Page 14 of Claim Me
Marcel’s fucking magic.
"Gabriel, Marcel is never going to be yours, and even if he was, it’d only last a moment before he breaks your heart. I’m asking you to think this through. Not with this head." He gestures meaningfully to my crotch.
I shoot him a look that could kill, but I don’t say a word.
Yet, he just doesn’t give up.
"Gabs, please!"
"Can you just leave me alone?!"
Marlow lets out a short laugh. "I seriously don’t get what you see in him. He’s this unimpressive, tiny omega with a permanent scowl and a superiority complex…"
That’s it, I explode. "At least he has a personality and isn’t boring like—"
I cut myself off.
I almost said ‘like you’, but arguing like that isn’t my style. I’ll spare Marlow that. No point kicking someone who’s already down. His dating life is a whole separate disaster. And pathetic, depending on how you look at it. He’s an alpha who’sonly into other alphas, which means constant rejection and disappointment.
Oh well. Everyone has their problems.
We’re getting close to campus now, turning onto the path that leads to our dorm.
But the moment we step out from behind a small decorative cluster of trees, all the blood drains from my face.
There’s a police car parked in front of the building.
I stop. Marlow freezes too, uncertainty written all over his face.
"Yeah. I told you. None of it matters. The underground fights, Marcel… it’s all gone with the wind. They’re here for me," I say, strangely numb, almost indifferent, like I’m stating a simple fact.
Marlow puts a shaking hand on my shoulder, his face pale, but I pull away and walk toward the car at a steady, calm pace.
Two officers are just stepping out of the building, probably after asking about me at the front desk.
One of them narrows his eyes, like he recognizes me. I save him the trouble, walk up, and say,
"I’m Gabriel Nolan. Can I help you?"
His pupils widen slightly as he replies,
"Well, that works out. We wanted to talk to you."
???
Two months later.
Tick, tick, tick. I watch the hands of the clock on the wall of my cell as they crawl forward. I like staring at them, becausetimeand I have something in common.
You could say I can control it, at least for a few seconds. Sometimes Ikill timeby tossing a small ball in the air or bouncing it off the wall. When I use my ability, I never miss, I always catch it. When I don’t, it sometimes drops to the floor.
Sitting in a cell gives you far moretimeto think than anyone would ever need.
You can analyze everything to death, chase your thoughts into a corner, loop through the same conclusions over and over, regret your stupidity, or just give in completely.
I go through all stages of that.
Other than that, prison is quiet for me. A state jail is a dangerous place, but not in my case. My ability helps me avoid trouble, and my experience with fighting makes sure I earn respect fast. After a few guys ended up with broken noses and split lips for getting ideas about a young alpha in the showers, people stopped bothering me. So my days pass without much stress, aside from the fact that I might spend anywhere from ten to twenty years here.
