Chapter 10 Winnie #2
My eyes meet his. There’s nothing but intensity and a banked fire. It’s clear he could be the dominant alpha. He almost reaches that peak. But neither his scent, jasmine and smoke, nor the look in his eyes reads truly dominant. His mouth is a hard line. He seems more resigned than in charge.
“Do?” I echo, not quite understanding.
“About the bond. Your friends made it clear that they think that we’re dangerous alphas who can’t be trusted.
But we also can’t leave. We could avoid each other in town until you both learn to block the bond subconsciously.
I’m sure there’s something we could find to do in a town with one coffee shop, one restaurant, and not even a movie theater. ”
I scowl at his description of my home.
“The other option is to stay and work on courting. Which, to be frank, doesn’t look like a great idea.” He exhales. “You’re our scent-sensitive match. Our mate. That’s clear—but we’re—”
“Gage,” Zeke growls, probably feeling my rising annoyance through the bond.
“—different,” Gage finishes. “Our pack rides rough. At the club, when you got bit, we had a gig. That’s why we were there.”
“A gig? Like… you sing?” I ask, hesitant.
Rafe chokes on a sip of amber liquid, laughing, and even Eli gives a low chuckle.
“Does that look like the face of an alpha who gets on stage?” Rafe asks, gesturing to Eli’s skull mask.
A hand tentatively wraps around my knee under the table as Zeke leans in. “We tattoo, Blossom,” he says, winking before inhaling my lilac-and-rose scent.
I must look confused because Gage clarifies. “We’re a traveling tattoo group. Pop-ups all over the state. Parties, clubs, whatever. Last night we were there to work the club you were at.”
That jogs a memory of Flora trying to get all the bridesmaids to agree to matching tattoos before her big day.
She got four of the six to say yes, but I absolutely vetoed it.
I don’t love conflict, but I won’t do something I’m not comfortable with, and I’ve never had a tattoo.
I put the kibosh on the whole thing. Flora and her maid of honor threw a fit, but I stood firm.
That’s why they chose that club. Tattoos.
“Did you do a woman in a white jumpsuit with a big fake veil?” I ask. “She wanted a—”
“Big red bow on her wrist?”
I startle. It’s the first time Eli’s spoken; his voice is deep, muffled by the mask.
“Y-Yes.”
“Yeah, I did her and her three friends. Why the fuck did she want that?” he asks.
“Oh. She said something about tying us all together on her special day forever. I opted out. I, um… don’t like needles.”
Heat creeps up my neck. Probably not the ideal thing to admit to a table of tattoo-artist alphas who are my mates. But it’s the truth.
Gage levels me with a flat stare, as if to say My point exactly, then sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. I’m struck again by the sense that he’s carrying something heavy for the pack. Something he might not have been meant to carry.
“We’re getting off topic,” he says. “What do you want to do?”
“What do you want to do?” I snap back.
“I want to go back in time and stop all of this from ever happening,” he replies flatly.
My stomach sinks. My scent probably ashes out.
I always wondered what it would be like to find my scent matches, scent-sensitive matches felt like a fairytale, something that happens to other people.
But binding someone by accident definitely wasn’t on my bingo card.
Knowing the pack is less than thrilled doesn’t help.
The scent of smoked cedar and leather curls around me; I know Corbin is at my back.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Gage asks, venom in every word.
“I was invited, Gage,” Corbin growls. My omega whines deep inside, and I barely keep it from escaping. He crouches beside my chair, bringing his face level with mine. “You okay, Sweetheart? What did he say?”
He clearly scented my distress. The scrambling in my chest gets worse. Being around Corbin is almost impossible. If a heat spike happens here, I’ll die on the spot.
“Nothing. Gage was asking what I’d like to do next.”
I glance at Gage. His jaw is tight, but his eyes have softened. His shoulders slump slightly.
“I may have miscommunicated my meaning,” he amends.
Corbin shoots him a hard glare. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances, and I have…
concerns… that this match may not suit you.
That doesn’t mean I’m unwilling to try, if you want to try.
But, like I said, I’m concerned with what you want. ”
Corbin seems mildly appeased. When he looks back at me, his eyes search my face as though he’s trying to read me through a bond we don’t yet share.
Meanwhile, the bond at my core thrums with nervous anticipation and a fair bit of dread. As if Zeke half thinks I’ll reject him. I’m not like Corbin. I can’t pretend none of this affects me. He clearly reads my thoughts in my expression; his shoulders lift on an inhale and sag on the exhale.
“I’d like to try,” I say. But the words come smaller than I intend. I clear my throat and try again. “I’d like to try.”
I’m tempted to add If you want to, but I resist. He offered. If he wanted to, he would, as my mother always says. They said they would, so I’m taking that to mean they want to.
Zeke’s smile goes wide, and a swoop of joy—cleaner and brighter than anything I’ve felt from him yet—rushes through the bond. I let a little thread of tentative excitement answer.
“Not with him,” Gage says, and my heart sinks. He means Corbin, who sighs and bows his head.
“Listen—” Corbin starts, but Gage cuts him off.
“No, you listen. You abandoned the pack. You don’t get to waltz back in now that we have something you want and pretend nothing happened. That’s not how it fucking works.”
I stay quiet. I can’t know the extent of their hurt, but even Zeke, who seems relatively laid back, sours the bond with bitter betrayal.
“When I left, I wasn’t in a good headspace,” Corbin says, standing.
“I don’t know if you’re right and I made the wrong call, but it was the only one I could make.
What did you want me to do? Stay and infect the pack with my bitterness?
I dragged you down, and I know it. I’m not here just because of Winnie.
I wanted to see you. To make sure you’re okay. ”
“Zeke got bit, and now we’re stuck in this town. So I wouldn’t say okay, no,” Rafe says, dry as dust. He doesn’t look as furious as Gage, but he’s not happy either. Gage just glares.
The scrambling at my center won’t be contained; an omega whine slips out, and every alpha turns to me. Corbin crouches again, and I let his big arms circle me as he pulls me in and rubs slow circles up and down my spine.
Over his shoulder, Gage meets my eyes. The conflict there is heartbreaking. I want to tell him I’m okay, that I understand, that I don’t want him to feel forced. But another whine is lodged in my throat, and if I open my mouth it’ll only be that.
Gage sighs. “I promise nothing. But trying can’t hurt if we’re stuck here anyway.”
My omega does a backflip. Her excitement and my trepidation meld into a sickening cocktail.
This should be interesting.