ceilings and large windows, like all the bedrooms. There was a small seating area by the window, with leather armchairs.

I imagined morning coffees, watching the sunrise.

Perhaps with Pan still sleep mussed, on my lap.

But he never stayed in my bed overnight, and I couldn’t bring myself to sit there alone.

Pan perched on my charcoal duvet. There was a slight bulge in his jeans, and the sight dismayed and excited me. His scent bubbled brightly even as he tore me apart.

How many times had we been in this exact place?

I couldn’t remember the last time we came together for love rather than anger. My chest ached, and I fought past the hollowness. Rage was easier to cling to, and made me feel like I was alive, rather than rotting to a slow death.

What Pan and I had was twisted beyond repair. I knew that. But I couldn’t let go, and neither could he. We were twin hooks in each other’s hearts. We hurt each other, over and over.

“Daddy?”

Pan’s lips kicked up. This was what he wanted. He liked to unravel and provoke me into passion.

To make the methodical Walden Baylark lose his famous cool.

The first time I met Pan, I’d fallen half in love with him.

Ajax and I became friends in college, and I heard so many stories about his musical genius brother. But nothing could have prepared me for Pan Mythos.

His allure was magnetic. It had darkened and twisted over the years. His music became tormented until he stopped playing altogether. Tattoos covered his long pianist fingers.

Pan was a treasure you found in the shadows. Brooding intensity. Startling genius. His muscles were always coiled in readiness to fight. Pan made love dangerous. He made it hurt. Gods, it hurt to fight for him, and my energy flagged.

“You have a look on your face.” Pan scratched his stomach.

His shirt rode up to flash his defined abs. My nostrils flared with a hot exhale. He did it thinking the skin would scramble the sharp words that waited to roll off my tongue. My tongue twisted with righteous anger and my throat burned with sharp hurt.

“Don’t tease,” I growled. “Tonight was important. Don’t even think about being late for our meeting tomorrow.”

I’d poured myself into the One-Hundred-Year-Celebration-Gala.

It was a showcase of Esta Hartlock, and her contribution to the law being passed.

Tully Hartlock flashed into my mind for a brief, dizzying second.

I hadn’t seen her since her parents’ funeral.

Her numbness gave way to anger when she’d seen me and I felt the echo of it.

How bizarre. I hoped she’d found happiness away from the public eye. It grated on me to be in it.

“What meeting?” Pan arched a lazy eyebrow.

“With the mayor. He wants to discuss his speech.”

“Scope out his competition, you mean?”

A jolt of heat jammed my spine straight.

“It’s not a joke, Pan.” I was preparing to run against our current mayor, and the thought made my stomach clench. It was the right thing to do, the next step. But I wish I could say I was excited about it.

“Gods, Walden, can you relax? We’re throwing a party, not saving the world.” Pan’s lip curl flipped a switch inside me.

How could I look to the future when I was drowning in the present?

“And what was tonight?”

“Don’t be mad at me, daddy,” he protested, with a husky voice and heavy-lidded eyes.

He was trying all his tricks to distract me.

The worst thing was, it worked, to an extent.

My lower belly flooded with warmth until he leaned closer.

The reek of alcohol wafted over to me. Pan blinked, his dark eyeliner smudged under his eyes.

His hazel gaze was murky with fatigue. He’d been out all last night. When had he even slept?

This was what it was like between us. Pan pushing, me pulling.

Volatile explosions, as neither of us got what we wanted. I clamped my tongue between my teeth, determined to hold my temper. It was a nearly impossible task. Pan’s grape bubblegum scent turned sharp, and he scuffed the carpet with his boot. Pan was meek and quiet, a small mercy.

“This was important for our pack,” I said.

Pan stared out the window where dark clouds had rolled over the chilled stars. The bedroom was too hot, and I tugged at my collar.

“Everything is important to you, except me,” he muttered.

I gaped as pain carved a hole in my stomach. How could he say that? When I put everything I cared about on the line for my love of him. My reputation, my legacy. It all suffered, and he didn’t care about showing me the same respect.

“I know you went to The Barracks. Why?” I asked gruffly.

He described how his cravings felt. Like a dark monster squatted on his chest, demanding more.

There was something twisted inside that made him so selfish.

Because what else could I call it? Pan didn’t care how his actions affected me or the pack.

He traipsed off into hovels with his shady friends and neglected the pack that cared about his well-being. Not just him getting drunk and high.

“I didn’t go there on purpose. I met up with CJ.”

“Of course.”

My lips curled. He knew how I felt about his friend CJ. He brought out the worst in Pan. Together, they indulged their vices to the detriment of everyone around them.

Pan looked at the ceiling. “We had dinner at Mad Hatter downtown, met up with some more friends at Stoney. After that, we ended up at a hole in the wall at The Barracks. Only a few drinks, nothing else.” He tossed his hands up as I shot him a disbelieving look. “Maybe I drank too much.”

Bile scorched my throat at the lackadaisical shrug of his shoulders, and the challenge that lingered in his dark gaze. My ribs were being pried apart, and I bled inside at the easy way Pan discarded his promises.

“You said you wouldn’t…” I whispered, and my bedroom blurred.

Pan shook his head. “No, I said I would give up spirits, and I didn’t touch a drop last night. I only drank beer.”

“What about the shots tonight?” I snapped before I bit the side of my mouth. Tasted iron and let it collar me like a shackle. My pulse throbbed hot and hard like a drumbeat, and I knew nothing I said would make a difference.

Pan tossed his hands up. “I lost my temper. You should have tossed her out the minute she walked in late.”

“Like you?” My shout tore up my throat. “You didn’t give a fuck about keeping your promises, or respecting your pack. Do you even care at all? Or is this just you making sure I’m pleased so you can go back to doing whatever you want?”

Pan flinched and slid off the bed, onto his knees. My nostrils flared as his bubblegum scent turned thick.