Page 66 of Pit Stop

I really can’t afford to be pining after an alpha while I’m trying to study. When I clear my plate, I decide I need to use the bathroom before the ride home, so I excuse myself and head down the small hallway.

Thank the gods there is no line and I’m able to walk right in. But as soon as the door swings open, Red is there, standing at the urinals. I watch him turn his head, his gaze hitting mine.

“Sean,” he says, and I hold back an eyeroll.

“That’s not my name,” I say as I debate standing near him or going into a stall. I decide to square my shoulders and head to the one farthest away from him. I can feel his eyes on me, dropping to my dick for a minute before he shakes and zips himself up. I refuse to make eye contact or engage in any way.

Fuck, he makes me nervous, makes my skin crawl.

Something about him is nefarious, cruel. I can tell by the way he watches me. I’m a means to an end.

He moves to the sinks and washes his hands for a long time, forcing me to end up at the sink right next to him.

His gaze is predatory as he continues to eye me.

“Your brother messaged me. I haven’t responded yet,” he says, grabbing a paper towel and wiping his hands off.

“Uh, why not?” I ask, and he shrugs, tossing that crumpled piece of paper toward the garbage. It doesn’t land inside, only falls to the floor next to it. Red doesn’t even move to pick it up. Of course not.

“Because I want to make this deal with you.”

My hands shake slightly as I dry them off, trying like hell to keep my composure. I shouldn’t engage, but this may be our only hope, the only way Maverick and I can be free of each other.

The thought makes me sick to my stomach.

“And what kind of deal is that?”

“After your bond is broken, I want to be the one to fuck you during your next heat.”

I stare at him, the paper towel in my hand hanging limply by my side. That uneasy feeling in my stomach worsens.

“Why?”

He grins, predatory and fierce. I can see that he’s an actual shifter through and through. It’s in the way his eyes seem to glow as he watches me, the tilt of his head, the way his nostrils flare.

As if he’s never seen better prey.

Oh gods. Why does he want this from me? I’m no one.

“Because those are my terms.”

My mouth gapes, and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pen. His fingers wrap around my wrist, and he scrawls his number on my skin. It makes everything inside of me recoil with disgust.

But this is the only way, right?

“Call me when you’ve made a choice.”

And then with that, he moves out of the bathroom, leaving me panting for breath.

Maverick sees the number on my skin the minute I return to the booth, his nostrils flaring, and I know he can smell the presence of Red on me. I hear his bones crack as he grabs the glass cup holding his water. Some splashes over the edge, and Owen pauses to look at him before chattering on.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper when Owen is not paying attention, not sure if I’m apologizing for speaking to Red or for actually considering fucking another man. It’s not that I want to. But if we need to break this bond…

“It’s fine,” he growls, his eye twitching.

I don’t think it is. Breakfast is ruined. The small buzz I had from the mimosa is gone and I feel slightly nauseous.

Thinking about being in heat with anyone but Maverick makes me ill.

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