Chapter 21
21
Dante
T he elevator doors open, and my brain short-circuits.
There’s a lie in that. My brain started short-circuiting when she walked out this morning.
Or maybe the truth is that everything I thought I knew got thrown out the window when I first saw her. Because the only thing that makes sense is her.
I wear her fears like a jacket.
Her worries and anxiety keep me grounded like a focal point.
Because her scent is a drug full of soaring highs and sweeping lows.
I want to explore her. Every fucking broken inch of her. Only after I lend her my strength and pledge her my loyalty. I’ll lie down at her feet and do anything she needs, so where she came from is but a vague memory, because nothing else matters.
Her.
Her with me.
Her with me, as part of my pack.
I want to shake her stupid for ever doubting her strength and survival skills. Even now, with me chasing her on the razor’s edge of an Alpha rage or rut, my sweet Omega has the insight to turn off the lights to our gym but to also try to lure me in the wrong direction.
Layne might have lain a trap by throwing her gym tights in one corner, her shoes in the other, but I’ve latched on to her on a deeper, primal level.
“Slow your breathing,” I school her, my jaw clenched, so it comes out like another bark. But not a bark based on aggression or anger, because I seriously doubt my Alpha could ever conjure an argument against her. Everything inside me has been rewired, and as corny as it sounds, all I can do is be a better person. Though that insight comes with another— I will burn anyone who comes at her .
A small, breathy laugh comes from exactly where I knew she was—perched up on my weight bench, her feet off the mat, giving her the most avenues of escape.
Except, she doesn’t want to escape. It’s why she came back. Layne isn’t stupid. She’s intelligent as fuck, with instincts and insight to rival my own. She likely spent the day sorting through a million different scenarios and what-ifs, but she didn’t leave, she couldn’t, because deep down, she knows we’re meant to be together.
“Come here,” I say after dropping to my knees in the middle of the mat. I have to, though. I need her to come to me, or the risk is we’ll both question if we got caught in the moment, or if the moment got caught in us. “Close your eyes, il mio tutto , and trust how safe you are with me.”
She sighs softly, a touch resigned, and climbs to her feet, dragging her bare feet purposely over the floor.
“What does that mean?”
“ Il mio tutto ?” I ask quietly, still fighting an internal battle that is all about claiming her.
She waits until she’s kneeling in front of me, our knees close enough to touch, before she confirms with a soft “yes.”
“My all,” I admit. I probably should sew my fucking mouth shut, the way I love spilling secrets and sharing truths with her.
I open my eyes, and she’s in front of me, her eyes downcast.
Her submission is like a punch in the chest, a shot through my heart. It pinballs around my veins before it rips out the back of my head. Changing me again. Even though her past has been feasting on her fears, and even though it’s been no time at all since we found each other, on a simpler level, she already knows deep inside who I am. Hers.
I blow out a loud sigh, and the feral intensity shifts one hundred and eighty degrees. My hands shake as I rest them on the tops of my thighs. With every cell in my body, I want to reach out and touch her, to claim her, but first, we need to reclaim more of her.
I drag over the bottle of liniment I had ready and waiting. Getting her here was always going to happen. Me chasing her sweet ass was always going to happen too. It just happened sooner than I thought. Sooner than I even hoped.
“Lie down,” I demand. But it’s controlled, and without the cutting edge of aggression. “I want to check your ribs and massage them.”
“Oh.” She rolls over to face me immediately, like a kitten.
“Put this arm out in front”—I guide her with surprisingly steady hands—“and then this one over your head. You need to be honest and let me know if it hurts or if I rub too hard.”
Layne holds the position, and the breathy sigh from before when I called her over increases when I run my hand over her warm skin. Of course, she feels like silk, and I barely start massaging and she’s groaning softly.
“It feels better. I ran about five miles, so it aches, but it’s not holding me back anymore.”
“You got X-rays?”
