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Juliet

Two Days Later

I didn’t expect things to get easier. I didn’t expect him to suddenly change his mind and accept this bond like some love story I’ve read about in a book. But this—the quiet silence between us—is unbearable.

Abel’s been avoiding me for two fucking days. Not in a way that’s obvious, but in subtle, painful little gestures. His body language, the way he doesn’t make eye contact when I walk by, the way he retreats into his office at the club or works on the business late into the night. It hurts.

Every day, the bond pulls at me, the ache growing deeper with every passing moment. My body is attuned to him now. Every part of me craves him, but there’s no release. There’s only this gnawing hunger, an emptiness I can’t escape.

I’ve tried talking to him, tried to explain, tried to make him understand I’m not some fragile little girl who needs protecting.

But every time I get close, he shuts down.

He clams up. The more I push, the further he pulls away.

And I can’t decide if it’s because he’s afraid of hurting me or because he’s terrified of what this bond means for him.

Not that he is letting me live my life either.

He won’t let me dance, instead relegating me to the bar.

I’m not allowed to walk anywhere, he insists on driving me.

And even though he won’t spend the night with me, I know he is sitting outside my apartment in his car.

He is driving us both crazy. But I’m not backing down. I can’t.

After my shift, I wait until everyone leaves before making my way through the club, trying to push the tension out of my body, trying to ignore the pulse in my veins that seems to scream out for him. But it’s hard to escape the hunger. The need. It’s always there.

I make my way through the back hall, passing by the dressing rooms and the storage closet. I don’t hesitate or stop to think about what I am doing. I know what I’m looking for.

Abel’s office door is slightly ajar. The low hum of his voice drifts out, but I can’t tell if he’s talking to someone or just on the phone. The door creaks when I push it open, and I step inside.

He’s sitting at his desk, staring at the papers in front of him, his massive shoulders hunched over as if the weight of the world is on him.

His shirt is undone at the top and his sleeves are rolled up, his tattoos glistening in the dim light.

I notice that his jaw is clenched tightly, the tension running through him almost palpable.

For a moment, I just watch him. And my heart breaks.

He’s fighting this. He’s fighting me. He’s fighting us.

I hate that.

Closing and locking the door behind me, I walk closer, and his eyes flick up to meet mine as he hangs up the phone. There’s nothing but wariness in his gaze. No warmth. No softness. Just the cold distance he’s putting between us.

“Abel,” I say quietly, my voice low but determined. “We need to talk.”

His lips tighten, and he doesn’t respond right away. The seconds stretch out, thick with unspoken words between us. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even acknowledge me as anything other than another problem he has to deal with.

I hate this. I hate this distance.

I take another step forward, ignoring the ache in my chest that tells me to give him space, to let him breathe.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, the words sharp and firm, cutting through the air between us.

He doesn’t react. Just stares at me, his hands still gripping the edge of the desk like he’s holding onto something that’s slipping through his fingers.

I step closer, standing directly in front of his desk.

I lean over, allowing my flowy pink top to gape open and show him I am not wearing a bra.

His scent is a mix of sweat, leather, and something deeper, something that’s uniquely him, and it sends a shiver through me.

The bond pulls at me, urging me to close the gap, to press myself against him and claim what’s mine.

But I don’t. Not yet.

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not going to let me in. You’re not going to let me help you.”

“I don’t need help,” he mutters, his voice rough, almost defeated.

“Then what do you need, Abel?” My heart is pounding in my chest. “What do you want from me? Do you want me to walk away? Is that it? Because I’m not leaving. Not now. Not ever. This bond...” I gesture between us, “it’s not something I can ignore. And neither can you.”

“I never asked for this,” he says, his voice low and filled with frustration. “I never wanted this bond. This connection. I can’t...” He clenches his jaw, the muscles in his neck tightening. “I can’t do this to you.”

“But you already have,” I snap, pulling my shirt down and showing him his mark. “You’ve already bonded with me. Whether you like it or not, we’re stuck with each other.”

His eyes flash with something—anger, guilt, frustration—but it’s quickly buried, replaced by that cold, distant mask he wears when he’s trying to shut me out.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, almost like a confession, a raw truth that breaks through his usual bravado.

“You already are,” I say, the words sharper than I intend. “You’re hurting me by pushing me away.”

I can feel the air in the room shift. His shoulders stiffen, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I see a crack in his armour. His eyes flicker to mine, and I catch a glimpse of the man he’s trying so hard to hide, the man who’s struggling as much as I am.

“I don’t know how to do any of this, Juliet,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

Slowly, I round his desk, removing my top and dropping it onto his lap. Once beside him, I lay flat on his desk, my face turned in his direction. I lift the short denim skirt I am wearing, revealing my naked ass to his gaze.

“You can start by fucking your mate,” I say softly. “I need you.”

I feel the bond hum between us, growing stronger with every passing second. The air is thick with the pull of it, the weight of everything unsaid, everything we’re too afraid to face.

He breathes in slowly, his chest rising with a deep sigh. I watch his struggle, his internal war, and I know that no matter what, he’s not going to give in easily.

Then his chair rolls over his office carpet and he positions himself behind me. His hands caress the globes of my ass, softly massaging them. A single finger slips between my thighs, teasing my pussy before slipping inside. A mewl falls from my lips as my back arches.

“Why do you keep tempting me?” he asks. I mewl, not able to say a single word. “For the first time in my life, I am trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to be a good man.”

“I only want you.” I arch my back and fuck myself onto his finger. “Please, Abel.”

I hear him unbuckle his belt and pull down his zipper. I wait with bated breath for him to do something, anything.

“You’re going to be the fucking death of me.” His hand wraps in my hair and keeps me pinned to the wooden surface. His cock spears into me and I can’t hold back my moan. “Fuck! How is this pussy even better than before?”

“Fuck me,” I beg like a whore.

“Hold on tight, Little Omega.”

And then he unleashes on me. His hips piston into me, his abdomen slapping against my ass. Obscene noises come from both of us as he fucks me like a beast. An orgasm hits me and as soon as I think it has passed, it flows into another one.

My legs tremble but Abel keeps me upright.

I feel his knot swell as his cum fills me.

His knot locks us in place and a moment later he falls back into his chair, clutching me to his chest. His hands pet me, playing with my nipples and rubbing my clit, drawing the last vestiges of pleasure out of my sated body.

“You’re beautiful, Juliet. A perfect omega. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”