Chapter Fifteen ABBIE
As I get ready for Patch’s party later that night, there’s a sweet ache between my thighs, and I catch Wings’ gaze on me as I gingerly step into my denim skirt.
There’s no way I’m getting my swollen pussy into jeans, and he grins proudly, like he knows exactly how much of an impression he made on me.
Just clenching my thighs together sends another ripple of arousal through my core, and I huff as Pitt glances at me, his nose lifting to sniff the air.
“Are those sexy nerves or stress nerves?”
“Just a few butterflies,” I tell him, ignoring Wings’ cocky chuckle. “Are you on duty tonight?”
Pitt was gone most of the afternoon, working on security preparations for the party. “Yeah, but I’ll still come find you for a dance.” His mouth hooks into a wicked grin. “Assuming Wings’ cock didn’t knock the stuffing out of your legs.”
“Pitt!” I squawk, while the two men laugh at my red face. Assholes.
They’re saved from my retribution by an excited knock on the door. When I pull it open, Tricks’ eyes go wide and she shoots Wings’ a pained look. “Have you never heard of Febreze, bro? Can you at least crack a window?”
I laugh at the pained look on Wings’ face, then turn back to his younger sibling. “What’s up, Tricks? You want to come in?”
Her nose wrinkles in alarm. “No thanks. I’m just here to jazz up your outfit a little.”
She’s wearing a denim mini dress under her Iron Flyers cut, and bright pink fishnet stockings with her patent platform boots. Not an outfit that I’d ever think to put together, but she pulls it off, like always. “Well, yours is amazing.”
“Thanks! Now, if you don’t like it, I can make some adjustments, but I didn’t think you were ready for the full Flyers’ cut yet.
” She pulls a leather vest out from behind her back, turning it so I can absorb the full effect.
Instead of the club emblem, the back is embellished with red and gold sequins shaped into a familiar butterfly pattern, and I reach out to touch them in awe. “You like it?”
Pitt leans against the door, a brow cocked. “Kinda looks like Ark’s back tatt.”
“Does it?” Tricks’ eyes shine with innocence, before quickly narrowing into a sly grin. “There’s still room to put a property patch on there somewhere, if you’re ever interested.”
Pitt snorts, while Wings holds the vest so I can slip my arms into it. When he’s done, he gives Tricks an impressed look. “That’s outstanding work, little sis.”
“Creative genius runs in the family,” she replies, leaning forward to high-five him. She grins, then sniffs her palm with an exaggerated shudder. “Seriously, wash the horndog off, would you?”
She shoots me a wink, turning on her heel to strut down the hallway while the guys back me up against the door. Pitt braces an arm against the wood, while Wings’ nose slides along my throat. “You look good in leather, butterfly.”
I preen at the attention, but when Pitt’s fingers toy with the zipper on my skirt, I bat him away with a hiss. “You can look, but don’t touch. At least until I get the stuffing back into my legs.”
They’re still chuckling as we head downstairs, but my sexy nerves are quickly morphing into plain stressed-out ones.
Thankfully, my chaotic scent is engulfed in the fog of perfumes and pheromones drifting across the quad.
Everyone has dressed up for the party, which means there’s even more leather, denim, and bare flesh on display than usual.
Along with my new butterfly vest and denim skirt, I’m wearing my Docs for comfort, and I’ve styled my hair so that it hangs down my back in caramel-streaked waves.
Samson’s dog tags are tucked under my Riot Grrrl tank, and I grip them through the fabric as we’re swallowed by the crowd.
Pitt is called off on security business almost immediately, and I smile at his unhappy grimace.
It’s nice to be missed, especially since I’m feeling so anxious about my upcoming discussion with Ark.
I have no idea how he’ll react to my scent match revelation, but if he decides he’s not going to support me, I’m not sure how else I’m going to make contact with Bluff again.
“Relax, Abbie,” Wings says in my ear, squeezing my hand. “Let’s say happy birthday to Patch and then find a quieter spot.”
I nod, following him over to a cooler where he grabs us a couple of vodka mixers.
The quad is decorated in club colors, red and gold balloons and bunting strung from the magnolia trees to the deck posts.
The pool is off-limits during adult parties, but someone has filled it with lotus blossoms and floating tealights, the candles gleaming like drops of starlight.