“Yeah,” she answers, but I know she’s not telling the whole truth.
That’s okay. I read a report from a doctor who performed one of the examinations, so I know they found a hairline fracture. And I also know why she only shared one word, instead of giving me a detailed account of what happened.
“It must have hurt.”
She grits her teeth when I massage the bruised area harder, but it’s this, or the lactic acid will build up, and her recovery will be slower.
“Pain is relative. Besides, don't forget I’m an Omega. It’s the emotional fallout that scars.”
“Same for all of us. We just dissolve into violence instead of tears,” I murmur, before stretching out her ligaments by pushing her shoulder away and pulling her hip closer.
Her breathing hitches. Layne shuts her eyes and I can feel her responding under my hands. Her pulse beats in time with my silent countdown in my head. We get to ten, and I release the muscle stretch.
“How’s that?”
“I need a bath before I answer that.”
“Sit up.”
She rolls back up to sitting with a natural grace and immediately sits back in front of me on her knees, with her hands relaxed on her lap, her eyes down. Her conflict is obvious, her relaxed nature at odds with the sudden spike of anxiety making her pulse race.
It will always be my role to soothe and protect. But I probably need to explain that to her.
“You know, Layne,” I say, then clear my throat. Her scent is so thick and potent, it’s an alluring promise of sweet suffocation. “Submission is not being subservient and giving over your power to someone else. If it was, this would be a one-sided thing, but I was kneeling for you first. You hold the power, and you hold the reins. But let's not waste any more time fighting against this path we’re on.”
Her hands glide up my thighs. “Why did you chase me?”
Her question comes from left field, but I’m spinning in all directions, too, so I jump right on the same merry-go-round this very complex woman is riding.
“Didn’t you like it?” I ask, already knowing she did.
She laughs again, her breath blowing her sumptuous scent up and over my face. “Probably too much.”
“I knew you would,” I tease her lightly.
“And now? You don’t want to claim your prize?”
“I won when you walked into my house. You just didn’t realize.”
She rolls her eyes at me before trying to distract or throw me off my game, which is winning her over. “You’re not getting lost in lust and a primal frenzy? Maybe once you’ve had me, you’ll realize you got it all wrong.”
I shake my head. And then I have to squeeze my eyes shut and plant my hands under my thighs, so I don’t jump up and smash shit in a rage, based on nothing but the injustice I feel for her.
Then it is my turn to count to ten. The sudden surge of anger forces me to keep going up to fifty, trying to shove the tidal wave of aggression back into the tight hold I know I am capable of confining it to. The whole time, her fingers rub gently over my leg.
“You’re angry,” she says.
“I’m working my way through it, planning all the ways we’re going to take back what other assholes have stolen from you.”
She sighs. “There’s a long list.”
“That works. We’ve got forever.”
Layne pushes. “Do we?”
“You tell me.”
Instead of hiding away, she raises her chin in challenge. “We were fake one minute, and now?”
“Not so fake,” I answer immediately.
“Aren’t we going too fast?”
I shake my head vehemently, not breaking the way our eyes are locked. “There’s no one in this world that gets to tell us if we’re speeding into this too fast or too slow. If they want to write their own romance, I’m not fucking stopping them. This thing of ours is just that—ours.”
I only just manage not to beat my chest in Alpha conviction.
Layne one-ups me in natural responses, but also because I suspect she knows this sizzling and dynamic connection we share is only the start of our story. She crawls over the space, climbing up to rest against my chest, drawing her feet up to sit on the tops of my thighs, using me like a recliner. Her head falls, the angle meaning I get to watch her as she closes her eyes and breathes in deep. “I’m tired, Dante. I’ve been running for so long, I don’t know how to stop.”
“I’ll add it to our grueling schedule.”
“We’ve got a schedule?” Her eyes pop open.
“Yeah. We do. From now until we’re both too old to stand. We’ve got crowns and law degrees to reclaim, along with a big fuck-off list of wrongs to right.”
