Chapter Ten ABBIE
The next day starts with the three of us wrapped in fresh bedsheets, Wings at my front, Pitt at my back.
As tempting as it was to continue things from the shower, I wasn’t ready for more, and my body seemed to know it.
I crashed into a deep, heavy sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, and by the time I realized the fluttering in my chest was from the butterflies burning between my ribs, I was clawing myself awake.
“You’re safe,” Pitt murmurs into my hair, his arm across my waist as I shudder through the remnants of my dream. “You’re awake now, and we’re here.”
I blink groggily around the room, my heart slowing a little as my gaze settles on Wings. He’s sitting beside me with a sketchpad on his knee, his hand brushing soothingly over my hair. “If this is too much, Abbie, we can put it off…”
Right. The move back to the clubhouse. He needs to go, and I need to be there to protect him.
Or, at least that’s what I tell myself as I grab his free hand, kissing the tips of his long, slim fingers.
They smell of ink, paper, and dark chocolate and I rub my thumb over his tattooed knuckles.
RIDE on the right hand, FLY on the left, like those are the only two choices in life.
By the time I’ve kissed each letter, I can manage a small smile. “It’s okay. Just got a lot on my mind.”
“Then how about we put that on hold for a little while?” He gives me a wicked smirk as he sets his sketchpad aside, sliding down the bed to distract me in the best possible way.
I glance back at Pitt with a cocked brow, but he just tucks his hands behind his head.
“Don’t look at me. I’m pretty sure I’m still dreaming. ”
Once Wings has thoroughly distracted me, it takes a while to gather the strength to get out of bed.
I move slowly as I rummage through my closet and bathroom cabinets, and when I’m done, Pitt and Wings are already in the kitchen, discussing logistics.
They break off as I drop my duffel bag at my feet. “I’m ready.”
Pitt casts a glance at the packing boxes against the wall. “We were just talking about getting a van from the workshop…”
“No need.” I press the toe of my boot against the duffel. “I’m only taking what my queen can carry.” He raises his brows at me, but I turn my attention to Wings. “I can always come back. To pack more, I mean. But this is everything I can’t live without.”
It’s not a lot, admittedly, but the guys just nod, gathering up their own things while I double-check all the window locks.
I turn off appliances, but leave the refrigerator running, and then swing my duffel onto my shoulder.
It’s a little on the light side, but the truth is, I don’t see the point in bringing more until I know exactly what kind of reception we’re going to get.
It starts well, the sun warm on our backs as we ride out of my apartment garage.
The scents of early summer fill the air, and I love having my queen beneath me again, the engine humming and her chrome gleaming.
I’m still enraged to think that someone hurt her so badly, but I force myself to keep my attention on the road.
I’ll talk to Cruise when I get to the clubhouse, firstly to work out what I owe him for the repairs, but also to see what he thinks about the damage that she took.
Maybe he has some insights into the kind of asshole who’s targeting me.
I’m still chewing over that question myself when we arrive at the compound.
There are two new prospects on the gate, and they stand back as we ride through, barely making eye contact as we park our bikes.
I wonder if they’ve been forewarned of our arrival or if they just recognize their Sergeant-at-Arms and don’t want to tempt his wrath.
Maybe it’s a bit of both, because Ark is waiting on the front steps with a bunch of legacy members.
He’s the first to approach, his hand squeezing Wings’ shoulder as we dismount our bikes.
He murmurs something in his ear that has Wings’ smiling and nodding, but as soon as we’re all on our feet, his gaze finds mine, and I have to swallow around the dryness in my throat.
The aroma of grape bubblegum rises around me, mingling with engine exhaust, fresh paint, and Ark’s own heady leather scent.
He wants you here.
Even if his brow furrows as I take my duffel off my bike. “That’s all you brought?”
I square my chin. “For now.”
He gnaws on his lip for a moment but then nods, holding out a hand to take my bag from me.
I hesitate, but I’m not about to start a tug-of-war with the president on his own clubhouse steps.
“I’m trying not to overwhelm you,” he says quietly as he hitches my duffel over his shoulder.
“I want everyone to know that you’re here at my invitation, but we have close to eighty members now, and I didn’t think you’d want to meet them all at once. ”
“Hell no.” I shudder just at the thought of so many eyes on me. “This is good.”
