Chapter 53
chapter
fifty-three
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I mutter, tripping into my left heel and scurrying out of my room.
Geez . Jonah usually isn’t so intense. I didn’t even know he was home, and now he’s down in the garage, laying on his horn like it’s a hammock.
Avery took me to get my driver’s license today, and my big man told me we were going to grab dinner to celebrate my newfound freedom after he finished practice.
Come to think of it, taking me anywhere super fancy really isn’t like Jonah. The fact that he texted to tell me to wear my best de-scenter and a fancy dress were both out of character too.
Now I’m wondering why I didn’t ask more questions. Probably because I was so excited by the concept of an actual real-life date, I didn’t want to discourage him.
I feel a little giddy about finally being able to drive us there, too. The form-fitting dress I dug out of the middle of my new wardrobe is short and tight enough not to distract me like a flowy skirt around my knees would.
Jade isn’t a color I would normally pick, but Jonah loves my eyes so I figured I’d try to make them pop tonight. With all the craziness, this is the first time I’ve been out with my big man one-on-one, so I also took extra time with my hair and makeup.
But when I finally rush out of the elevator and into the garage, Jo isn’t waiting next to his shiny white Bronco.
He isn’t here at all.
Instead, Tristan Thorne stands there with his expression unruffled and his hands in the pockets of his gray suit.
Next to… the Batmobile?
It sure looks like the car from the movie Avery made the whole pack watch last Sunday. All sleek and matte black, slung low to the ground with the sorts of sexy angles that give the sense it’s already in motion.
I stop up short, my platforms scraping against the concrete floor. “Um… hi?”
The corner of Tristan’s mouth pulls up. “Hello.”
I chance a few steps forward, eyeing the beautiful beast idling beside him. “What, um—what is this ?”
Tristan’s smile takes on a wry quality as he surveys the vehicle and turns back to me with a shrug. “Your car.”
A startled guffaw jumps out of me. “My— what ? This isn’t a car; this is a missile. I barely have a license, and I’m pretty sure that’s only because Avery threatened the guy at the DMV today.”
No sex for my fighter has definitely turned him into a bit of a lunati c. But my heat hormones are almost as bad, so, you know—gotta find the ones who can match your freak.
Tristan’s shoulders lift in another blasé roll. “I did make some calls. But you would have passed your test, anyway. You got a perfect score on the written exam and the practical. So I thought you deserved a gift.”
He waves an arm at the car again. And gradually, it sinks in.
He isn’t kidding.
This car is here for me .
I float closer, mouth hanging open. “Tristan—how did you— why did you ?—”
“I noticed you eying one at the valet stand when we went shopping. This model is top of the line, though. And it’s a convertible.”
I just gape. At the car. At him.
Why on earth would he do this? Is it his way of trying to get closer to me? Or yet another in an endless string of apologies?
Because— I get it . He’s sorry . He’s sorry he bit me and bonded me and brought me home. And it doesn’t seem to matter that I’m not sorry anymore. Because he’s remorseful enough for the both of us.
My head shakes. “I—I don’t need this, Tristan. If it’s some apology or a way to make yourself feel better I just?—”
But he strides right to me. Closer than the polite distance he used to maintain so carefully. Fervor lights his features as he sinks those ocean irises into mine.
“It’s not an apology or a bribe. I won’t lie and say you don’t deserve both, but that’s not why I wanted to do this. It’s a gift ,” he husks out. “Because you deserve beautiful things. And I want to be the man who gets them for you.”
Oh. My. God.
Can I ask—how, exactly, does one argue with that?
No? Stop? Please?
I blink down at the sleek, outrageously beautiful convertible, trying to come up with any way I can possibly object .
And I only come up with one.
“You guys won’t fit.”
Tristan’s dark brow creases. “You mean…”
“All of you,” I murmur, brushing my fingers over the flawless matte-black hood. “I love this car, Tristan. It is beautiful, and it means a lot that you noticed how much I liked it, but… I won’t be able to drive with everyone in the car. Like for…”
Family time .
The words sound so stupid in my head that I can’t get them out.
I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’ve never had a real family—and if we really wanted to be one, that would mean completing the bond with Tris before the others claim me.
Sometimes, I swear he can read my mind. It would bother me more if he weren’t so damn kind about it.
As it is, Tristan just smiles—and God, it isn’t fair how gorgeous he is when he does that. “Then I suppose I’ll have to buy you another,” he says. “For our family.”
When Tristan admits that Jonah’s texts were a ruse and, really, the senator is the one taking me to dinner, I’m not even surprised. Of all my guys, Jo is definitely the softy. Of course he wanted to help Tris with…
Whatever this is.
I try to figure it out as he steers my car through the posh, brick streets surrounding the townhouse. He tried to convince me to drive, but I was too chicken. Besides, there are a lot worse things than this view…
The houses here are beautiful we pass French-country mansions, stately colonials, and a huge modern-Gothic estate that turns my head .
Good Lord —do those people have their own greenhouse ?
Where are we?
Tris drives the Lamborghini like he was born to—which, I guess, he sort of was. Still, though, his casual handling and inherent sex appeal would be enough to have the interior soaked in my perfume if I hadn’t bathed in de-scenter.
As much as it bothers me that he clearly had Jonah ask me to neutralize before we went out together, this time, I get it. What happened in that fancy store last week was beyond embarrassing.
When I mention it, though, he nearly jerks the car off the road before casting me a scowl.
After a long, furious beat, he curves two fingers at me. “Serena. Come here.”
Brow creasing, I lean across the center console, wondering if he’s about to try to kiss me or…
Instead, he tilts his head. Letting me get a good read of his scent, which?—
Isn’t there?
When I blink at him, he explains, “I thought it would be nice for us to spend some time together without that element in play. You know—not as mates or alpha and omega. Just… Tristan and Serena.”
I’m… speechless. Not because my Omega is freaking out, but because I am touched beyond words.
We roll up to a stop light, giving him ample time to see the tears gathering in my eyes. Thinking he’s upset me, he starts rambling, “Not that I don’t love your scent, omega. You know I do. I only?—”
He can’t finish the sentence.
Because my lips are suddenly covering his.