The Loneliest Alpha (The MacKellen Alphas) (19 page)

Her
finger hovered over the play button, trembling to play it again.

That’s
when her eyes caught sight of the diamond shining on her ring finger.

His
ring. The lykaen mating ceremony didn’t require rings. Instead, they had a
sacred mating tether created by combining materials from the female and male
then tying it around their wrists as the vows were spoken.

Tom
had given her the ring so that humans would know she was taken. Or so he said.
He’d never really shown protective tendencies toward her when they were
together now that she thought about it.

Suddenly
she had to tear the ring off her finger, couldn’t stand to have something of
his on her skin, touching her, damaging her. Not something that was
his.
Not
something that he’d once given her out of
love
.

But
that wasn’t all. That was just the ring after all, not the sacred tether they’d
said their vows over.

With
that thought, she charged upstairs and tore into the bedroom closet. Shoe boxes
and clothes went flying behind her in a torrent as she ransacked the place. Her
breath quickened, her eyes wide and determined, chest heaving.

Then
she found it. At the bottom of her jewelry box. Jewelry that had been left by
her dead mother and grandmother, rings and necklaces that had been split
between her and Kaity.

The
tether was made up of strands of their hair, cloth from the white gown she’d
mated him in and his favorite shirt, a white button down.

She
fisted the material, staring at it as memories of their mating day came back to
her. How happy she’d been. How he’d look at her like she was his world. But
that look had faded over the months steadily and then at a rapid rate. She hadn’t
been able to catch up to it, to him. Until one day when he looked at her with
indifference and contempt.

Maybe
it was the alcohol, or the fact that his clothes no longer lined his side of
the closet, but Hanna found herself walking downstairs to her car.

She
shouldn’t. She was shit-faced drunk. But that didn’t stop her. She put the key
in the ignition, started the car, and took off down the road keeping her foot
barely on the gas and the pedometer steadily trembling around fifteen miles per
hour.

When
a man riding a motorcycle blazed down the road toward her on the empty street,
she squinted at his beaming headlight and focused on staying on her side of the
road. She didn’t need to kill anyone after all, and if she did kill someone,
she knew who she wanted it to be.

The
driver got closer and her breath caught.

Alex.

Alex
.

“Play
it cool, you got this. Not like he’s a cop, Hanna,” she told herself. Then why
did it feel like she was about to get busted by a teacher for passing notes in
class?

The
loud rumble of his bike grew louder as he neared. As he started to pass her,
his black helmet-covered head glanced up at her with a passing glance. Even
with the dark night shadowing his face she could still feel his eyes narrow on
her. As if he knew. As if he knew that today her life had been wrecked, that
she’d gotten drunk and was driving illegally on her way to the Palm Springs
Motel. All things she shouldn’t be doing.

But
then the bike drove past her, undeterred. The breath she’d been holding rushed
out of her and she laughed at her own silly paranoia.

Of
course he hadn’t recognized her, or if he had, why would he care? He had no
reason to. At most, they’d been something of friends, she guessed. Or not even
friends, maybe acquaintances would be the better term.

An
engine roared behind her with a guttural growl. Tires squealed on asphalt. Her
pulse thumped in her throat.

Her
gaze shot to the rear view mirror and she gaped. He’d turned around and was
trailing her. That one solitaire headlight pointed right at her like a mother’s
scolding finger.

He
honked his horn then pointed a finger at her and jabbed it to the shoulder of
the road. His message rang loud and clear: pull the fuck over.

She
squeezed the steering wheel like she was trying to give it a massage. There
wasn’t enough air in the car. She rolled down the window and sucked in the cool
breeze.

Beeeeeeeeeeep!

He
really laid into it now and without even looking at him she knew he was pissed,
and his patience was gone.

She
pulled the hell over.

Her
heart raced like she was running full-on with a monster chasing her. Why was
her heart racing like this? An adrenaline surge from being caught driving while
intoxicated?

Ah heck,
that may be part of it but she knew it’d be a lie to say that was all. Because
it wasn’t. This was Alex, swinging his long leg up and over the bike, striding
toward her, pulling his helmet off and shaking his shaggy hair loose.
Oh
shit!

Then
leaning into the opened window—
why had she opened it again?
—and turning
those dark, dark eyes on her.

She
stared forward, lips pursed, eyes blinking fast. Maybe if she just pretended he
wasn’t standing there like some mysterious, dangerous cop in the middle of the
night he’d go away.

“What
the hell do you think you’re doin’, Hanna?”

Shit.

She
swallowed over razorblades caught in her throat. It hurt.

Don’t
look at him and maybe he’ll go away.

“Hanna!
Snap out of it!”

She
jerked at the abrupt change in his voice. No matter how many times she told
herself not to do it, her eyes swung up to his.

Damn.
You looked, you idiot!

There
was no unseeing after looking at Alex Thompson’s eyes. The man just had a pair.
Not that they were beautiful or that she romanticized them by dreaming about
them or something stupid. Not at all. It’s just that Alex had the kind of eyes
that saw you.

As in
really freaking saw you.

He’d
always been like that. No matter how bad or good a day she’d ever had, all he
had to do was look her over once and his eyes would change.
He would just
know.
Like some kind of damn psychologist or parent. He’d know.

“I’m
not doing anything,” she said. Her voice a whisper.

His
expression tightened around his eyes and mouth. Another thing about Alex, he
always got mad when she tried to lie to him. Not fair though! The man had no
right, at all, knowing how she really felt. And just because he asked her
questions didn’t mean she had to answer him honestly. After all, they weren’t
even friends.

