The last thing I remember was seeing Beau on the club’s security cameras. I’m not at the club anymore.
Beau isn’t here. Trev and the others are gone. The sun is up, so it’s been at least twelve hours since I blacked out. Maybe even several days. I don’t know yet.
Dream is here.
I’m following her like a creep.
I feel fucking possessed—probably am. Possessed by a dreamy Omega.
How is she missing the dangerous criminal stalking her?
I snarl at the thought of someone other than me following her like this. Reckless Dream.
I don’t recognize this street. Not that I recognize much of the outside world when it isn’t through a screen. Dream moves through life like she’s never been hurt, like she’s never seen the horrors of this world, but I know she has. I can see it in her eyes, like when she looks at Beau. It’s especially obvious when she’s with someone who’s been hurt before. Wounded, inside and out. She sees their scars and is glad they match her own.
Does it make her feel less alone?
Dream walks down the street, headphones in, nodding her head to the music. Her hips sway, and my heart starts to race. She’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful.
Seeing her holding Beau? Shit, it was too much.
Why doesn’t she do anything to protect herself? Doesn’t even check over her shoulder for signs of danger. No weapons either, as far as I can tell. Wait…she’s still got the ring I gave her on her thumb.
A strange rumble starts in my chest, startling me. An inexplicable need to keep her safe overwhelms my senses. This ishow I felt about Beau, once. Before I was ripped away from my life and my freedom.
I should grab her. Show her how easy of a target she’s making herself. Her scent spikes, and I get my first real, deep breath of it. Rose petal heaven.
Should toss her over my shoulder and?—
“You know, if you’re going to follow me so closely, you could at least offer to keep me company on my walk,” Dream says, popping one of her earbuds out as she glances back at me over her shoulder. “Where have you been the last fifteen hours, Trigger?”
“Trigger?” I frown.
“Your nickname. Trigger-Happy. Don’t worry, I’m still working on it. Stabby is probably more accurate, but it doesn’t sound as cool. Stab-Happy is closer, but I can’t call you Stab for short. Sounds like scab. And Happy isnotthe right word to describe you.” She shrugs as she stops and turns to face me. “No offense. Like I said, it’s a work in progress.”
I stare at her, shocked she noticed me and more than a little surprised that she called me out for following her.
“I suppose Stalker would also suit you.”
“Better than Stabby,” I grunt, and I’m rewarded with a smile.
“You okay?” she asks, tone gentle as she takes in the sight of me from head to toe. Curious about what she’s seeing, I look down.
I’ve changed since last night. The clothes are clean, and I don’t stink. I must’ve gone back to my temporary home at some point. Ithinkthese are mine, anyway. I give my shirt a curious sniff—shit, my mask is missing.Thankfully, it seems I remembered scent blockers at some point.
What would she think of my scent? Would she like it? Do I want her to like it?
Yeah, I really fucking do.
“Probably.” I shrug, looking back up at her. “Was about to grab you.” Not sure why the confession slips out. It’s definitely not helping her see me as a safe Alpha to be around.
“Yeah, I got that vibe. My instincts are pretty strong.” She props her hand on her hip, lifting a brow at me like she’s waiting for an apology.
Not happening, my naughty dream girl.
“Hmm.”It’s good that she noticed. Maybe she’s better at protecting herself than I assumed. Then again, maybe not. “How long have I been following you?” I ask since I can’t remember.
“Starting to think it’s been a little while. I got this feeling I was being watched last night. I wasn't sure why, since I was alone in my house.” She watches me carefully, her accusation very clear. I do know where she lives. I know where all the employees at Haze live. “The same feeling followed me to the gym this morning. Now, here we are, face-to-face, and you just admitted to nefarious intentions. Want to explain, bad boy?”
