“I’m here to serve,” he says with a surprisingly elegant bow. The cut should make it look ridiculous, but it actually does the opposite, and I’m still blinking at him when he jerks his head at Wings. “We should probably go take a walk around the quad before we go to work. Give the fuckers time to come up and ask their stupid questions.”
Wings groans but then leans down to give me a quick kiss. “I should get this over with. I’m kinda behind on some projects at work.”
“Of course. Want me to come with you?” I slide my hand under his cut, over the butterflies etched on his chest. “A united front?”
“You should probably stick your head in Ark’s office first.” He gives me a look I can’t quite interpret. “It’s two doors down from the kitchen.”
“Didn’t we already do the meet and greet?”
He shrugs. “There’s some formal stuff he probably needs to get through.”
“Okay.” Maybe he just wants to give me the Flyers 2.0 handbook so he can say he covered all his bases. “I guess I can stop by after I unpack.”
Pitt leans down and presses a quick kiss to my temple. “Keep some space in your panty drawer for me, butterfly.”
The little patch of skin tingles, and I drop back on my hands, giving him an arch look. “You’re assuming I brought any.”
“Well fuck.” He props his hands on his hips, staring down at his groin. “How am I supposed to spar withthisin my pants?”
His tight black boxers, soaked from the shower, spring to mind and I grin. “I can give you a demonstration tonight, if you like.”
I can hear Pitt groaning all the way down the hallway, but Wings lingers while I lift my duffel onto the bed. For a moment I wonder if I’ve overstepped with Pitt, but he pulls me into his arms, nuzzling my hair. “I’m really glad you’re here, Abbie, but if this doesn’t work out, I’ll walk away. My home’s with you, not a clubhouse.”
My heart melts as I grip him tighter. “Same, Wings. No matter what happens, it’s you and me.”
His kiss is so full of devotion, I’m still pressing my fingers to my lips as I pull my brother’s jacket back on and head to Ark’s office. I tap on the second door down from the kitchen, breathing in the leather and violet scent that’s soaked into the wood. When he tells me to enter, I brace myself and step inside. The room is simply furnished, with a mahogany desk in front of a large window, and a set of mismatched leather armchairs around a coffee table, currently buried under paperwork. There’s a well-worn sofa against the wall, and a sideboard with a selection of liquor bottles, most of which look untouched. It’s not exactly the lair of the smug new president, and I wonder if Ark is still trying to find his feet in the role. “Hey,” I say awkwardly. “Wings said you might want to talk to me about some official stuff.”
“Come in. You okay to sit, or do you want me to move…” He waves a hand at the coffee table overflowing with paperwork. “There’s a couch under there somewhere.”
“This is fine,” I reply, perching on his visitor chair. “You look good behind that desk.”
“Oh?”
So much weight in a single crook of his brow. “I just mean I remember going into your dad’s office and almost peeing myself because I was so intimidated.”
A ferocious scowl settles on Ark’s face, and he leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “I burned all hisfurniture the week he died. Poured all his expensive whiskey on it and fanned the flames with his cut before tossing that on as well.” He blinks, the savagery in his eyes giving way to something softer. “I don’t have great memories of that office, either, but I’m sorry he ever put you through that.”
I give him a sympathetic smile, because despite our many differences, Ark and I also have a few things in common. “Families are complicated, right? Especially in an MC.”
“Mmm. The Taylor name still carries a lot of weight around here, but we need to talk about the rest.”
“Prospect, hangabout, or sweetbutt?” He frowns at me, but I shrug. “They’re what’s on offer, right? If an omega isn’t claimed, I have to be one of the three.”
His scowl is back, less ferocious but still brimming with displeasure. “You’re a legacy, Abbie, not a prospect or a fucking hangabout. You have automatic membership.”
“Really?” I get that he’s pissed, but I’m the one who had to live by the club’s archaic rules. “I remember your dad and his cronies being pretty vocal about their views on omegas and membership.”
“There’s still some of that,” he admits, his scowl giving way to a tired expression. “I don’t always have the majority at church.”
“And you’ve still done all this? That’s impressive, Ark.”
The compliment surprises him, and he sits up straighter. “We’re getting there, but there’s still a lot to do. And more importantly, there’s a lot at stake if we get it wrong.”
He glances at the door behind me, then gets up to shut it. I stiffen, especially when he perches on the desk beside me instead of returning to his seat. “The Vipers were heavily involved in omega trafficking. They hid it behind an employment agency, but they were scooping unbonded omegas off the street and selling them to the highest bidder.”
I grimace, since this is the kind of club business that kept me away for years. “Ark…”
“I get it. It’s vile, and the fact that we patched Vipers into the Flyers is one of the worst things this club ever did.” His dark eyes bore into mine, and as much as I want to look away, I can’t. Ark has always been hard to ignore, but his fury makes him mesmerizing. “I shut that shit down as soon as my old man started to slip. We took care of his support base in the next few weeks, and most of the Vipers took off.”
