Chapter 14 #2
It feels like a lifetime before the last student is out before I can grab my things and head out, locking the classroom behind me.
When I’m in the hall, I pause, wondering what I’m going to do next? Do I try to find them, to see if everything is okay. Do I text the group chat and check in?
It all feels weird. I don’t know how to handle this. Is this even something that’s any of my business?
Yes. He's my alpha and I want to know what's wrong.
Deciding to text the group chat, I pull out my phone as I walk towards my office.
I’m just bringing up the chat when I hear Jamie’s voice.
“Aww. Tater Tot is pissy because he’s not getting any loving from his omega.” Jamie taunts before I hear him grunt. “Fuck, that hurt,” he rasps out.
“Next time it’s going to be your fucking balls if you don’t shut up. Better yet, I’ll put a fucking cock cage on you.”
“Wow. Now, now. No need to go that far. I’ll be a good boy,” Jamie grumbles.
“Enough.” Alaric’s authoritative voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“It’s fucking bullshit.” Tatum growls. “Why do you two get to know what it feels like to be with our fucking omega and I don’t?”
“Maybe he just likes us better.” Jamie chuckles. “Maybe if you pulled the cock out of your ass, you would be more approachable. Or, you know what, maybe you need more cock in your ass. That would probably help with the little bitch boy attitude.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you.” Tatum snarls and I hear someone making a choking sound.
“Harder, Daddy.” Jamie gasps out laughing.
“Let him go.” Alaric growls. “If you want to take your frustrations out on someone, I’ll put you down tonight for a fight.”
A fight? What the hell does he mean by that?
“Good. Because I really fucking need one to get out all this pent up energy,” Tatum mutters. “Before I kill someone. Or one of you.”
“Be careful," Alaric warns. “Don’t get too dinged up.”
“No promises.” Tatum chuckles. “I’m feeling a little bloodlust coming my way.”
The sound of footsteps retreating has me stepping around the corner to see them heading towards the exit.
Tatum is going to fight? Fight who?
I don’t like the idea of Tatum putting himself at risk. Is he a part of some underground fight club?
Fuck. I bet he is. I wouldn’t put it past them.
As they step outside, I do something I know I shouldn’t and walk right past my office and out the same door my alphas just left.
When they get to their house, I drive by, not wanting them to know I’ve followed them.
Okay, so they all went home. Maybe Tatum changed his mind.
Doing a loop around, I head back the way I came. But instead of going home, I park my car off to the side.
Maybe I should go over. I’ve never been to their place. Would they want me there?
I mean, I’m already here. Why not?
As I’m debating with myself on what to do, I see a car in my rearview mirror. Fuck. It’s theirs.
My heart races as I wait for the car to pass, seeing if he noticed me. When he doesn’t slow down or stop and turns right, I wait a few moments before I pull off into the street and follow.
First, he goes to his father’s place, then a warehouse I have no idea what it’s used for, then to a fast food place.
We’re two hours in of me following him like a fucking stalker when I realize he’s probably just out doing errands.
It’s dark now and I should really be getting home.
But as he takes off again, I can’t help but follow.
“Fuck.” I groan, pulling out into the main street, making sure to stay a few cars behind.
The further we get, the more worried I become. It’s not until we start to head out of town that I get this gut sinking feeling he’s fighting tonight after all.
My suspicions are confirmed when he pulls up to another warehouse. Only this one isn’t abandoned. Cars fill the parking lot and people come and go. I follow in a few seconds later, parking my car on the far end of where he ends up parking his.
I watch as Tatum gets out and heads inside.
“Now what the fuck am I going to do?” I sigh, leaning my head against the steering wheel.
This is so stupid. I shouldn’t even be here. It’s none of my business how they choose to spend their time. It’s their lives. Not mine. I have no say.
But the idea of him going in there and possibly getting hurt makes me sick to my stomach.
Lifting my gaze, I stare at the building for a good half hour before I finally make my decision to go inside.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I mutter to myself.
Thankfully, I blend in, dressed in dark jeans and a black hoodie. My hair is messed up from running my hands through it far too many times and I’m glad I put my contacts in this morning, because my glasses would probably draw attention.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I nod at the doorman before slipping inside.
My nose wrinkles as the smell of sweat, alpha pheromones, and blood hits me.
