Lyric & the Heartbeats Read online

  Lyric & the Heartbeats

  Lana Kole

  Copyright @ 2021 Lana Kole

  Lyric & the Heartbeats

  First publication: January 22, 2021

  Editing by Jess Rousseau

  Formatting by Kathryn Moon

  Cover by Kellie Arts

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  * * *

  Published by Lana Kole

  [email protected]

  www.lanakoleauthor.com

  Created with Vellum

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This is a Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance and is not suited for those under the age of 18.

  Created with Vellum

  In the words of Desiree:

  “AWOOGA!!”

  Contents

  A Note on this Omegaverse

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  Also By Lana Kole

  About the Author

  A Note on this Omegaverse

  There are no shifters in this book.

  Aside from the unusual human biology, this Omegaverse is not a paranormal romance. These alphas, betas, and omegas are not shifters. This is an alternate universe to ours, with an alternate human biology that includes animalistic traits adapted to a romance premise. There are fancy penises, mating instincts, pheromones, and bonding marks, as well as a slight hierarchal social construct. Alphas are considered powerful and prone to leadership and they form family packs, omegas as the precious and sexual glue that holds those packs together, and betas are the average and normal.

  The Sweetverse especially enjoys exploring people who don’t perfectly match or choose to fight those natures, so don’t be surprised to find alphas, betas, and omegas breaking their usual molds.

  A shattered moan scraped its way out of Lyric’s throat to echo around the empty, plush room. She scissored her legs together beneath the thin sheet of cotton, but even that was too much, and she tossed it aside. The cool air in the room was a balm against her heated skin, damp with sweat and far too sensitive to be comfortable.

  Even with the mix of pain meds and suppressants, her heats were always like taking a vacation to hell. She had to wonder if the pain meds even helped at all.

  Care for a dip in the lava bath, madam? I’ve brought you a towel made of sandpaper to dry your skin.

  She snorted at the British voice in her head, and then groaned as she curled herself into the fetal position.

  Okay, so maybe the pain meds were helping, but only a little.

  But no matter how advanced science was becoming, no one had figured out how to keep her body from aching. How to avoid the unbearable pain she marked on her calendar every three months.

  Like clockwork, she was registered useless four to eight weeks out of the year, every year.

  Ah, the joys of being an omega.

  She snarled against the cramp in her gut, the squeeze of her core around nothing as she ached for something, anything to fill the void.

  It had to end soon, right? How long had she been stuck in this same room, in this same bed, counting down the hours and swallowing sips of water with every dosage her phone’s alarm reminded her to take?

  She always lost track soon after the first few hours, dozing in out of a tense sleep as she anticipated the first wave of pain.

  But surely—hopefully—it would be over soon.

  She got her wish, but only after several more hours of twisting and turning, drenched in pain and sweat before she washed up on the shore of sanity.

  Kind of. When she blinked her eyes open, moonlight was streaming in through her nest windows, and her vision wavered slightly. She felt fuzzy around the edges, a little lightheaded.

  Moving slowly, she sat up and slid to the edge of the bed, every muscle in her body protesting after spending—she glanced at her phone, wincing at the light—a week and five days tense and riddled with pain.

  “Fuck,” she muttered.

  A lady wouldn’t speak in that way, her mother’s voice echoed in her mind.

  “Fuck,” she repeated, just to spite the ghost in her memory.

  She groaned as she put her weight on her feet, the muscles in her thighs and legs screaming. Her steps were unsteady as she crossed five feet to the bathroom, stumbling over pillows she’d tossed out of the way in her feverish state. The doorway was blissfully close to her own bed. Her hair fell into her face, the long strands tangled and scraping against her skin. She would have bundled them up in a bun, but it made her scalp too sore during the heats.

  Towels littered the floor from where she’d attempted ice-cold baths to calm the heat, and she stepped over them, bracing her palm on the chilly sink counter.

  Avoiding the mirror completely, she reached in and cranked the water on to rain from the showerhead on the gentlest setting.

  It was barely stronger than mist, but as she stepped inside and it began to bead on her skin, she sighed.

  She kept it lukewarm as she washed sweat from her skin and need from between her thighs.

