Chapter Fourteen ABBIE
I don’t know if Ark’s words are meant to feel like a gift or a burden, but I carry them with me through the next couple of days, turning them over and over in my head.
I’m honest enough to admit that Ark was my first alpha crush, and that somewhere in my teenage dreams, I thought we might have a future together.
But that dream didn’t survive the ashes of the boardinghouse, and once I was free, I buried all thoughts of alphas and bonds down deep.
Until Wings turned up with Pitt’s calming bite on his throat, I assumed it would always be just the two of us.
That somehow, we’d make a life for ourselves, and the Iron Flyers – and Arkin Wallace - would only exist as a faded memory in my past.
But now they’re very much in my present, and I can’t ignore Ark’s words, even if I wanted to: It’s always been about you, Abbie.
Just before noon, my head is throbbing, so I retreat to the greenhouse.
As I push the door open, I’m greeted by a mist of cooling water, and I tip my head back to catch the moisture on my hot cheeks.
All the green things smell so much more potent in here, and as I move slowly between the rows, I inhale the scent of wet earth and citrus blossoms. Lyla showed me how to gently shake the tomato and pepper plants to release more pollen, how to water right at the roots of the salad plants, and how to check the strawberries in their garden boxes, so they don’t get parched or waterlogged.
I putter around for a while, peeking under leaves at the glistening fruit and counting the beans and snap peas on their trellises, when I see a shadow move against the wall.
The greenhouse is made of tempered glass, and with all the moisture on the panes, I shouldn’t be able to recognize the figure on the other side.
It could be Lewis or Benz, Lyla’s regular helpers, but I know it’s not them, even before I catch the outline of broad shoulders and long dark hair.
“Bluff.” He’s not trying to hide, but he’s not coming closer, either. Just standing on the other side of the greenhouse and staring back at me, as if I’m exactly where he expected me to be. “Wait there. I’m coming out.”
“No.” His voice is muted through the glass, but it still stops me in my tracks. “Stay there. I just… I wanted to see you.”
Anger sizzles over my skin, along with the familiar sting of rejection. “And if I want more? Are you going to command me to stay away again?”
“That was shitty.” He lifts a hand, pressing it to the glass. “I’m sorry, Abigail. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Okay, but how about you come say it to my face?”
“I can’t. Because what I did was fucked up, but for the right reasons.”
Frustration leaks through the air, or maybe it’s just my own emotions, projecting. “Taking someone’s choices away is never okay.”
He pauses, his head dipping lower. I can sense he’s in pain, but it’s fuzzy, just like the image of him through the water-streaked glass. “It’s just better if we keep a wall between us.”
“Why?” He doesn’t answer, and I step closer, straining to make out his features.
He looks pale, the scar on his cheek a raw, ragged line, although that could just be the distortion of the glass.
It’s almost worse than not seeing him at all, and I can feel panic starting to swirl in my hindbrain.
He’s going to run again. “We’re scent matches. At least admit that much.”
He rests his head against his raised arm, but there’s no mistaking the way his shoulders slump. “My scent receptors are fucked up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I smell things that aren’t there. Blood and smoke, mostly, but sometimes things as simple as coffee or bacon. Other times, I can be standing at the counter in a diner, and I can’t smell anything at all.”
The loss that spears through me is so visceral, I gasp. “Are you saying…?”
“Can't smell that manure pile over there, but I can smell you, even through this glass.” He pauses, his head tilting, and I’m certain his dark eyes are boring into mine. “Peaches and cloves, right?”
I nod, but my heart is still skipping over itself, and I have to steady myself against the rack of plants beside me.
“Then what’s the problem?” Whatever he’s hiding, whatever demons he’s grappling with, I don’t care.
I just want to spend time with him. Smell him up close and thread my fingers through his, so I can taste him on my skin.
It’s a yearning so deep, I can feel it like a bruise deep in my chest. “Just go somewhere with me. Anywhere. Right now.”
He’s already shaking his head. “I can’t do that. Ark would never let us out the gate.”
I’m tempted to hammer my fist on the glass. “It’s not his call. And why would he want to stop us, anyway?”
Bluff snorts. “Have you seen his back? Your matching ink isn't a coincidence, butterfly.”
