Page 4 of Mated To The King's Gamma
“I didn’t mean for you to leave the room, Abbie. You didn’t need to run from me,” I tell her.
“I need him in here with me,” she whispers.
“Abbie, he can’t sleep in our bed forever. I hardly get any sleep, as it is with him kicking the crap out of me in his sleep.”
“Then I’ll sleep on the couch with him,” she says like it is no big deal and as if I would allow that.
“That is…” I groan, pinching my nose. “That is not the only reason. I miss you. I miss being able to touch you and hold you. I can’t do that with him between us.”
“I can’t sleep in here without him, Gannon,” she murmurs, brushing his hair with her fingers.
“Why!” I snap, becoming annoyed.
“Because you will expect things. You don’t expect things with him here!” she snaps at me, and I blink at her in shock.
“You think this is about sex? Abbie, that is not what I meant. I have never asked you for anything more than you are comfortable with!”
“And I am not comfortable sleeping in here without him,”
“You were before he came along!” I tell her.
“Because you always slept on the couch!” she yells, and Tyson jumps, stirring awake. I sit up, horrified at her words.
“Why are you here if you can’t stand to be near me?” I ask her. “Can you even answer that?” I ask her. She says nothing. Standing, I peer over my shoulder at her as I grab my shirt to find her sitting up.
“I feel safe with you,” she whispers.
“Not safe enough to stay in a room by yourself with me,” I retort, tugging my shirt over my head. Abbie says nothing, just stares down at her hands, picking the skin around her nails.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs so softly I almost miss it.
“I have never hurt you or done anything to make you fear me. I am not Kade, Abbie. And if you can’t see that by now…” She looks up at me, and I pause. I don’t finish what I was going to say as she looks at the door. Instead, I leave before I say something I will regret. Leaving her there by herself.
Walking across to Liam’s door, I knock once before opening the door. Liam sits on the floor, sharpening his knives. “Go, I will keep an eye on them,” he says without looking up from his sharpening stone running the blade’s edge across it.
When I don’t move, he looks up, “Go, Gannon. Leave the door open. They’ll be fine,” he says, and I nod before walking off to find a guard to beat the crap out of.
I storm down the corridor, my hands clenched so tightly that my nails dig into my palms. My body thrums with frustration, anger, and something even worse—helplessness. The look on her face won’t leave me. The way she flinches, the way she shrinks from me like I’m no better than the monsters who hurt her.
I’m not angry at her. I could never be angry at her. But this—this ache in my chest feels unbearable. I need to hit something, anything, just to get this pressure out of me before it consumes me whole.
The training arena is the first place I think to go. There is always a guard or two training late; if not, I’ll pull someone out of bed. I need to get out of my head, out of this feeling, before I march back into that room and demand answers Abbie isn’t ready to give me.
But my feet take me somewhere else instead as I stop on the bottom floor.
The scent of fresh bread and something sweet drifts down the hall, and before I can stop myself, I push open the heavy kitchen door knowing exactly what I will find.
Clarice stands at the long counter, kneading dough. She doesn’t look up right away, but I know she hears me.
“Thought you’d be down here soon,” she says finally, dusting flour off her hands before turning to face me. Her sharp, assessing gaze flicks over me, taking in the tension in my stance, the way my fists still haven’t unclenched.
“How?” I ask. She arches a brow at me. “Liam, of course,” she answers. “Judging by that look, I’m guessing this is about Abbie.”
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “She’s still scared of me.” My voice is rougher than I mean it to be, raw with frustration. “I just—reached for her, that’s all. And she flinched like I was about to—” I cut myself off, unable to even say it.
Clarice sighs, wiping her hands on her apron. “She’s been through more than you or I can ever understand, Gannon. You can’t rush her.”
“I know that,” I bite out. “I’ve given her space. I’ve never pushed. But she pulls away again every time I think we’re making progress.” I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
