Page 22 of Cost of Courting

I glance down at the body and back at him before reaching up and pulling my balaklava off. “Are you following me?”

He moves into the light, and I see that he’s smiling slightly. “What would you say if I am?”

“I would say it’s not nice to stalk people you barely know.”

Bailey moves closer, ignoring the body and reaching out to brush my hair behind my ear.

I shiver.

What happened to not being interested? What happened to distance? My eyes travel over his exposed shoulders and arms. He is covered in ink, black swirls of colour that reach down to his fingertips. How did I miss that? I want to inspect every inch of those designs.

“How do you know I don’t know you well? Maybe I’ve been watching you for a long time?” Bailey whispers and shuffles even closer. “Fuck, you looked so good breaking his kneecap.”

I cock my head to the side. “If you’d been watching me, you wouldn’t be standing here with me like this now.”

“Maybe I just don’t care.”

“Maybe you should, and what happened to the other night?”

“What other night?”

He moves closer still, but a jaunty ringtone cuts through the tension, and he backs off, moving to answer the phone.

“Yeah, I need a clean-up crew.”

I stare at him for three seconds before I come to my senses and back away.

Bailey blows me a kiss that makes my whole damn heart turn over. Dangerous. He is far too dangerous.

I turn and jog away from the scene of my crimes.

Chapter six

Bailey

He arrives right ontime, watching me from the shadows while the Despair Motorcycle Club play fairy godfathers and make the body of the piece of trash I killed disappear.

I wiggle my fingers at him, but he just ignores me. Folding his arms over his chest in disapproval. He’s dressed in black, with black hair and dark eyes. He always seems to find me.

My silent shadow.

I’m halfway in love with him, and I don’t even know who he is. Pretty sure he’s figured me out, though. All my secrets laid out before him. He sees me in a way no one else does.

Except maybe her.

He scares the crap out of me because I haven’t been able to discern anything about him, but he keeps showing up wherever I am. My assumption is Dad sicced him on me, but it could have been my Uncle Charles.

There is one secret I would do anything to keep, even commit my life to someone I don’t love. Nice, normal, steady.

Not someone who is exciting, who fills my waking moments with intrigue and awe.

Fuck it.

I walk towards him, but, this time, unlike most of the others, he doesn’t walk away. My stomach fizzes, and I can barely stop myself from breaking into a jog.

He blends with the shadows, but, as soon as I get close, I feel the telltale indications that bring all my fears to life. My scent gets weaker, sweeter, more mellow. I can feel the alphastrength in me fade.

I grind my teeth in frustration, but I keep walking until I’m standing right in front of him. My designation screams that I’m an omega. Vanilla has joined the apple pie, filling the air with the cloying temptation and my shame.

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