“Well, thanks for coming.” His other hand skims my arm, what probably looks like a casual touch to those gathered around us, but my skin prickles with awareness. “I better step back and let Glory and Tricks at you before they tackle me out of the way.”
I smirk, but the next moment I’m engulfed in Glory’s embrace, Tricks beaming at me from the alpha’s side. “You’re back,” Glory breathes, holding me tight enough to feel the relief in her embrace. “You’re wanted here, farfallina. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
I nod, sharing a quick hug with Tricks, who exclaims over my vintage Siouxsie and the Banshees tee, but then pouts at my lack of luggage. “What happened to those packing boxes?”
I nod over my shoulder at Wings. “I brought the most important thing, didn’t I?”
“You did. Thanks for that.” Her face softens as she grabs Wings, ruffling his hair, even though she has to stand on the tips of her high-heel boots to do it.
While the siblings get reacquainted, I look around at the other club members gathered on the steps.
There are a few faces I recognize, including Feeder, a mechanic who used to hang out with my dad in the workshop, arguing the merits of a Fat Boy over a Road King.
“Your mom would be so happy to know you’re back with us,” his mate, Lynn, says as she envelopes me in a frangipani hug. She’s totally gray now, with deeper lines around her eyes, but she seems genuinely happy to see me. “And looking so beautiful. A mirror-image of Sienna, but with Robert’s eyes.”
As much as I’ve prepared for it, hearing my parents’ names out loud is jarring, and I give her a tight smile. “Thanks. It’s good to see you again, Lynn.”
It’s all I can offer, and Pitt must sense it, because he takes a step closer to me, his hand brushing my lower back.
I catch a glimpse of his set jaw and realize that while Ark might have planned for this to be lowkey, other members are drawing closer, curious about the welcoming party.
There are plenty of surprised looks, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m back in the clubhouse or because Wings has reappeared as an omega with a calming bite on his throat.
I hear a few muttered questions, but Pitt doesn’t give them a chance to get any closer, herding us upstairs and through the front door.
“Not so bad, right?” Wings asks, as I tuck my hand tightly in the crook of his arm.
I nod, because we’re right on Ark’s heels, Tricks and Glory promising to meet me later as they head off towards the kitchen.
I catch a whiff of something that smells like apple pie, but we don’t stop as Ark leads us up a huge mahogany staircase.
“This is one of two ways to the residential floors,” Ark tells me over his shoulder. “Both are off-limits for non-members.” He stops abruptly at the first landing and frowns down at me. “I mean it’s secure. Not that any of your guests would be unwelcome.”
“You’re looking at my guests,” I tell him, nudging Wings with my hip.
“Okay.” His gaze bounces to Pitt and back, but then he heads up the next set of stairs.
I try to keep my gaze off his broad back, but it’s hard with it right there in front of me.
He’s wearing his cut, like every other fully patched club member, but the bottom of his tee is caught in the waistband of his jeans, and I find my fingers itching to reach out and tug it free.
My gaze flicks up to his well-worn collar, pulled tight against the nape of his neck.
He rubs a hand over it, like he can feel my stare, and the tiny golden hairs glint against his dark tan.
Are they as soft as they look, or would they prickle the tips of my fingers?
Despite my issues with the club, I always loved the Flyers’ emblem, and it’s not lost on me how good the flaming wings look inked on his thick neck…
I startle when he suddenly turns back to me on the second landing. “You didn’t say if you wanted your own room or to stay with Wings.”
“Oh.” I glance at Pitt, who looks like he’s chewing on the edge of a smile. “Well, there’s three of us,” I tell Ark. “Does that qualify us for a pack suite?”
Pitt goes still beside me, but Ark swings to stare at his Sergeant-at-Arms. “Three?”
“Ah, it’s new.”
Pitt’s tone is only a shade off an apology, and I frown. If we’re really welcome back here, shouldn’t we get to decide where we sleep? “Three,” I repeat, tipping up my chin. “Is that going to be a problem?”
Ark’s nostrils flare, and I wonder if he’s already regretting this reunion. I open my mouth to tell him I’m fine back in my apartment when the shutters come down over his eyes, but not before they rake across my face, hot as coals. “There’s an empty suite down here.”
He turns and strides down the hall and Pitt’s hand slides along the small of my back, brushing the skin above my waistband. When I lean into him, he grins. “Thanks for including me, butterfly.”