  By the time she stepped out, smelling of her favorite wash instead of the chemical tinged sweat from her suppressants, she felt almost human again. The muted vanilla complimented her own lavender and honey scent, and she sighed.

  At least until she looked in the mirror.

  Her lips turned down in a frown as she studied the bags under her eyes and her pallid skin.

  She was still stiff as she tied her hair up in a loose, wet bun, d
ried off, and threw on her biggest, comfiest sweatshirt.

  Her steps were near silent as she grabbed her phone and trailed into the open main area, split in three between living room, kitchen, and dining room.

  As she swiped through her contacts, she selected a number from the top of her favorites list and unlocked the three deadbolts into the entryway. Two boxes and a tote of groceries were waiting inside the tiny room, and she sighed just as her stomach rumbled.

  “How was it?” the female voice on the line asked.

  “Hell, as usual. When are the auditions?”

  “Still scheduled for the twenty-fourth like you asked. Will you be there?” her agent questioned.

  She scoffed and grabbed the tote of food first before walking back to the kitchen. “Andi, we’ve worked together for how long? Do you think I’d miss the first round of tryouts for my touring band? You bet your ass I’ll be there.”

  “Okay, I was just making sure you were—”

  “I’m fine,” she bit out, managing to cut down on the annoyance in her reply. “The heat is over. It won’t be a problem. Besides, I’ll be watching through the mirror, yeah?”

  “Yeah, of course. That’s what we’ve got set up. Guess how many have signed up?” she asked, and Lyric could feel her excitement through the phone.

  “How many?” She tried to quell her hope as she pulled fresh fruit from the bag.

  “Right now, one hundred and forty-six,” Andi said.

  Slowly, Lyric sat the half peeled banana on the counter, eyes wide and locked on the white wall across from her.

  “One hundred and forty-six?”

  “Yep. And the sign-up is still posted through next Wednesday.”

  When she remained silent, Andi chuckled. “What did you expect, you talented bitch? I knew as soon as your music got out there, people would flock.”

  “Well, yeah, but this is my first tour, and—”

  “And it’s projected you’ll sell out every seat. There aren’t many musicians who would miss out on an opportunity.”

  Lyric picked her banana back up and continued peeling it before she bit into it. As the dull flavor burst on her tongue, she tried to speak. “We’ll have to weed out the fans who aren’t taking it seriously.”

  “Exactly. That’s the whole reason for the screened auditions.”

  “I love you,” Lyric admitted dreamily.

  A soft chuckle came from the other line. “I know. It’s why we’ve worked so well together from the beginning.”

  “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Lyric had been introduced to Andi by her mother. With horror stories from the music world, Andi had been brought in to scare Lyric away from pursuing what she loved most. Instead, Andi and she had sucked back a few cocktails, smoked a joint—or was it two?—and had been friends ever since. The whole business relationship thing was just a perk at this point.

  As Andi said her goodbyes, Lyric finished the banana off and tossed the peel in the compost bin with a smile before grabbing her next snack—a peach.

  Fruit was always her favorite thing to indulge in after a heat.

  One hundred and forty-six.

  A week and two days later, she’d be sitting down behind a mirror and listening to one hundred and forty-six musicians try out for her touring band. She’d have to sit for hours, take notes, weed through the posers, and make four decisions that could ultimately make or break her very first tour.

  She couldn’t fucking wait.

  “You ready?” Andi asked from beside her, glancing over with a perfectly purple dyed brow.

  “I’ve been ready,” Lyric responded, and adjusted the stack of papers in front of her… again.

  So maybe she was a tiny bit nervous. It was expected. Thankfully, she didn’t have the record company’s bigwigs standing over her shoulder either. Just her best friend and agent, Andi.

  Andi said something into the Bluetooth device hooked over her ear, and the door to the music room opened.

  The people auditioning could bring their own instruments or use those provided, and this first guy…

  Lyric glanced down at the paper on the top of the stack. Jacoby. Beta. Auditioning for the role of drummer. He had no choice but to take a seat behind the set of drums placed in the center of the room.

  Dark hair, tall, a slit cut into his eyebrow, he smirked at the glass as he lifted the sticks.

