Page 35 of Alpha's Touch
Occasionally, he caught Quinn watching him with that assessing gaze that all the pack members seemed to share. That look that said they were checking for signs of distress or discomfort. It was both irritating and oddly comforting to be under such careful observation.
As he worked, Preston found himself relaxing again, the tension gradually leaving his shoulders. The incident with Terry had been unpleasant, but there was something deeply reassuring about how quickly Ash and the others had stepped in.
For someone who had spent most of his life feeling like he had to handle everything alone, having people actually stand up for him was a novel experience.
Maybe that was the strangest part of all this.
Not the werewolves or the vampires or even the mate bond that still made his head spin when he thought about it too hard.
Maybe the strangest part was simply having people in his corner, ready to fight his battles alongside him instead of leaving him to fend for himself.
* * * *
The bathroom door closed behind Preston with a soft click, momentarily muffling the sounds of the bar. At the sink, he splashed cold water on his face, letting it drip from his chin as he stared at his reflection. Not bad for someone who’d been on his feet for six hours straight.
Still, all he wanted now was to curl up against his mate’s warm chest and forget about everything else. God, he wished Zeppelin would hurry up with whatever he had to do.
“That was some show.”
Preston whipped around, water droplets flinging from his face. Antonio emerged from the bathroom stall, his smile dripping with smugness.
“How—” Preston mouth went bone-dry.
“Surprised to see me?” Antonio asked, taking a step closer. The smell of his cologne—that sickly sweet scent Preston used to think was pleasant—filled the small space, making his stomach turn.
Preston backed up until his hips hit the sink, fingers gripping the cold porcelain. The exit was too far away, and Antonio was blocking the path.
“What are you doing here?” His voice came out reedy, barely audible over the pounding of his heart.
The way Antonio’s lips curled as he laughed made it clear he wasn’t hiding his pleasure. He moved until barely a foot separated them. “I should thank you for causing such a scene out there. Everyone was so focused on the drama no one noticed me slip past.” His fingers traced the edge of the sink, boxing Preston in. “You always were good at creating distractions.”
“How did you find me?” Preston stammered, gaze darting to the door behind Antonio.
“Haven’t you learned by now? You can’t outrun me, Preston.” His voice lowered into a seductive whisper. “I’ll always find you.”
Preston took a step back, trembling so badly his legs threatened to give out.
“I saw you with him,” Antonio continued, voice soft yet insidious. “That big biker piece of trash. Holding your hand while you picked out fruit.” His face twisted, the handsome features contorting into something ugly. “What would your father say, Preston, about dating some thug?”
Ice flooded Preston veins. Antonio had been watching him with Zeppelin. Every moment, every touch, every smile. All witnessed by those unblinking eyes that never truly left him. Like dark planets orbiting his life, always there, always waiting, even when he couldn’t see them.
“You’ve been spying on me,” Preston said, his voice a thread about to snap. “That’s sick, Antonio.”
Antonio’s smile spread slowly, like a bloodstain. “What’s sick is how quickly you replaced me.” Each word fell into the space between them like stones into still water. “After everything I did for you. After all the love I gave you.”
The air between them seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe even before Antonio’s hand shot out.
Preston clawed at the hand crushing his windpipe, his lungs burning for air that wouldn't come. Antonio’s eyes had gone flat and dark, watching Preston’s struggle with the detached curiosity of someone observing an insect slowly drowning in honey. A slow, satisfied smile crept across his face with each desperate scratch against his skin.
This was it. Antonio was going to kill him right here in this dingy bar bathroom.
An image of Zeppelin flashed through Preston’s mind—his gentle touch despite his massive strength, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, how he listened, really listened, when Preston spoke.
Zeppelin, who had shown him what real love felt like.
Not possession.
Not control.
