Four: Don't Look Back

PEYTON POV

Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Heart pounds against my chest fueling my fear and adrenaline. My feet hurry along the forest floor, doing my best to put distance between me and my home. Away from them.

Branches smack and slice my skin, leaving me to bleed, my lungs desperate for oxygen, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I got a head start but one of them will come for me eventually. Bane when he wakes, or Brad, when he realizes I am alive.

I’ve dealt with one psychopath for the last three years, what the hell would Bane be like as a mate? Doesn’t that shit run in families? And if he’s not crazy, what crimes will his brother commit to possess me for myself? What will that do to the pack? They’ll end up under Brad and his gaggle of fuckwads? I cannot do that to my family or friends. I may fear Bane, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Or enough to not allow him become the Abel to his brothers Cain.

My wolf curls in on herself, a broken mess, mourning for the life she lost with my rejection. She’ll never have a mate. Second chances don’t exist. If you spurn the Goddess’ first choice, she’s not giving you another.

The chatter of the woods, and shallow breaths lull me into complacency, my mind wandering to a memory that I hadn’t thought about in years. Almost five to be exact. The one and only time I talked to Bane, outside of today’s monumental disaster.

It’s weird how a moment I waved off as unimportant rules my every thought now. Rather than let exhaustion slow me down, I reminisce about simpler days. Before, the Goddess used my life as personal entertainment. The world around me slips away, transporting me to a different time. Hell, it feels like a different world.

The last days of the summer sun warm my skin, as I exit the library, stepping onto the lush green quad. Wolfdale High’s grounds are a ghost town, most students are safely tucked in their seats, listening to lecturing teachers. I am not even supposed to be here, but when a teacher sends you on errands for the class, you’re required to shut up and do it. Especially as an Omega. So here I am, with a stack of papers neatly organized to the teachers’ specifications, minding my business, trying to get back to class as quickly as possible.

I barely get a step further than the library entrance when a tank with legs, smashes into me. Papers go flying, but I can’t save them, not when I’m free falling, my butt smashing into the ground, pain shooting up my tail bone. I land with a ‘Humph’ and a growl.

“The Goddess gave you eyes, you know?” I grumble, not bothering to spare a glance at my assailant. Not when papers are dancing on the wind and it’s my responsibility to catch them. On hands and knees, I stretch out, trying to grab the rest, but it’s useless, half are already gone.

“Shit, sorry.” A low rumble vibrates on the air, it’s smooth and decadent, reminding me of my mom’s homemade ganache. It’s sweet, delicious, and addictive enough for me to lick the bowl clean. A hand appears before me, offering me help, and as he’s the reason I am in this mess, I take it. My muscles ripple and tense, a shiver running from my fingertips to my toes.

Upright, and hand in his I meet the gaze of the mysterious stranger, only to be met with pitch black eyes. Underneath, the face of a man who can end my life without blinking. Albeit the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on, but an incredibly deadly one. And I, the idiot, insulted him. The future alpha of Blackstone. Bane Black.

“Oh, Goddess.” My cheeks pale, hand dropping from his, and with it the light sparks and tingles his touch seems to bring. Maybe it’s an alpha thing? “I’m sorry, Alpha, I didn’t realize it was you and I never would have—”

“Why are you apologizing?” He asks, his head tilted with curiosity. His facial expression conflicting, and hard to read. His smile wide, showing all his teeth, dimples that make grown women swoon indent his cheeks, but his eyes. They remain onyx, reminding me of Mordor’s landscape, dark and stormy. “I’m not mad, I am the one who ran into you.”

“Your not upset?” My brows furrow, unsure if I should believe him or not. “You should tell that to your eyes. They’re black.”

“What?” He asks, his hands fly to his cheeks, blinking repeatedly, until his irises transform to their original color. Cerulean orbs meet mine, his stare so intense I swear he’s searching my soul for its secrets. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. My wolf and I are still figuring our shit out.”

“It’s okay, Alpha.” Stop staring like an idiot Peyton, I scold myself. My focus drops to anywhere else but his hypnotic blue eyes, that make me weak in the knees. “Uh, thank you, but I better go print more of these.”

I wave the papers, my cheeks flame with embarrassment at how awkward I am. You’d think I’d never talked to a boy with the way I am acting. I have, but they’ve never been this attractive before. I’m around him, and halfway to the library door when his voice stalls my journey. “Wait.”

His athletic jacket swishes with movement and before I know it, he’s standing next to me, holding the library door open. “It’s my fault you’re in this situation, the least I can do is help fix it.”

“Oh, um, thank you.” Ugh, Peyton. Stop being an awkward mess. I peek at him through my lashes, to find him watching me with interest. He catches my curious stare, smirking with amusement. You’d think he’d be used to it by now, being the alpha’s son and all, people stare all the time, but it doesn’t mean I have to be one. My sight turns forward, leading us through the library to the printer.

He follows, dutifully at my side, as we fall into a comfortable silence. We stand shoulder to shoulder, his large alpha frame towers me, casting a shadow over me and the machine I have to fight with all over again. “You know how to work this thing?”

His questions snaps me into the reality of our situation. He’s an alpha, the next in line, and the most powerful man in Blackstone outside his of his father. Of course, he wouldn’t know, he can snap his fingers and a hundred omegas will appear to do his bidding. “Of course. Do you want me to teach you?”

“Uh,” he leans back, hands in pocket, apprehension evident in his tone. He observes the machine like he expects it to transform into a monster or something. Without warning, a giggle rises past my throat, floating into the air between us. His brows shoot up in surprise, and for a split second I fear I have insulted him. Until his chuckle mingles with my giggle, and it’s like music to my ears.

