Chapter Three WINGS #3
I’m not actually feeling that feisty, especially after the four orgasms Abbie sucked out of my body, but Pitt isn’t the kind of guy who gets sidelined very often.
With his boxer’s physique, green eyes, and dominant vibe, he’s hard to ignore, and most people fall all over themselves to either give in to him or get out of his way.
“Fair warning, though. Wrestling with you in that bed isn’t exactly a turn off for me. ”
I snort. “Because you’re a freak as well as a creep.”
“Maybe. But I’m serious about looking out for you.
” His feet shuffle again, and the hard edge of his dominance spreads across the room, filling my lungs with needle pricks.
“I know the club charter is bullshit, and you don’t need some alpha meathead vouching for you.
But I’m here if you want me to smooth the path back in. ”
I drop my gaze, because I still haven’t wrapped my head around returning to the clubhouse as an omega.
I’ve spent years scowling at the way certain club members talk about the designation, especially if they’re young and unbonded.
Depending on the brand of asshole, they’re either playthings to be used and tossed aside, or the spawn of the devil sent to tempt the bonds of brotherhood.
Abbie wasn’t the first or last omega to be sent away, but she’s the one that cut the deepest, and I still have nightmares of the night she was kicked out, her brother holding me back like my feet were sunk into cement.
“You know her story?” I ask Pitt as I brush back her tangled hair.
Her breathing is slow and even, a tiny curve to her lips that makes my weary cock stir.
Soft, unguarded Abbie is my kryptonite, and it makes my stomach clench at the way I failed to protect her, back when we were seventeen.
“You know that Booker threw her out when she was just a kid?”
“The bare bones,” he admits, his voice a dark rumble. “Ark doesn’t talk about her much, so I had to hear it from Patch.”
I nod, because the club’s medic was a first-hand witness to the shitshow.
Complicit, even, since he was the one to sedate Abbie before Ark carried her away from us.
“Yeah, well all that legacy and brotherhood stuff meant fuck all when she presented as an omega. Seventeen, in a fever, and never having lived a day outside the compound walls. And if you think the club had some cushy boardinghouse waiting for her, you don’t know how little they care about omegas. ”
I can taste his anger, his muscles rippling as he folds his arms over his chest. “We're changing that. You know we are.”
I know they're trying, the circle of guys Ark has brought in to dilute the power his dad held over the club. But what people say to your face and what they do behind your back are two different things. “Getting rid of Booker’s poison is going to be harder than you think.”
“Okay, but change starts with Ark.” He casts one last glance at Abbie before he backs up. “You need to talk to him, brother, and I suggest you do it before he comes looking for you.”
It's three days before I can force myself to discuss the club with Abbie.
My fever has finally broken and we're making dinner, my nerves soothed by the familiar rhythms of preparing a meal together. We're both barefoot, our hair damp from the shower where I pressed her to the wall and ate her out until she screamed. I can still smell her scent on my skin, and while the garlic and spices in the meatballs fill the air, it’s her peach and cloves perfume that makes my mouth water. She's got music playing, something soft and sexy, her hips swaying as she stirs the sauce. It’s about as perfect a scene as I could picture, and I just want to wrap her in my arms and freeze frame it. But just as we’re serving up, there's a knock at the door, and my throat throbs because I know exactly who's on the other side.
Abbie glances at me, her brow wrinkling as she reads my expression. “I guess we made enough for three.”
I shrug, because while Pitt left after his comment about Ark, he hasn’t exactly been a stranger.
He drops by at least twice a day, either ‘checking in’ as he puts it, or dropping off random things, like strawberries he saw at a street market, or a carton of OJ to replace the one he drained the last time he was here.
“I just think we should talk,” I tell her with a feeble shrug. “I can’t ignore them forever.”
By ‘them’ I obviously mean the club, which is usually a taboo subject in the apartment. But I guess that’s a hard rule to enforce when the club’s literal enforcer is standing on the doorstep with a bottle of wine and a bakery box in his hands.
Abbie cocks a brow at him, a glint of challenge in her eyes, and Pitt runs his gaze over both of us, intense in a way that makes my blood hum.
I’ve had a couple of days to mull it over, and I just have to accept that shit has changed.
I always felt like he had my back, and I preferred to ride with him over most of the other members of the club.
He’s quieter than me, and way more dominant, but he has a funny side, too.
Cynical, but amused by the little things, and he’s kickass at crosswords, which helps pass the time on the road.
It was easy sharing a motel room with him on rides, so my brain isn’t fighting his near-constant presence in the apartment.
If I’m being honest, it feels good to have him here, especially given the way he watches Abbie with the same fascination I feel whenever she’s close.
I might not want to sink to my knees and take his cock, but the thought of the three of us tumbling onto the sofa in a haze of lust makes my skin tighten in anticipation.
Just dinner, I remind myself, even as my cock stirs in my jeans.
“Did you go home or are you sleeping in the hallway now?” Abbie asks as Pitt sets the bakery box on the counter and hands her the bottle of wine.
“I’ve stuck around,” he says, heading into the kitchen for a corkscrew. “But if I’m getting under your feet, I can make myself scarce for a few days.”
Abbie takes the corkscrew off him and opens the bottle with a practiced flourish. “They’re not missing you at the club?”
“I told Ark that Wings has a virus and I’m lying low in case I’m contagious.”
I already gave Abbie our cover story, but she just holds his gaze. “He's going to get suspicious soon, though. What then?”
“We talk to him.” Pitt waits until we’ve sunk into our seats before he takes his. “All three of us, if you’ll agree to that.”
Abbie calmly serves us, but I know her well enough to read the signs of strain. “And say what?”
“You're both legacies. The Iron Flyers is yours as much as anyone's.”
“Assuming we're claimed. Ark can say different, but until it’s voted in at church, the rule still applies. Unclaimed omegas don’t have a place in the Iron Flyers.
” The bitter truth settles between us and the meatball in my mouth suddenly tastes like ash.
Abbie catches my gaze, a shimmer of regret in her eyes.
“It shouldn’t be like that, sweetheart, but until an alpha bites us, we’re worthless to the club. ”
Pitt growls, a sound I don’t think I’ve ever heard come from his throat, and as my head whips around, he sits back in his chair and sighs. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to react like that. But you shouldn't have to choose between the club and your pack.”
Abbie stares at him. “We don’t have a pack. That's the point.”
But I get where he’s coming from. We might not be a conventional match, but Abbie’s my whole world, and Pitt knows it. I put down my fork and reach over to twine our fingers together. “Don’t we, butterfly? Because you feel like my mate, even if we don’t have the bites to prove it.”
The tension melts from her shoulders and she smiles at me, her scent curling around me like a caress. “You’re right. You’re all I've ever wanted or needed.”
I lean over to kiss her, and Pitt waits until we’ve broken apart before he leans forward, his elbows on the table and his wineglass raised in a toast. “Then that's what we tell the club and if they don’t want to hear it, we’ll keep saying it until they fucking listen.”