“Won’t I get in the way?”
I laugh, and her hair blows around her face. “I mean, you might, but you’re small enough for me to pick up and put you somewhere safe.”
She glares at me.
“Although, if we fix your posture, maybe you could be our little sharpshooter. Every king needs a lethal queen.”
She laughs, and it vibrates through my chest. “You’re so sure, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. I am. It’s pretty much why we married you, actually.”
Layne sits up straight, nearly whacking her head under my chin. “Ha!” She holds her hand up, wiggling her finger. “Only engaged.”
“About that.” I growl before I show her exactly how fast, and how strong I can be in the blink of an eye. Gently, of course. I pin her down, and I’m shaken by how good she looks under me.
She growls, “I said no more about that!” Her lip curls up and shows me lots of teeth.
“Not to me you didn’t.” I dip down lower, rubbing my nose over hers, to distract myself from kissing the living shit out of her. I nearly falter even more when I share with her what’s running through my thoughts. “Fuck, the things I want to do to your mouth. But for now…” I use my knees to keep her pinned under me, like a butterfly, before I dig into my sweatpants, finding what I need.
Catching her hand, I ease my beloved grandmother’s engagement ring off her finger that she herself put back on before staring into Layne’s caramel-colored eyes. I’ve never seen someone’s eyes change so much; with the smallest of emotions, they melt or harden. Right now, they’re pools of heated, molten caramel. “Make me the happiest Alpha?”
“Do I have a choice?” she grumbles, but her lips are twisting as she tries not to roll her eyes.
“You didn’t the first time. Sometimes in life you need a little push, so consider this one of those times. Marry me, though I guess it’s us. Marry us, Layne?”
She pushes her hand up expectantly.
“See, we were inevitable. Me having this wedding band waiting for you, and you letting me put it on all but confirms it too.” And the platinum band glides down her finger before I lock it in position with her engagement ring.
I get stuck looking at how good it looks until I feel a pinch on my thigh. Well, an attempted pinch. I look down at her.
“You’re supposed to kiss the bride,” she says with a pout.
The way she tugs on her bottom lip is distracting, but instead of giving in to the temptation, I jump to my feet, holding my hand out for her. She leaps up, standing in front of me, then I lean down and brush my lips over hers. I step away.
The look of fury bubbling in her caramel eyes has me laughing this time.
“Don’t you laugh at me.”
I throw my hands up in surrender at her foot stomping.
“Trust me, I want nothing more than to kiss you here…” I start at the top of her head, then inch down her body, pointing out all the places I want to kiss. “But you’re exhausted. I think you’ve had a hell of a day, and we should finish it back in the kitchen, where it all started. With the rest of our pack.”
She looks off over my shoulder before her eyes return to my face. Her lips are back to being seductively teasing. “And what will I wear?”
I do what any self-respecting Alpha who just got married does, and I rip my sweats down, before I get back on my knees and wait for her to climb into my sweats.
“Want me to carry you down too?”
The way she stares at my body does way too much to my already blazing ego. I feel her eyes inching up my bare legs, lingering on my thighs, before she tips her head in interest when she checks out my junk. Which she does because her eyes fly to mine before she shrugs quickly before she goes back for another look. Kinda glad I wore my white boxers, so she can see everything clearly. I’m also glad they’re small and only just have enough room for my hard cock.
My wife fucking hums before she climbs up into my arms, looking smug as a bug. Which only confirms she’s had a crazy day, all the fights and mood swings physical proof. As is my dick that nudges against her ass as I carry her out of the gym and back down.
“I actually half thought you weren’t interested.”
Maybe I flex a bit more than necessary, so she can feel for herself how interested I am.
“I’ve spent so much time thinking about you, I’ve been jerking off any chance I get.”
“I thought you were doing Mafia stuff.”
“I can multitask. You know that, right?”