The nickname is soft on his tongue, and I want to close my eyes so it can soak into my skin.
But I can’t shake the reality of our situation, either.
Bluff is Ark’s friend. His brother-in-arms, and the man he wants to make VP.
Do I really want to wedge myself between them?
And would Bluff even let me, given he’ll only talk to me through a goddamn glass wall?
“So, what?” I almost spit the question, anger and hurt clear in my tone.
“We just pretend like we never met? Go back to our lives, scent match be damned?” He goes still, his body suddenly as tense as a wire, and I step closer until my breath fogs on the glass.
“And what happens when I go into heat, Bluff? You planning on climbing a drainpipe and watching me through the window?” His nostrils flare, and I smile, because now he gets the picture.
“You’ll smell me then, and nothing else will matter.
You won’t be able to stop yourself from claiming me. So why fight it now?”
He drops his head back against his arm. “Because you deserve better.”
“Don’t I get to judge that?”
He makes a low, grinding sound in the back of his throat. An animal trapped, or a man frustrated that he can’t have what he wants? “You’re not seeing things clearly. You don’t know me at all.”
“Exactly!” I want to throw my hands up, but if this is a victory, it feels like it’s still slipping through my fingers.
“We haven’t had a chance to get to know each other yet.
But give it time, and you’ll see that I have a few flaws of my own.
” His lips tilt up a fraction, and I press my own hand to the glass, fitting my fingers against his. “Just give this a chance.”
“How?”
I swallow, my mind racing. Every instinct is telling me to pull him in here, to get the up-close connection that my senses are craving.
But I have to take things slow. I have to convince him that the only barriers are the ones he’s put between us.
“Let’s go talk to Ark together. He still wants you to be his VP, after all. He might think this is good news.”
He’s quiet for a moment and I think he’s considering it until he shakes his head. “He wants the old me, not the one who got his brain scrambled in the desert.”
I don’t need to scent him to know how badly he’s hurting. “I’m sorry that happened to you, but I think you should give Ark more credit.”
But he’s already pushing off the wall, his hand raking through his hair as he turns away. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you need, Abigail.”
“Wait!” I scramble for the door, almost tripping over my own feet in my haste.
A wet palm frond slaps me in the face, and I curse as I try to navigate the pots and racks that I was admiring only minutes ago.
But now they’re standing between me and Bluff, and I groan in frustration as I finally fling the door open.
I don’t need to look very hard to know that he’s already gone.
Fuck. I circle the greenhouse, anyway, staring down at his boot prints in the soil. I think I can still catch a whiff of his scent on the air, but it’s probably just wishful thinking, because he was right about the manure pile.
Why the fuck did he even come here?
He got to see me, just like he wanted, but now he’s done?
I lurch away from the garden, too upset to tell Lyla I’m leaving.
My heart is hammering so hard, I can feel the blood rushing in my ears.
I have no idea how I’m putting one foot in front of the other, but I manage to make it back to our suite without tripping over them.
As soon as the door is closed behind me, I strip off my clothes, a whimper rising to my lips when I find Wings already in the shower.
I study him for a moment, my belly tightening as I watch the water cascade down his muscular back.
His head is bent, his blond hair plastered to his scalp as he slowly soaps his chest. “Can I come in?”
He brushes the back of his arm over his eyes, grinning at me through spiky lashes. “There’s always room for you, butterfly.”
I don’t even care that the water is lukewarm, because as soon as I slide in next to him, his arms slip around my waist, his mouth dropping to my neck. I can feel him growing hard against my thigh, and as I brush my nipples over his soapy chest, he makes a sound that’s close to a purr.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him about Bluff, but I swallow it back. Right now, I want to lose myself in Wings. No alphas, no scent matches, just the pair of us like it’s always meant to be.
“Your knees, Abbie,” he protests as I sink in front of him. But when I grip his thighs, nudging him back against the wall, he groans in defeat. “Okay, but only because you make me come so fast, it’s goddamn embarrassing.”
“It’s a compliment,” I tell him, leaning forward to lick the heated skin of his shaft.
I can already taste a hint of his pre-come and I chase another drop, kissing my way up to his swollen crown.
This is all I need. Wings’ perfect flavor on my tongue and his dove gray eyes gazing down at me, filled with adoration.