  He had a decently impressive past in the music industry, according to his application, but after checking the box marking himself as an ex-member of a band, he’d purposely left the reason why blank.

  Though she’d never heard of them.

  Which didn’t mean anything…

  As he clapped the sticks together to count the beat in, Lyric narrowed her eyes.

  He played a fast and furious beat before transitioning it to something simpler, less intense. It was impressive, she couldn’t lie.

  Andi typed away on her laptop, and Lyric pointed out the section he’d left blank.

  “Know anything about him?” she inquired.

  Andi glanced over with a smirk. “I will in about three sec—Bingo.”

  Lyric read over her shoulder and frowned at the first mention of sexual assault.

  “Ew. Next,” she said. Andi repeated her sentiment—a little more kindly—into the microphone and instructed Jacoby to leave. Jacoby laid his drum sticks down with a proud smile, as if confident he’d make it to the next round of auditions. A guard ushered him from the room and Lyric placed his paper in the hell no pile. Otherwise known as the trash.

  In the music world, it was no secret that bands often got themselves mixed up in sexual assault cases. They let the fame get to their heads, took advantage of fans, and Lyric wanted no part of that near her or her reputation. And at the very least, she didn’t want some asshole on her payroll.

  “Well, that makes the process a lot easier,” Lyric commented.

  As an omega, she was even more cautious about adding a touring band into her everyday life. On the road, she’d be surrounded by her bandmates nearly twenty-four seven, and Lyric wasn’t looking to spend her time with someone she wasn’t completely comfortable with.

  And even though selecting them from the applications was only the first step in the process, followed by in-depth background checks, drug testing, and even covert psych eval interviews with the omega center, she wanted to weed the bad ones out as quickly as possible.

  “It does. You think it would be common sense, since you’re an omega and all.”

  “You’d think. Instead, it probably just entices them more to try and get away with it. Get close to me.”

  She shrugged the shiver away that tried to work its way up her spine and studied the next applicant. Her paranoia wasn’t born from an overinflated ego.

  It was simply that omegas were coveted. By nature, they were a little more vulnerable, and as always, someone existed who wanted to take advantage of that. Whether it be entitled alphas who thought themselves above the law, black market sex traffickers, or simply assholes who liked to bully those weaker than them. Lyric wasn’t willing to try her luck.

  “Next we have Ryan…”

  And so the day continued. For ages. Weeks. Years, it seemed. But no, a few hours later, they’d viewed nearly twenty applicants. And of those twenty, Lyric had only set two papers aside to continue with the process.

  “Ugh,” Lyric groaned, and laid her head on the table.

  “We’ll find them, don’t worry,” Andi comforted.

  When Lyric just rolled her head to the side to stare at her, Andi grinned as she responded to her Bluetooth earpiece. “Bring it in.” Then she spoke to Lyric. “I ordered—”

  The cheesy garlic scent wafted in as the door to their room opened, and she lifted her head off the table to sigh dreamily. “Pizza! Andi, have I told you I love you lately?”

  “Yes. But don’t stop on my account.”

  Lyric chuckled at her as the guard—hired by the label to escort
applicants in and out of the building—sat the pizza down and left with a kind smile.

  As the next applicant was ushered into the other room, Lyric propped open the box and slid her hand underneath the warm crust to remove a slice for herself.

  “Oh, god,” she moaned as she tilted her head back to catch the dripping cheese from the edge of it. “This is so good.”

  “Uh, everything okay in there?” an applicant’s voice came through the speaker system.

  Lyric choked on her pizza and slammed her hand, smeared with grease, over the button that activated the speaker. She’d forgotten to turn it off after they’d instructed the last applicant to leave.

  Andi cackled, carefully pulling her own slice onto a paper plate.

  Groaning in embarrassment instead of pizza-ecstasy, she grabbed a napkin and wiped the button off carefully.

  Then she got a look at the applicant, and almost swallowed her tongue along with her bite.

  He was tall, like really tall. That was the first thing she noticed about him. The second was that he was blushing. Even through the one-sided viewing glass, even against his dark, umber-toned skin, she could see color darken his cheeks as he dutifully focused on the equipment he’d brought with him.