Chapter Seven ABBIE #3
She shoots a venomous look over her shoulder, and I shrug at the surprise on Glory’s face. “Good lord, Abbie! I feel like I should wash your mouth out for that one, but I enjoyed seeing her scuttle off far too much.”
“Always happy to help out,” I tell her. “But maybe I’ll go check on my bike, just in case she decides to get there first.” I can easily imagine her putting one of those spiky heels to evil use, and I’m still raw about the damage my poor queen has already taken.
“Can you point me in the direction of Cruise?”
“He’ll be at the workshop,” she tells me, “but let me swap out with Patch. We don’t like to leave Lyla on her own too much.”
I nod, but touch her arm as she turns to the door. “Glory, she’s really lucky to have you.”
Her eyes grow misty as she glances at the butterfly on my throat. “I hope you find the same happiness, honey. You deserve every bit of it.”
I force a smile, but there are too many thoughts tangled in my head for me to agree with her.
I’ve been in the compound for less than an hour and I’m already starting to question my own assumptions.
Like why is Patch so defensive of Ark, even though they were both responsible for kicking me out?
And what did Glory mean by Ark sending Wings to check up on me after they supposedly tracked me down?
We reconnected in my local grocery store, for god’s sake.
Despite my shock at bumping into him out of the blue, he never suggested it was anything but random luck.
And what’s this about the club having an omega refuge pipeline?
As far as I’m aware, the club’s business is in private security contracts, custom bikes, and a few other local businesses.
The Flyers I remember were more likely to profit off trafficked and abused omegas than protect them.
Folding my arms over my chest, I drift across the gravel clearing towards the open doors of the gym.
I can hear the heavy thuds of someone punishing a punching bag and I’m tempted to go in and join them.
A nice, hard sparring session might jar this tight feeling out of my chest, and then I can grab my bike and put the whole club behind me…
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but it’s easy to spot the guy working the punching bag, since he’s the only person in the whole gym.
He’s stripped down to faded jeans and boots, which is kind of weird for a workout, but my gaze slides over the heavy muscles of his back, appreciating the view.
He’s a picture of raw power, every punch he levels at the bag making it shudder on its chain.
I take another step forward, wondering why someone isn’t spotting for him.
He pauses, the bag swinging wildly, and as my foot scrapes against the concrete floor, his head snaps around.
He peers at me through a tangle of dark hair and my heart nearly stops in my chest.
My alpha.
It’s such a ridiculous thought, but I feel his gaze like it’s just hooked deep in my soul.
Goosebumps prickle my skin as I stare back at him, entranced.
Like most alphas, he’s big, with broad shoulders and thick-knuckled hands.
But he’s also tightly muscled, with not an inch of fat on his frame.
His face is almost painfully lean, with deep hollows beneath his cheekbones and a sharp chin covered in scruff.
Combined with his midnight black eyes and the dark hair brushing his shoulders, he has a wolfish look that makes me pause.
Or maybe that’s the silvery scar running from his left brow down to his ear…
or the tiny knots of damaged tissue peppered on his chest and shoulders…
Who hurt you, Alpha?
Despite my greedy stare, he doesn’t say anything, and I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my spine. What is he thinking? And who the hell is he, for that matter? Because there’s no way I’ve forgotten a guy who looks like him, even if it has been five years.
“Hi.” I start forward, feeling a faint whisper of embarrassment at the wobble in my voice. “Um, I’m Abbie…”
He drags in a harsh breath, but before I can say another word, he turns on his heel and strides towards a side exit.
My heart thuds, my muscles instinctively tightening in protest.
He can’t possibly be running away from me, can he?
Something deep inside me shudders at the thought, and there’s no stopping my feet as I hurry to follow him.
“Stay away!” I’ve barely taken a half dozen steps when his alpha authority cracks over me, rooting me to the spot.
I’ve been commanded before, but this is like being hit by a barbed-wire whip, and I cry out as my muscles seize in shock.
As he turns to stare at me, I can barely draw a breath, but there’s no missing the acrid scent in the air.
His scent, I realize, a honey and amber blend that would be as delicious as maple syrup if it wasn’t dosed with pure, alpha rejection.
He doesn’t want me.
The reality thuds through me as he turns and ducks through the door, shutting it firmly behind him. Not that he needs to bother, the urge to give chase now replaced by an overpowering need to get away.
He doesn’t want me.
As the compulsion of his command fades, I stumble back so fast, I don’t see Patch until I’m nearly falling into his arms. “Abbie? What’s wrong?” He peers past me, but the guy is long gone, the punching bag slowly swinging to a stop. “Was someone in here?”
“No… I just…” I stumble past him, my numb feet carrying me on the fastest route towards the gate. “I have to go. Can you tell Cruise I’ll get Wings to collect my bike?”
“What the hell?” Patch is hurrying after me, but I don’t slow down.
The same young prospect from before stares open-mouthed as I sprint towards him, and I gesture for him to open the gate.
I’m vaguely aware of Patch peeling away, but I shake it off.
I’ll have to call and apologize to Glory, but right now, all I want is to get away as fast as I can.
I fumble in my pocket for my phone, quickly calling myself a rideshare. There’s one close by, and as soon as I’m through the gate, I jog in the direction on the map. I’ve never wanted my bike beneath me more than right this moment, and I grit my teeth at the thud of heavy boots behind me.
“Abbie!” I bite my lip, turning to find Ark striding towards me, his muscles tense and his boots kicking up gravel.
It’s not quite a run, but my heart doesn’t know the difference, and for a moment I feel a flare of excitement sizzle through my veins.
What would he look like if he was really chasing me, my scent in his lungs, his need burning through him like wildfire. ..?
What the hell, Abbie?
I back up so fast, I almost trip over my own feet.
“I didn’t know you were here,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me? I wanted to show you around…”
I glance desperately down the street for my ride. “I have to go.”
He grinds to a stop, frustration edging his scent. “Now? Didn’t you just arrive?”
“I just came for my bike, but I forgot I had an appointment.” He takes another step towards me and I raise my arm, warning him back. “Ark, I can’t stay. This was a mistake.”
He waves that off. “Just tell me you’ll come back. There’s a lot I need to say to you.”
“I bet.” I want to grill him on everything I’ve just seen and heard, but only one question trips off my tongue. “Did you really send Wings to check up on me?”
He frowns. “I had a lot of people looking for you,” he says slowly, but without a trace of remorse. “What did you expect me to do? Just pretend like you didn’t exist?”
I gape at him. “Ark, I’m not your problem.”
“You’re mine,” he says, eyes flashing. “You can just leave it there, or you come back in with me and let me prove it to you.”
Proof, not just words. I have no idea what that would involve, but like that image of him chasing me down, the urge to give in to him makes my knees tremble.
But I thrust it aside, remembering the look on the alpha’s face as he rejected me in the gym.
It doesn’t matter what my biology is begging me to do, the men in that clubhouse will always let me down.
“I need to clear my head…” I look over my shoulder at the approaching car and breathe a sigh of relief when it slows at the curb. “I’m sorry, Ark. I just can’t do this.”
I swing the door open, but as I scramble inside, he catches the frame and bends to meet my eyes. “Then come back for Patch’s party next Friday. “
“Like everything’s just back to normal?” I ask, my bitterness rising between us. “Do you really think I can just put it all behind me?”
“No. But I’m asking if we can start over.” I catch a startled glance from the driver, but Ark clearly doesn’t care who can hear him, because he says in a low, ominous rumble, “If you don’t come to me, I’m coming to you, Abbie. Take your pick, but I’m not going to let you run from me forever.”