“Thanks,” Zayn replies, his tone detached. I can feel the weight of his gaze on me, however I avoid looking at him, focusing instead on the screens around us. One by one, they display grainy images of the club’s various rooms and corridors, none seem to capture the moment I so desperately need to see.
“Seems like we’re having some technical difficulties with the footage,” Zayn says, handing the tablet back to the technician. “Keep looking, though.”
“Of course, Alpha,” the man replies, nodding before turning back to his task.
“Technical issues, huh?” I mutter, more to myself than to Zayn. My thoughts keep drifting back to the confrontation with Alpha Dane, and the uncertainty of where Deacon might be.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Just worried about Deacon,” I admit. Zayn rolls his eyes.
“I’m sure he’s fine, probably just cooling off somewhere, chilling out with friends,” he tells me.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “We checked with his friends, they haven’t seen him.”
Zayn sighs. “If it makes you feel better, tomorrow I will even help you put up missing person flyers. Fuck I’ll find a milk carton company if you want to plaster his ugly mug on that too, okay? So cheer up,” he tells me, and I smile knowing he’s only saying this to make me laugh.
“Deal?” he asks.
“I may take you up on the flyers if we can’t find him,” I chuckle.
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
I place a hand on the edge of a desk to steady myself, realizing the wine from earlier is affecting me more than I expected.
“Lightweight,” Zayn teases. He leans over, gripping my arm to steady me. The casual gesture somehow makes him even more desirable, and I have to force myself to focus on anything but the magnetic pull toward him.
“Never took you for a wine drinker,” Zayn comments, his voice tinged with amusement. “Are you always this much of a lightweight?”
“I don’t usually drink wine, okay?” I defend myself, rolling my eyes. I appreciate the distraction, though. It’s a brief reprieve from the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
“Relax, Cleo. I’m not judging you,” Zayn says, amusement dancing in his eyes. “If anything, it makes you more… endearing.”
“Endearing?” I scoff, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Would you prefer adorable?” he asks, his lips curving into a smirk.
“Definitely not,” I retort, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickens at the sight of his smile. The sire bond—it has to be that, right? There’s no other explanation for why I’m reacting this way to Zayn.
I roll my eyes, trying to suppress the flush creeping up my neck. “I needed something to calm my nerves after dealing with Alpha Dane and Boyd.”
“Fair enough,” Zayn replies, leaning against the desk with a smirk. “But you’re not driving,” he warns me.
“I’ll catch a cab,” I retort with a shrug, and Zayn huffs.
“Let’s get out of here,” Zayn suggests, sensing my irritation. “I’ll drive you home.”
“I don’t think I can go home just yet. My father will be furious.” I admit.
Zayn sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you have any other places in mind? Your dorm, maybe?”
I take a deep breath, attempting to regain some semblance of control over my emotions. My heart is a thunderous drumbeat, the heat from Zayn’s touch still lingers on my skin. I am a hundred percent positive he has sired my wolf now. I can’t ignore the fact that our chemistry is undeniable, but the thought of being bound by something so uncontrollable terrifies me.
As we make our way toward the stairs, I see the barrage of threatening messages from my father on my phone. My heart clenches with fear as I realize going home isn’t an option tonight. Zayn, sensing my distress, guides me gently down the stairs, his hand warm and steady on my lower back.
“Careful,” he murmurs as I stumble slightly. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his grip tightening on my arm slightly when someone calls out to him.
“Crap, Shana needs me to fix the safe, apparently it’s jammed again,” he grumbles, leading me down the last couple of steps.