There’s a music station set up at the far end of the quad, a couple of prospects assigned to DJ duty.
Predictably, Steppenwolf is spilling from their speakers, and a few of the rowdier club members are already dancing under the string lights.
The press of competing sounds and warm bodies is hard on my raw nerves, and I stick close to Wings as he leads me over to Patch.
He’s sitting in pride of place on a wicker outdoor lounge, Glory tucked on one side and Lyla on the other.
When I catch their eyes, they both leap up, hugging me tight and inviting me to sit with them.
I shake my head, since plenty of other people are clamoring for their attention, and pass Patch the gift I hastily wrapped in a velvet pouch.
“He’d want you to have this. Happy birthday, Patch. ”
He opens it curiously, his eyes widening as he cradles my dad’s diving watch.
It’s one of only a handful of things I inherited from Samson, but I know it has sentimental value to Patch, who was deployed with my dad when he bought it in Japan.
I watch a myriad of emotions play across his face, and a moment later, I’m swept off my feet into a smoky bourbon and mint-scented bear hug.
“Thank you, Baby Bee,” he says when he pulls back, a sheen of tears in his eyes. “But won’t you miss it?”
I miss my dad a lot, but it’s never been for physical possessions. “It’s not like I don’t know where to find you,” I tell him with a shaky grin, stepping back to make room for the next well-wisher, but Patch grabs my wrist, holding me close. “Can we talk? I need to explain about that night…”
“Ark told me,” I say quietly. “He said it was his decision to sedate me.”
“Well, he’s not being truthful about that.” He rubs his beard, his eyes full of regret. “It was my recommendation. I believed sedation was the safest route for everyone.”
I stiffen, bristling with old resentment. “How, Patch? I was scared, not dangerous.” Someone jostles me and I hear Wings growl, his back pressing protectively against mine. “It wasn’t like I was going to start a riot. No one other than Wings gave two shits about my leaving.”
“You really think that?” He stares at me, incredulous.
“Glory was inconsolable when she heard. If she was there that night, she would’ve fought the lot of us to keep you.
” I shrug, because the fact she’d have had to fight at all is what hurts the most. “But mostly I did it for Ark.” His voice drops, soft with sympathy.
“It killed him to let you go, Baby Bee. Never doubt what he’s been prepared to do to himself to keep you safe. ”
I stiffen, and Wings’ arm slides back around my waist. “We should find that quiet spot,” he says into my ear. “Have a great party, brother.”
He claps Patch on the shoulder, pausing to murmur something in his ear, but my gaze is on Ark as he moves through the crowd, checking on the festivities.
I watch other alphas step out of his way, careful not to touch him as he brushes by, tall and imposing in his president’s cut.
A few slap him on the back, or stop him for a quick chat, but most stay out of his way, and the lack of contact makes me sad.
Is this what his life has been? Respect and brotherly affection, but only from a distance?
I pluck a beer from a nearby cooler and walk over to him, watching him tense as he catches sight of me. He isn’t shy about studying my outfit, and I twirl slowly, letting him get the full effect of the butterfly design. “Tricks gave it to me.”
“She always had an eye for beauty.”
I smile and hand him the beer, clinking our bottles together. “You throw a good party, Pres.”
“If I throw it, I don’t have to be it,” he mutters with a strained smile.
As he takes a sip of his beer, his eyes slide over me again, and he reaches out to scoop the dog tags from under my tank.
“The vest is good, but it’s not a Flyers’ cut, so you should leave these out.
” I look at him curiously, and darkness swirls in the depths of his eyes.
“Some of the guests might overstep if they think you’re available. ”
“Maybe you should stick close by then,” I tell him lightly. “The president of the Iron Flyers is probably a little more intimidating than my brother’s dog tags.”
He blinks, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he says, “I’ll be watching you all night, same as always.”
I nod, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him about his elusive VP.
The longer I hold it back, the worse the secret burns, but the way he’s looking at me makes the words dissolve on my tongue.
Am I asking for his help with Bluff, or his blessing?
Will he be happy to hear that we’re scent matched, or will he only see the barriers, and all the reasons it might be bad for the club?
But mostly I want to know what it will mean to him.
Will he be jealous of the connection we have, or will he shrug it off, stepping back before we’ve even had a chance to explore what might be between us?