Page 52 of Alpha Mates

I miss Aiden.

But I’d made my bed, asked for space, and now, I won’t be able to see him until the end of the day—if I even make it that far.

“Goddess have mercy.”

When the final bell rings, I’m the first out the door.

I follow the thread of my mate bond and I’m outside in seconds, scanning the parking lot. He’s leaning against my car where I parked in the back of the lot as if it’s his, with his arms across his chest and a smirk I can’t believe I missed waiting on his lips. My hurt from earlier lingers, but it’s quiet now at the sight of him.

I slow, not wanting to show just how eager I am while I take in every inch of him. His short sleeves expose his ink, and I follow their lines with the same attention as the gun that put them there.

“Someone’s giddy,” he teases as I approach. “Good day? Enjoy all that extra time with your beloved books, Jewels?”

“Maybe,” I allow, stopping in front of him. “I would ask how you fared, but you left.”

Aiden’s smile slips as he pushes off the car. “Sorry about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got bored, so I went for a run. Turns out, I can only handle being in that place for so long when I don’t have to be.”

I force myself to nod. I want to tell him he should’ve let me know. That he shouldn’t have promised lunch if he wasn’t going to be there. But voicing any of that reveals things I’m not even ready to accept myself.

“I should’ve told you, though,” he continues, making my brows lift. “I’m … I’m sorry I didn’t.”

It’s sinful how that’s all it takes. Aiden says sorry, and—poof—there my anger goes, up in a cloud of smoke while silly, jubilant butterflies riot in its place.

“It’s okay,” I say, lifting a hand. “We’re both adjusting.”Understatement of the century.

Aiden chuckles. “That’s putting it nicely.” He tosses me my keys before sliding into the passenger seat.

I head for the wheel, eager to get us back to the pack and his place where we were more … tactile. When it’s just us, Aiden’s a lot more self-assured in touching me, and after hours apart, I need that side of him to show itself.

“Seatbelt,” I say once we’re both settled in the car.

“Oh, come on.”

“Seatbelt.”

“We’re not going to die if we get into an accident, Jewels,” Aiden says, even as he reaches for his seatbelt.

“The law is still the law,” I remind.

“It’s a human law,” Aiden says before mumbling curses about my messed-up sense of duty.

I wait for the click before I carefully pull us out of the lot. My foot is slightly heavier on the pedal than usual as I steer us towards his packlands.I’m practically itching at this point to have Aiden to myself, and the quiet drive only makes it worse.

This morning, Aiden’s chatter had been nonstop and insistent, but he doesn’t say a word now. He sits perfectly still at my side, with his gaze pointed straight ahead. But even with my gaze fixed on the road, I’m hyperaware of his body next to me—of every breath he takes and the steady shift in his scent. It sharpens, becoming more distinct in a way that muddles my mind so much that I barely notice the chill of the pack’s wards as we drive through.

“We’re here,” I whisper lamely as I roll towards the colourful packhouse.

“Yeah,” Aiden replies, unbuckling his seatbelt before I’ve even put the car in park.

The engine quiets beneath us and I wait for him to get out. Aiden stays where he is, making my heart pound. I slip my fingers away from the steering wheel and sink back into my seat.

We sit, neither speaking, while the air thickens and our scents mix into a heady, blinding song.

“Julian,” Aiden whispers, like the start of something, but it fizzles out when I look at him.

He’s still wearing those shades, and I’m just about ready to push them off like I did this morning, but then his fingers suddenly slide over mine.

It’s electric—his skin, his touch. It’s everything I need.