Oh, yeah? How is that working out for you, Omega?
The irony is like a sour taste I can’t swallow away, because despite all my training and experience, it seems that I’m just as helpless as the rest of my designation. An attractive alpha doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I curl up like a parched flower sunk into barren soil. An alpha who let me down wants to make amends, and I don’t know whether to sing from a mountaintop or scream into my pillow.
“Butterfly, if you don’t let me in, Pitt says he’s gonna take the hinges off the door.”
I drag my pillow away from my face and gasp out a snarl of indignation. “Tell Pitt he can take his screwdriver and… screw himself!”
Not exactly a sizzling retort, but I don’t need an alpha to go all dominant and protective right now. Not unless he’s a sweat-streaked stranger with eyes like midnight fire… Or the president of an MC who wants to chase me down and prove how much I mean to him…
Ugh.What the hell is wrong with me?
“Is that a serious question?” Pitt growls from the other side of the door, alerting me to the fact that I might be talking to myself on top of acting like a wilting flower. “Because I can’t answer that unless you let me in, sweetheart.”
I slide back against the headboard, my pillow pressed to my aching stomach. “Can’t you just pretend you didn’t hear me?”
“I’ve got pretty good at that lately, but my days of acting like I can’t hear through your door are over, butterfly.”
My mouth drops open, because this is clearly a reference to all the sex Wings and I have been having. Did I invite him to set up camp on my couch?No.But does he still feel perfectly at homecalling me out on my nocturnal noises?Obviously.“Goddamn fucking alphas…”
I toss the pillow aside and leap off the bed, stomping over to the door. The deadbolt is rock solid - probably because of Pitt and his handy screwdriver – and it takes me a couple of tries to get it to slide open. I’m panting and scowling by the time I’m staring into their worried faces. “I’m fine, see?” I turn my glare on Pitt. “Are you satisfied, Alpha?”
He jerks at the scathing note in my voice. “No. I’m not fucking satisfied when you look and sound like that.”
“Like what?” I peer down at myself, taking in my skinny jeans and rumpled tee. Okay. So, I have one boot on and the other one… elsewhere. “I’m fine.”
“Maybe,” Wings says soothingly, despite the sour edge to his scent, “butwe’renot. We’re worried about you, Abbie. Ark said you ran out of the clubhouse like the Red Demons were on your heels.”
I pull a face at the reference to an infamous MC that, according to rumor, were Satanists who ate their unsuccessful prospects. “Oh, you’ve all been swapping updates, have you?” Rejection-tinged rage washes over me and my boot-clad foot taps angrily on the floor. “What the hell am I, anyway? Your group project? A goddamn clubmission?”
Wings stares at me with mounting distress. “Butterfly, you know that’s not true…“
“Do I, Wings? I was convinced we just bumped into each other that day in the grocery store, but from what I hear, it was because Ark sent you to find me. You weren’t really looking for candy corn in June. You were looking forme!”
He blinks in the face of my anger. “Is that why you’re so upset?”
“Yes!” I back up, crossing my arms over that cold, empty spot in my chest. “I thought it was fate.” I give a bitter laugh that’sedging dangerously close to a sob. “How stupid am I? I thought we were meant to be together.”
“We were. Weare!”
“How do you know? Because it’s part of Ark’s master plan?” The fight leaks out of me at the hurt in his eyes. “I just need time to… think. Can you give me that, at least?”
“Yes, but…”
Shutting the door in their faces, I stagger towards my bed. I manage to kick off my boots and drop my jacket, but as I crawl into the tangled sheets, I flinch at the smell wafting up to greet me. Wings’ sweet chocolate scent is still there, but it’s overpowered by the sour stench of self-pity. The pillow I clutch to my chest smells like jasmine shampoo and rejection.
He doesn’t want me.
He wants to start over.
How can both things be true? I’m a goddamn mess, and I’m so goddamn angry!
I sink into an uneasy halfway place between stewing and sleeping, only opening my eyes fully when my door hinges creak. Shadows darken the corners of the room, and I can smell bacon and eggs wafting past Wings. “Is it morning?” I ask groggily.
“No, it’s close to midnight, though. Pitt’s making you sneaky dinner.”
I sigh, remembering all the times we snuck down to the club’s kitchen in the middle of the night and made a second dinner out of whatever leftovers we could scrounge. “I forgot to do the grocery shopping.”
“We’ve got it covered,” he says softly. “But I thought you might like to know that Cruise dropped your bike off. Do you want to come down and check her over?”
