I wait for the flush of happiness that my queen is safely back, but I can’t get past the ache in my chest. I should be leaping out of bed and rushing to the garage, but I just curl into a tighterball. “Maybe later. And can you tell Pitt thanks, but I’m not hungry?”
Wings’ head makes a soft thunk as it hits the door. “You’re sure?”
“I’m just really tired.”
“Maybe because you haven’t eaten anything...”
I give a guilty flinch at the worry in his voice but then anger prickles through me again.Hasn’t he seen someone check out for a few hours before?“I don’t feel like it right now. I just need to rest, okay?”
“You’ve been sleeping a long time.” He crosses the room to peer down at me, his fingers feathering over my clammy forehead. “You’re cold, butterfly. Can I hold you?”
I pull my head back out of reach, even as my heart gives a painful throb. “Not tonight. I’m sorry, Wings, but I really want to be alone.”
“Don’t apologize.” His teeth gleam in a sad smile as he turns away. “We all need our space sometimes.”
I don’t want you to worry. I’ll be fine in the morning. I just need to sleep so that I can stop obsessing over a complete stranger and an ancient crush…
All promises that I can’t force past my lips, which is probably just as well, since I wake in a quivering ball, my fingers clawing at my chest. A sliver of light from the hallway spears my gritty eyes, and I scrub at my wet cheeks.What the hell is happening to me?
“Abbie?
“Pitt?” I roll onto my side, panting into the icy cold mattress. “Where's Wings?”
“He’s sleeping on the couch.”
I lift my head, but it takes me a moment to remember where I am. My tiny apartment, with less furniture than a roadside motel. “What about you?”
“I’ve slept in worse places than the floor.”
“Are you crazy?” My carpet is basic, to put it politely, and I can’t remember the last time I ran a vacuum over it, since I don’t happen to own anything more sophisticated than a broom. I push myself onto a trembling elbow and flick back the bedsheets. “That’s not happening. Get in.”
He jolts, like it’s the last thing he expected to hear. “Seriously?”
“I can’t promise I won’t kick you in the night, but it has to be better than the floor.”
“I’m hard to bruise,” he murmurs as he strips off his jeans, leaving him in tight black boxers and a tee. A bolt of something that feels like guilt rocks through me, but he’s too busy sliding in next to me to notice. He runs a big hand down my arm and flinches. “Jesus, you’re freezing, Abbie.”
I could tell him that I’m frozen all the way through to the bone, but I’m too distracted by the hand that’s now rubbing at my arm. Callouses scrape my sensitive skin, like flint dragging over dry tinder. That citrus forest fragrance rolls off him and I scoot forward, snuggling into his warmth. I’m vaguely aware of his hand going still, but I’m too distracted by the curve between his shoulder and ear to care. There’s a little hourglass tattooed there, and I nuzzle the ink, chasing his scent as I travel across his throat in hungry licks. “Alpha,” I murmur dreamily. “You taste so good…”
“Abbie?”
I freeze, the hint of warning in his tone washing over me, making my skin prickle with a fresh wave of rejection. I want to screw my eyes shut, but this isn’t a stranger I got caught mooning over before he hit me with a command like I was a disobedient dog. This is Pitt, and he’s only ever been decent to me.
I lurch back so fast, the bedframe rocks against the wall. “I don’t... I’m sorry! I’m not thinking straight...”
He offers a low, soothing rumble. “Believe me, I’m not complaining, but you still seem a little out of it. Maybe when your head clears?”
I groan and press my thumbs into my temples, like I can hypnotize myself into acting like a normal human being. “Yes. I mean, we can talk later. Sorry again.”
He pushes me gently onto my side, scooting up behind me. It’s dangerously close to the tender area on my spine, but he just lays a big arm across my waist, as comforting as a weighted blanket. “No need to be, butterfly. But go to sleep now. I’ll watch over you.”
Maybe Pitt is the one with hypnotic powers, because I sleep until noon. As soon as I open my eyes, I know I’m alone, but I still brush my fingers over the cold sheets, seeking out any wisps of warmth that he left behind.
Time to wake the hell up, Abbie.
But the firmest pep talk in the world only gets me as far as the bathroom where I stare at my listless face. There’s nothing particularly memorable about my reflection - except for the butterfly tattoo on my neck - so maybe that’s why it’s so hard to recognize the person staring back at me.
After I’ve taken care of the basics, I crawl back to bed. The scent of bacon still lingers in the air, along with a freshly brewed pot of coffee, but not even that can lure me into the kitchen. Instead, I pluck the post-it note off the nightstand, smiling a little at Pitt’s handwriting in scratchy caps:WE’RE AT WORK. EAT SOMETHING. CALL FOR ANYTHING.
