35. Chapter 35
Chapter 35
Abby
We didn't go home.
Gage was scowling over his computer, back arched. His lips moved as he attempted to puzzle out the encryption on the new drive. Blue eyes flashed to me—for the fifth time—bright and intoxicating.
I was distracting Gage, and this time sitting next to him was making it worse. His desire vibrated down the bond, enticing me to come closer, drawing me in. It was like I was hypnotized, the bond whispering commands to me.
Closer. Get closer.
Gage was hard at work, doing exactly what we came here to do, and I was burning time. Twiddling my thumbs, trying not to pace because apparently these jeans were more flattering on my backside than I realized.
I rested my hip against the desk, my skin taking on that familiar feverish feeling. Was I actually having withdrawals from touching him?
A frisson of anxiety cut through the heat. How long did a mating frenzy last? How long before I felt like myself again?
“I’m going to go check the messages.” I stood abruptly, circling around the desk and giving myself space.
The expression on Gage’s face was so disappointed I almost laughed.
“Stay.” It sounded incredibly close to a whine, like the wolf was actually trying to speak through Gage’s voice.
“No.” I stepped into the doorway of the office, smiling as he leaned across the desk as if we were tethered by a literal rope and I was pulling it taut. “Focus on the drive. I’ll be right outside doing some work."
“Abby?”
I paused, feeling that same rope pulling against my momentum. “The elders can teach you to filter the bond when we go to Alaska.”
“Filter the bond?”
“Give you more control of what you share. You can turn the volume down on the emotions you send through the bond.”
I winced. Was he getting a clear, constant flow of my nervous moods? “Is it wrong to do that?”
“It’s healthy to. No one should have unfiltered access to your every feeling, even a mate.”
I rubbed my lips together. “Okay. That would be helpful.”
“Go ahead,” he said softly. The bond pinged with a twinge of disappointment.
I bolted. I didn’t want to feel his disappointment in me.
It was like a pressure lifted off me when I stepped out of the office and dropped into my own chair. I could still feel Gage there, a gentle tug at the periphery of my focus, but it wasn’t as intense.
Intense wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the bond, and everything that happened over the last two days. There was a lot to process, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to do that without exposing each thread of emotion to Gage.
I didn’t want him to worry, to dig into his insecurities anymore than I wanted to dig into mine. But I was still angry with him. Hurt and angry, and more than a little confused.
Until I knew what to do with those feelings, the best option was to distract myself. I reached for the phone on my desk, holding the receiver to my ear and punching in the number for the voicemail box. Before I could play the first message my cell phone began to buzz. I fished it out of my pocket, staring warily at the unknown number.
“Hello,” I breathed into the phone.
“Abby, it’s me.”
I clenched my teeth. “How did you get this number?” It was an effort to blank my mind, thinking of the most neutral facts I could about my ex-husband lest my sudden irritation alert Gage that David was still pestering me.
“Doesn’t matter.” His voice shook, probably still rattled after almost getting eaten. “I left your mom’s ring at the reception desk downstairs.” David exhaled weakly. “I really do need your help.”
“I—thank you. I’ll think about it.” I hung up before I let my too-forgiving heart make any stupid promises that I would regret.
The phone thumped on the desk as I placed it gingerly beside my keyboard. My lungs inflated slowly and tightly, not allowing quite enough breath in. I was only ten feet from the door, ten feet and three stories from one of my most treasured possessions.
The ring wasn’t worth much. A small princess cut diamond with a simple white gold band. It was the words engraved on the inside of the band that mattered most.
Always and forever.
Because my father meant those words when he gave her that ring. My parents died too young to prove it, but they were one of the few who would last. They were the reason I got married. The reason I was chasing a dream of family.
I choked down the sudden upwelling of grief as I realized my parents would never see my “always and forever.” They would never meet Gage, never know my children.
I fisted my hands, exhaling my determination as I pushed my phone back into my pocket and headed for the office door. Gage would flip if he knew I was going alone, but it wasn’t like I was leaving the building. Even on the weekends there was someone manning the front desk, monitoring the entrance and sending everyone through the metal detector.
I clicked my nail between my front teeth as I waited for the elevator, expecting a raging wolf to plow through the office door at any second and stop me. Peripherally I could feel Gage, agitated but focused, and I knew he was lost to the puzzle our mystery visitor left him. His ability to focus on his work—when I wasn’t distracting him—was unmatched.
Which made my mission a lot easier. I hadn’t taken a moment to myself since Gage burst through my apartment door, and I needed it. Even if I was happy with the bond, it was overwhelming.
Consuming.
Would I still be myself as the bond grew? Think my own thoughts and feel my own feelings? Right now, everything was Gage, Gage, Gage, and the obsession with him was taking up too much space in my brain.
I just needed a little distance. Ten minutes to go downstairs, make polite conversation, and sit with the still healing wounds that were smarting after talking to David.
The elevator dinged cheerfully. I stepped inside and pressed the lobby button.
Maybe it was my own instincts, or maybe it was some primal part of Gage seeping into me through the bond, but I knew the moment I stepped onto the ground floor that something was wrong.
The music playing through unseen speakers was too loud, the only noise in the open space. A blinking red light near the front door snagged my attention—the metal detector flashing a silent warning that someone was flagged.
Except there was no one in the lobby, and the front desk was suspiciously empty.
I scrambled backward, bolting for the elevator. The doors had already closed, the elevator making its way back to the second floor as some oblivious investment banker waited for his ride down. What were they even doing here on a Sunday?
Feet scuffed on the floor behind me. I whirled, seeing nothing but the black door that led to the stairwell. My heart pounded in my throat, sweat beading on my neck.
I ran, sneakers squeaking on the marble floors as I raced for the stairs faster than I knew was possible. My mind became a panicked jumble of white noise, only two clear thoughts ringing through the chaos.
Third floor and Gage.
I didn’t make it to the staircase. The cool metal of the door handle brushed my fingertips as a force crashed into me. An arm banded around my waist, yanking me off my feet as a second arm cinched around my throat. I couldn’t see who had me, couldn’t sense anything as silver dots danced in my vision.
With my last bit of momentum, I fingered my phone from my pocket, using my thumb to swipe across the bottom of the keypad. It slipped from my grasp, hitting the floor with a loud crunch.
There was a moment of struggle, the weakest movement as I kicked out at the person behind me, and then a black tunnel came charging at me, and I disappeared into the dark.