But
dang, did he manage to make her feel like crap for lying to him.

“Bullshit,”
he said, voice sharp as a blade. “Get out of the car.”

Her
jaw dropped. She it snapped closed. “I will not.” When did she start sounding
all haughty?

Suddenly
her door was open, he reached across her and unbuckled her seatbelt, then she
was dragged out of the car, her back shoved against it.

“You’ve
been drinking. Mind telling me why you’re drinking and driving at one in the
morning, Hanna?”

She
looked anywhere but at his face. She didn’t know why but she always struggled
to keep eye contact with him. Maybe it was the whole seeing-eye thing he had
going on. Yeah, that had to be it.

Although
if she were really being honest, as in hand to God honest, as in on her beloved
parents’ graves honest, then she might admit that he straight up scared her.

Alex
was so different from her. He hadn’t graduated high school, he’d grown up with
one of the worst father figures Hanna had ever witnessed and she’d known Emma
Linchman’s father her whole life. Alex’s old man took the cake for worst father
of the year.

Alex
didn’t go to college like she did. She had a degree in Accounting, was a CPA
with a desk job and he worked manual labor building houses with Gavin. It was
respectable, but different. Their interests were never the same. He had tattoos
and shaggy hair that almost touched his shoulders with just a touch of curl to
it, and a ’stache. Sexy and scary at the same time. It shouldn’t make her think
so, after all it was just some facial hair, but the trimmed ’stache combined
with his goatee just made her think—scary. This wasn’t a man she ever wanted to
mess with. Plus, he drove a motorcycle. Enough said.

And
he surely wasn’t the kind of guy she wanted pulling her over at one o’clock in
the morning on an otherwise empty road.

Suddenly
that scary face (’stache and all) was in her face. “I asked you a question,
Hanna.”

“Why
do you always have to say my name like that?”

They
both blinked. She didn’t know who was more surprised that she blurted out that
little question—a question she didn’t know she had until it spewed like vomit
from her stupid lips.

“What
do you mean?”

Shoot.
Now that she’d opened this can of worms she might as well squirm around with
the rest of them. “It’s just that…you always say my name like that.”

“Like
what?” he asked, something tense coming into his deep chocolate eyes.

Her
breath left in a flutter. “Like you’re always scolding me like I’m a child. I’ll
remind you that I’m thirty years old and in no way a child, Alex. Plus, you do
that thing.” She waved her hand as if to signify her meaning.

His
eyebrows rose and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Her stomach chose
that moment to make a strange flipping sensation. Again, she had to look away
from him and those damned eyes.

“What
thing?”

“Yeah,
you know, that thing where you end every sentence or question with Hanna. Like
you’re trying to remind me of my own name.”

He
stepped back from her, his expression thoughtful. He nodded, conceding her
point. “I guess I do. Why do you think that is, Hanna?”

Had
his voice suddenly gotten deeper? No, no way. Just the alcohol talking.
Literally.

“Um… Maybe
you think I’m stupid so you really are trying to tell me my own name or you are
trying to scold me. Otherwise, I have no idea.”

“Maybe
it’s because I like the sound of your name.”

She
wasn’t prepared for that. At all.

The
air wheezed out of her on a pinched breath and she suddenly had the need to
escape. She pawed the door handle until she found it and quickly hopped into
the seat, slamming the door closed and locking it for good measure.

She
went back to staring out the front of the windshield pretending he didn’t
exist.

“You
do know that I could just reach in and pull that lock up, right?”

She
darted a glance at the still rolled down window. Darn it.

“I
see that.”

He
leaned in again, his arms crossing on the ledge of the door. His face was
entirely too close to be comfortable. She found herself sucking in her stomach
and pushing her back further into the seat.

“Here’s
what we’re going to do. You’re going to turn around and follow me back to your
place.”

What?
Her eyes grew huge. “No way!” she squealed.

Those
scary eyes darkened. “I’m not letting you drive anywhere drunk, but home, with
me leading you. Otherwise, scoot your ass over and I’m taking you myself.”

Like
that, she remembered why she was in this car in the first place. The Palm
Springs Motel.

Suddenly
she sought out his eyes. “Will you take me to the Palm Springs Motel? It’s in
the city.”

His
expression blanked. Just like that. So fast it took her brain an extra moment
to process the change.

“No.”

“It’s
important. That’s where I was going.” To confront him. To throw the ring and
mating tether in his face. To be done with Tom forever.

“No.”
He pushed off from the door and stepped around in an agitated circle. “You have
no clue what you’re asking for, Hanna.”

“I’m
drunk and I don’t want to be driving. Please, Alex, just take me so everyone
will be safe. I can ride on the back of your bike if you want.”

He
laughed, the sound not amused. “You’d fall off you’re so drunk.”

He
wouldn’t stop moving, his hands moved, legs paced and stalked, even his head
seemed to want to look everywhere at once.

“Please.
Alex.
Please
.” Her voice broke.

That’s
when his gaze swung back to hers. His expression—pained and more than a little
pissed off.

“Move
over,” he rasped.

It
took a moment for his words to sink in. He’d already opened the driver’s door
when he started lifting and shoving her into the passenger seat. He climbed in
and she burst out laughing.

He
sent her a withering glare. The man had at least a good foot of height on her
five foot nothing. Sitting in her seat had his knees jammed up against the
steering wheel and his chest.