It’s loud in here, the sounds of music and shouting mingling together. This place is packed and I have to force myself from turning around and leaving right now.
Part of me knows I don’t belong here, but the other part of me says that's stupid because my father is one of the most powerful and deadly men around. These people might not be able to recognize me, but I have no doubt they would know my name.
I look around, trying to catch any glimpse of Tatum, but it’s like finding a needle in a haystack. He could be anywhere.
After making my way around this level, I try downstairs.
The music fades, replaced with the sound of people screaming and cheering.
When I get to the bottom, I see it. The ring in the middle of the room. This space is just as big as upstairs, only it’s filled with people watching two men beat the shit out of one another.
I watch as the two of them move around the ring, throwing punches and kicks. I’m drawn in, finding myself interested until I see that one of the men is Tatum. My alpha.
His shirt is off, only dressed in a pair of workout shorts. His hair is covered in sweat, blood dripping from his nose and busted lip.
My heart stops, my eyes widening. A fierce protectiveness takes over me and I find myself walking towards the ring, like a moth drawn to a flame.
He lets out a manic laugh as the other guy throws a punch and misses. But Tatum doesn’t.
I pause, transfixed again for a whole new reason as I watch my alpha become a fucking beast. He’s done messing around and is in it to win now.
He lets himself go, blow after blow until the other guy hits the ground. Tatum stands there, chest heaving as he wipes the blood off his nose.
When the other guy doesn't get up, the whole room cheers as Tatum lifts his arms up in victory.
A man comes out onto stage and says something to him. Tatum laughs and gives the guy a hug before nodding and getting off the platform.
What the fuck was that? And why the fuck is my cock so damn hard watching him unleash like that?
And who the fuck was that person who touched my alpha and does he have a death wish?
I might not enjoy killing, but it doesn't mean I won’t if I have to. And I think someone touching what’s mine is a very good fucking reason.
I watch as Tatum heads through the crowd, people cheering and calling after him until he disappears towards the back.
Knowing damn well I should leave, but not listening to any voice of reason inside my fucked up brain, I follow after him.
Let’s hope he likes me enough not to kill me when he finds out I’ve been following him all night.
TATUM
The high of beating the shit out of someone in front of an audience, and winning, is incredibly addictive. The adrenaline makes me feel almost dizzy as I walk with a grin to the locker room.
Fighting is rarely personal for me. It’s more a release valve for my anger. I’m high strung as it is, and Beckham refusing to give me the time of day is pissing me off.
When I’m angry, I get really petty, and that’s reflected in my behavior during my last class with him. Would I have shown that dirty sketch I drew to the class?
Absolutely not. Beckham didn’t know that though, which is why I used it to rile him up. Everything has to be on his schedule, and the way he wants.
It’s fucking with me, because my other pack mates have had their time with him. It makes me feel unwanted.
Is it possible Beckham doesn’t want me? Am I going to be forced to watch him with my best friends while I’m forgotten?
Dragging my fingers through the tangle of my dark curls, I have to force myself not to ask my dad for another fight. He’d do it because he knows I’m struggling. I just know it’ll cost me a very uncomfortable conversation.
He’s worried about me, and I know Jamie and Alaric are as well. I feel like I’m fucking spiraling out of control, which makes me a liability. I need to lock my shit down.
My palm slaps against the door of the locker room as I push it open, ready to throw on my clothes and leave. I’ll shower at home, and hope that my bad mood gets better.
Otherwise, I might piss Alaric off and he’ll make me go for a run with him before fucking me against a tree. That actually doesn’t sound awful now that I think about it…
“Tatum.”
A clipped voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I blink owlishly as I see that Beckham is standing there with his arms crossed.
“Hmm. Apparently, if I think about you hard enough, you’ll appear. Fucking wonderful,” I mutter. “I’ll have to make sure not to make that mistake again.”
Pushing off my shorts, I make a point of mooning the fucker as I walk to my bag.
“Why…fuck me,” he groans out. When I glance up, his face appears tortured as he inhales deeply. “Aren’t you going to shower?”
“Nope. Alaric likes to lick the sweat off me when he sucks my cock,” I reply, watching for a reaction. I begin to unwrap my hands as I wait, flexing my fingers instinctively.
He’s dressed differently than usual, in a pair of jeans and a hoodie. I can see his cock straining against his zipper, and it makes me smirk as I stare at it.