THE BIKER ALPHA WHO BECAME MY SECOND CHANCE MATE novel Chapter 5

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Chapter 4

He pulls out of the parking spot slowly, giving me time to adjust. The motorcycle purrs beneath us like a contented beast, and I can't help but think how fitting that is. Everything about Tristan has always reminded me of something wild, something barely contained. Even now, after five years apart, I can feel that familiar energy radiating from him.

*He smells like home,* my wolf whispers in the back of my mind, her voice a low rumble of longing. *Like pine forests and summer storms.*

*No,* I tell her firmly.

*We can't think like that. Not anymore.*

But as we merge onto the highway, the bike picks up speed, and I have no choice but to hold on tighter. My arms circle his waist, and my wolf practically purrs at the contact.

She's been so quiet these past three years, retreating deep inside me where Daxon's fists couldn't reach her. But now, with Tristan's familiar scent filling my lungs and his warmth seeping through his leather jacket, she's stirring to life again.

The world rushes past us in blurs of light and shadow. The motorcycle is loud, powerful, alive beneath us. So different from the suffocating silence of the house I've finally escaped.

I can feel every vibration through my body, every turn as we lean into the curves of the road. The sensation is intoxicating, liberating in a way I'd forgotten was possible.

I try not to think about how close I am to him. How my chest is pressed against his back, how I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, how my wolf is practically singing with joy at being near our friend, someone close to family, again.

I try not to think about how this would have felt five years ago, when touching him was natural, when being close to him felt like peace, when I thought maybe, just maybe—friendship could become something more.

Now it feels dangerous. Not because of him, but because of me. Because I'm broken in ways I don't know how to explain. Because I've forgotten how to be touched without violence. Because every instinct in my body is screaming at me to run, while my wolf is begging me to stay.

*He would never hurt us,* she insists, her voice stronger now. *You know this. You've always known this.*

But that's exactly the problem. I trusted once before. I trusted Daxon with everything, my heart, my body, my wolf. And he used that trust to nearly destroy us both. To take the only thing that would have brought me happiness.

I wasn't given the opportunity to hold my pup, because of that same trust.

I force myself to stay still. Force myself to breathe. Force myself to hold on, even as my hands shake against Tristan's stomach. The city lights blur past us as we navigate through traffic. New York at night is beautiful from the back of a motorcycle, all neon and possibility. For a moment, I can almost forget the last three years. Almost pretend I'm just a woman on a bike with a man who once loved her.

*Who still loves her,* my wolf adds hopefully.

*Stop,* I warn her. *Just stop.*

*As a friend* she added.

I wanted to respond, but then we hit a pothole, and I instinctively tighten my grip around his waist, and the movement sends a jolt of panic through me. My body remembers being grabbed, being held down, being hurt. My breath catches in my throat, and suddenly I'm not on a motorcycle anymore. I'm back in that house, back in that bedroom, back under Daxon's heavy hands as he.....

*Breathe,* my wolf commands, her voice cutting through the spiral of panic. *You're not there. You're with Tristan. You're safe.*

Tristan must feel my tension because he slows down, his hand coming to rest briefly on mine where it's pressed against his stomach. The gesture is gentle, reassuring, and it breaks something inside me. His touch doesn't hurt. It doesn't take. It simply... comforts.