“Are you teasing me?” He asks, but there is no bitterness, or anger, but it sounds like he’s relieved.

“I’m sorry alpha.” I mumble, my hand covering my mouth, as I try to hold in more of my laughter, but it’s useless. “Admit it, it’s funny to see the big bad alpha afraid of a little old copier.”

He shrugs, a serene smile crossing his features, remaining cool, collected, and not how an alpha would react to an omega’s harmless teasing. Their pride would never allow it, and here he is, completely unbothered. “I think it’s only right you tell me your name, if you’re going to tease me.”

“Peyton, Alpha. Peyton Samuels.” I answer, shooting him an amiable smile, before patting the machine. A subtle reminder to myself that I’m supposed to be teaching him how this works, not flirting with the future alpha. “So, heres how you conquer this beast…”

And then I dive into the explanation, while he listens, asking questions like he cares. Time slips away as if it’s nonexistent. An arbitrary concept that has no relevance to us. The machine whirs to life, printing more copies, the papers dropping into the little tray, until the last sputters out.

I bend to grab them when his fingers brush mine, faint tingles running up my hand again. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, his chest rising underneath his jacket. His nose twitching like he’s smelling…me.

“Do I smell?” I whisper, cheeks rosy with humiliation. Good going, Peyton. Now, the alpha will only know you as the snarky girl who smells.

“What?” His eyes pop open with alarm, his hand drops, and with it the buzz. He stands upright, the papers remaining in the tray. His hand is scratching the back of his neck, his skin flushed, and I’m grateful I’m not alone. “Um, no, your perfume just…well, it smells…nice.”

“Oh, thank you,” his response takes me by surprise, my mouth rambling not thinking of what’s coming out my mouth. “But I don’t wear perfume.” It’s official, I should find a shovel, and a plot of land to dig my grave. Holy shit, is it my life's goal to demean my future alpha at every turn?

“It’s probably my body wash, though.” I hurry, doing my best to ease his shame, and my awkwardness. Although, I doubt I’ll be able to accomplish either. I have chronic foot in mouth syndrome. “It’s the special blend I’ve been testing out.”

“It’s…great.” He coughs, bending down to grab the papers I had forgotten about. He carries them, toward the door, waiting for me to catch up.

“Good to know.” I smile, playing with my hair, acting so unlike myself. “I’ll have to add it to my future inventory list.”

“Inventory?” He asks, holding the door open allowing me to pass through. “Like you made it yourself?”

“Yeah,” I nod, my heart pounding and palms sweaty. Why am I sharing this with him? He’s an alpha, he doesn’t care about how I spend my free time. “It’s just a silly hobby.”

“I doubt anything regarding you is silly.” He says, his words sending warmth through my limbs, my heart fluttering. He speaks with so much confidence, and sureness, talking as if he knows me. As if he sees me. Peyton Samuels. Not a random, no name omega, and it’s a feeling I could get used to, but I’m not that lucky. “Word of advice? Keep this scent for yourself. Every designer deserves to keep some inventions private.”

He throws me a wink and a smile; I am about to say something when my name cracks through the air. “Peyton!”

Brad, the younger alpha, and my lab partner for the class I am supposed to be in, jogs over to us. His demeanor cold, and harsh, unlike the warm jokester I’ve gotten to know over the last few weeks.

“Walden’s pissed and wanted you back ten minutes ago.” Brad’s words are directed at me, but his attention is focused on his older brother. The tension between them so thick you’d need a jackhammer to break it apart.

“Sorry, little brother.” Bane says, his aura shifting to match Brad’s, the pair locked in an eternal battle of wills. One that I don’t understand and I doubt I ever will. Bane hands me the papers, but they’re in Brad’s hands before I have the chance to grab them.

“Thank you for your help, Alpha.” I say, glancing between the brothers, doubtful I’ll do anything to ease the dynamic.

“Bane.” He smiles, breaking contact with his brother to meet my gaze. His icy attitude thawing quickly as dimples replaces his scowl. “Call me Bane, Peyton.”

“Thank you, Bane.” I test his name on my lips, finding it weird, but somehow natural. His gaze flicks to his brother, with a curt nod, before turning on his heel, leaving us in the courtyard.

Unfortunately, that was the first, and last time, I talked to Bane. Sure, I had seen him around. Almost everywhere. School, the library, parties. Hell, he and his friends practically lived in my mom’s coffee shop, but they always sat at the counter, and not in my section. I might have talked to him if he wasn’t surrounded by his senior friends. I had already humiliated myself enough around him; I didn’t need to add his friends too.

Who knew that incident would be the catalyst, pushing my life here. To me, running for my life through the woods. My mind playing tricks on me, the memory playing on repeat has me second guessing myself. My run slows, to a labored walk, as I glance over my shoulder, doing the thing I said I wouldn’t.

Guilt eats away at me as the repressed memory makes me reevaluate my decision. Maybe Bane is as nice as he was then. Or maybe he’s more like his brother. Brad was nice, when we were freshmen, and lab partners. But all that changed when we returned during our sophomore year. He turned into a monster who made my life hell. What if Bane is more of the same?

No, I shake my head, continuing onward, I’ve decided and I need to stick by it—OW! My skin pinches, as if I’m being injected with a needle. I pale, as I wrap my hands around the object protruding from my chest. Yanking, I wince, as I lift the mysterious object to eye level. A dart.

“What the fuuuuuck?” My words are slurred, making me sound like a drunken mess. The world spins at warp speed, the dart slipping from my fingers, as I collapse toward the ground. The low mumble of voices I don’t recognize fill my ears, but I can’t distinguish what they’re saying when reality is drowning in a dark abyss.