Page 61 of Pin My Alpha
“I know you,” he says, his voice low and certain. “And I’m learning you. They’re not the same thing, but they’re not opposites, either.”
This is it. This is the moment where I’m supposed to break, where the good, steady alpha says the perfect thing and I fall back into bed and pretend the fear will be gone in the morning.
My mother’s voice is a ghost in the room. He was so good to me at first.
I look past him, at the bed. At the tangle of his shirts and the green bar towel I took. All the pieces of him I’ve been gathering around me like I’m building a shelter, when all I’ve done is walk into a cage.
My stomach clenches. No.
“The relaunch is Saturday,” I say. The words come out cold and clipped, a language from a different conversation.
Declan just stares at me. It’s like I’ve started speaking in tongues. He doesn’t ask what I mean. He’s waiting for the rest of the attack, and I don’t disappoint him.
“The new signage is up, the social posts are scheduled. My part is done.” I tug the hem of my shirt down, a useless, straightening motion. “So after the party, I think I need to step back for a while. Get my head straight.”
His face seems to collapse in slow motion. The understanding hits him not as a thought, but as a physical blow. “Step back,” he repeats, the words hollow.
“I can’t think when I’m here. When you’re—” I gesture at him, at the whole solid fact of him, and don’t finish.
The scent of him finally shifts—the warm cedar and woodsmoke charring at the edges, turning bitter with a hurt so sharp it feels like I’m the one breathing it in.
He takes a half-step forward, then stops himself. His gaze drops to the nest, to the absolute proof of what this was just an hour ago. When he looks back at me, his eyes are bleak.
“Is this you leaving?” he asks, his voice raw.
My throat closes up. The honest answer is I don’t know, and the scared answer is yes, and neither one will fit through my teeth. I can’t even look at him.
I jam my hands in my pockets, searching for my keys, my phone. Anything to hold on to. I just need to get out the door.
Declan
“Declan, if you don’t get your ass over here for a picture, I’m telling everyone you cried when Shay showed you the new sign.”
“I did not cry.”
Jude’s grin is pure viciousness. “You got misty.”
“Dust in my eye.”
“You were indoors.”
I point at him with the rag I’m using to wipe down a counter that was already clean ten minutes ago. “You’re banned.”
“You can’t ban me. I’m an institution.”
Rhys, who has an arm wrapped around Jude’s waist, sighs with the practiced exhaustion of a man in love with a menace. “Just take the picture, Declan. He’s not going to stop.”
“That’s the goal,” Jude says, phone already up. “Okay, everyone look successful and not like you’re in a corporate hostage situation.”
“It’s a bar relaunch,” Benji says from his stool. “No corporate hostages. Yet.”
“Give Shay ten minutes,” Knox mutters into his glass.
I look up at that. Of course I do.
Across the room, Shay hears it. He’s over by the new chalkboard menu, talking to a couple of students. His dark curls are perfect, his black shirt stretched tight across his shoulders. The collar doesn’t quite cover the faint purple bruise of my teeth on his neck. A secret. A problem.
He offers the students a smile that doesn’t touch his eyes.
