Page 6

Abel

T he second I get out of the shower, I can feel it, that nagging, insistent pull. It’s like something inside me is calling for her. I shake my head, trying to focus. I’ve got a dozen things to do. The club needs me. The girls need me. But every goddamn thought is tangled up in one thing.

Her. Juliet.

It’s been hours since I saw her, since I almost ... claimed her.

Fuck. I should’ve walked away the second I smelled her scent. The second that patch hit the floor, and the bond clicked in place. But I didn’t. I stayed. I let myself feel it. And now I can’t stop it. I can’t stop craving her.

I pace the apartment I built above the club so that I was always nearby if anyone needed me. My fists are clenched at my sides. The dark shadows of the club are still with me, the music, the lights, the heat, but that’s not what’s consuming me now.

It’s her.

Her scent lingers in my nose, even when I try to push it away. Even now, as I struggle to ignore the gnawing ache in my chest, I can feel her. The bond is there, wrapping around my ribs, digging into my skin. I don’t want it. I don’t want her. Or at least I shouldn’t.

She’s my best friend’s daughter. She’s off-limits. But the bond doesn’t care. And neither does my wolf. He continues to push, trying to get out, to get to her.

A knock on the door pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. I pause, my jaw tight. I know who it is before I open it. Lance, one of the new bouncers at Dark Side of the Moon. I don’t know what he wants, but I’m not in the mood to deal with him, or anyone else right now.

I swing the door open, and he freezes when he sees my face.

“Are you okay, man?” he asks, his voice hesitant. He’s a tall man, tattoos covering his neck and arms, but I can see the fear in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” I growl, though I’m anything but fine. “What do you want?”

He clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Just checking in. You left in a hurry tonight. Is everything good with the club? Do you need anything?”

I nod, though the words feel like gravel in my throat. He has only been there a month, but I can honestly say he is a good guy. He has been trying to fit in and build relationships, even with me.

“I’m good,” I say, but I’m not sure I mean it.

I can’t think about the club. Not when my mind is consumed with her. Not when every part of me is pulling toward her, no matter how many times I tell myself not to.

He hesitates. “Are you sure? You seem a little off.”

“I said I’m good.” I step back, closing the door in his face before he can say another word.

I let out a breath. My chest is tight. My wolf is clawing to the surface, snarling for her, demanding I claim what’s mine. I consider shifting and letting him out for a run, but I know once he is free he will run to her.

The thought makes me sick. She’s not supposed to be mine. But the mate bond doesn’t give a shit what either of us think or want. I pull on my jacket, fingers trembling as I button it up. I need to leave. I need to get away before I lose my mind completely.

But the moment I step outside, it’s like I’m drawn to her, like the Goddess herself is trying to guide me to her. My every step feels heavier, like I’m fighting against the tide.

I know exactly where she is, she’s not at the club. She’s hiding in her little apartment in town. I can feel it.

That’s the bond, too, the thread that connects us. It’s not just her scent. It’s a pull, deeper than instinct. Something primal, something that feels like it’s been carved into my bones, into my very soul.

I curse under my breath, turning around to head in the opposite direction, into the forest where I pray I can find peace. I can’t do this. I can’t. But every part of me screams that I have to. My wolf fights me for control, snarling and snapping at me.

I stop just inside the treeline, my heart pounding, and stare down at my phone. I’m staring at her name. It’s a text I never sent. A message I didn’t even know I was going to write.

Me: Are you okay?

I press “send,” knowing she probably won’t even reply. I drop the phone back into my pocket, but it feels like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake.

I push through the underbrush, head down, but I can’t escape the burning urge to turn around and head back toward her apartment. It’s almost unbearable. My instincts are howling at me. But I won’t give in.

A moment later, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I consider ignoring it, knowing I can’t go back to the club right now, I’m too volatile to be around anyone at the moment. But my hand still digs in my pocket to retrieve the device. It’s the one message I never expected to receive.

Juliet: Leave me alone.

I force myself to continue walking away from town, deeper into the forest.

I shouldn’t have stayed at the club as long as I did tonight. I should have walked away when I first realized that damn patch fell off. The second her scent hit the air, I should’ve turned and left. I knew what it meant, and I knew what I was to her. But I didn’t. I stayed.

I should have turned her away all those months ago. But I didn’t and now it’s too late to do a damn thing about it.

But I’ve let myself feel it. Let myself want it. And now it’s too late. I can’t stop it. She’s mine. I’ve been lying to myself since she showed up. I knew there was something about her, something I couldn’t explain but I never thought she would be my fated mate—even if I secretly hoped for it.

She is stunning. Confident in who she is. Her curves are enough to drive any man to his knees and even though I knew it wasn’t right, I couldn’t stop myself from fantasizing about her when I was alone in the early morning hours.

Now that I know the truth, it is tearing me apart to stay away from her. It’s like a fire in my chest, pulling at me from the inside out, and the more I ignore it, the worse it gets.

I slow my stride, fingers digging into my palms as I force myself to think about anything other than her—the club, the other dancers, the fact that I still have responsibilities. But none of that matters anymore. Because in the back of my mind, she’s still there.

Juliet. My fated mate. My chance at a happily ever after, no matter how corny that sounds.

I close my eyes, willing the thoughts to stop, but they only grow louder. She’s not just some dancer. She’s not just an omega. She’s my mate.

I curse under my breath. There’s no going back. No pretending I didn’t feel it. The bond is there, deep in my blood, weaving itself into my veins, like a rope pulling me toward her.

The last thing I want to do is hurt her, drag her into something she’s not ready for. And the worst part is she doesn’t even feel the bond the way I do. And even when she does, I’m not sure she will accept me.

I try to think about her, try to see her the way I always have, as just Juliet, my best friend’s daughter.

But my mind keeps straying to the way her scent curled through the air tonight.

How soft her skin was when I grabbed her arms in my office, how fragile she felt beneath my touch.

Her perfect, perky breasts pressed against my chest, and the colors of her tattoo decorating her skin.

I could ruin her. But I also know I could love and cherish her.

I consider leaving the town, the state, the fucking country. I consider refusing her and ending the bond. The thought of losing her, of walking away from her when I know she’s mine, makes something deep inside me snap.

I can’t stay away.

I stand in the middle of the forest, staring at my phone.

I stare at it for a long moment before pressing the device to my forehead, clenching my jaw as I fight back the impulse to break every rule I’ve ever made.

To throw caution to the wind and pull her into my arms, to feel the heat of her body against mine, to taste her, to claim her.

Every step I take away from her is agony. Every breath I take is one I’m choking on.

Even this deep into the forest the air thickens with the scent of her again, sharper now, more intense.

The pull tugs at me harder, twisting through my chest like a knife in the ribs.

I can’t ignore it. I can’t outrun it. I stop.

I turn around. And it feels like the Goddess herself is pulling me back to her. I know I shouldn’t.

And then my phone vibrates again.

Juliet: Please. Abel. Come.

I swear to God, I almost lose my fucking mind.

I don’t know if it’s real or just my head playing tricks on me, but I know I can’t let her call out to me again. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to walk away from this. From her. But the moment I take that first step toward town, toward her, I know I’ll never be able to go back.