"I wouldn't do that to you," Trent promised, kicking himself for thinking exactly that. "I know you love your job, and you have made a home for yourself here. When we move then we will make that decision together, okay? I won't make any decisions about something so important, without talking to you about how you feel first. Your happiness is the most important thing to me now."
Marly looked deep into Trent's eyes and Trent could see the trust his mate had for him, which was remarkable in itself given they really hadn't known each other very long, and had been apart for most of that time. When Trent did manage to get home to his mate, he was far to overcome with lust to do much else except fuck Marly senseless, and talking wasn't something that he was very good at, at the best of times.
"I know you don't think my clothes and stuff are important," Marly said. "But I was kicked out from my pack with nothing but the clothes on my back and a tiny bit of money I had saved. Getting this apartment, my clothes and car and stuff, were all the result of some really hard work, and I just can't … "
Overcome with remorse, Trent pulled his mate even closer, and rested Marly's face in his neck. How could he have not known how hard his little mate had had things since leaving his pack? Omegas were not strong wolves, they were caring, and good and decent, and damn it all, Marly should never have been treated that way simply because he was a male.
The thought of Marly alone on the streets with nothing but the clothes he was wearing sent a pang of pain through Trent's heart. He vowed to himself that no matter what happened to them in the future, he would never make Marly leave his hard earned clothes and other shiny things behind. He might not like them, Trent had never cared about material possessions except his bike, but they were more than just clothes and bits and bobs to Marly, and Trent would fight for his right to keep them along with anything else his mate deemed important.
"Don't think about leaving things behind," Trent said firmly. "I simply want to take you on a road trip. I promise you we will come back, even if we do find somewhere else we want to be in the meantime. And when we do move, I will hire the biggest truck we can find to take everything with us, does that make you feel any better?"
Ah, now that smile on his mate's cute face was more than enough payment for anything Trent might have to do.
"I was just worried you wouldn't take me seriously, what with my clothes, and my job and the way I look. Even being an Omega," Marly said.
"You are so much more than what you wear and how you present yourself," Trent said, choosing his words carefully. "You supported yourself when you left your pack, you built a life for yourself which shows incredible strength especially for a lone wolf shifter, and look at the way you handled your attackers yesterday. I am totally proud of you, and the fact that you are mine and always will be."
"Oh you totally deserve a kiss for that," Marly grinned up at him and threw his arms around Trent's neck. Trent wasn't about to argue with the man, especially when Marly pressed up against him trying to get closer. Bending his head, Trent took the lips offered, even as it crossed his mind that maybe he was going to have to be a bit more careful about his thought processes – especially if he wanted his mate to be happy. Marly had a spot of mind reading talent going on.
It was quite some time afterwards that the two men finally got on the bike and headed out of town. Trent had convinced Marly to braid his long hair, so that it wouldn't get too knotted up with the wind running through it – neither man were planning on wearing a helmet, although Trent did try to insist that he would buy one for his mate. But Marly got stubborn all over again, stating that if it was good enough for Trent to go without, then he would too. Trent was fast learning that his Alpha status meant very little when it came to dealing with his feisty little mate.
None of that meant anything though, when Marly climbed up behind him on his bike. Trent had never been keen on carrying passengers before, finding their presence on his Fat Boy Harley distracting at best, and annoying most of the time. But when Marly wrapped his arms around Trent's waist and snuggled up against his back, Trent felt a sense of peace he'd never enjoyed before. It was as though his bike had always been missing a key accessory, and Marly was it.
They were only ten minutes into their ride, when Trent felt his cell phone vibrate against his chest. He ignored it, knowing that the only person who would be trying to get in touch with him was Clive, and he'd tried ringing the man earlier that morning. Clive hasn't answered his call, so Trent just left him a message saying he was heading out of town for a few weeks and would get back in touch when he came back. He wasn't going to break his promise to Marly, but he wasn't going to quit the Epitaphs via text or a phone message – he had too much respect for Clive to do that to the man.
The phone kept vibrating, annoying Trent as all he wanted to do was settle into his ride and get his mate out of town. His anger increased when the phone started ringing. It seemed that Clive wasn't happy with his holiday plans, and Trent was sorely tempted to ignore the call. But when the rings clicked off and then immediately started again, Trent pulled his bike over to the side of the road with a growl.
"Yes," He snapped into his phone.
In the background Trent could hear screaming, a loud bang and then Clive's voice came over the phone. "You've got to get over here right now, we're under attack! Black Skulls."
Fuck. Trent didn't realize he'd cursed out loud at his now dead phone, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Double fuck. His mate would have heard Clive, couldn't avoid it, being wolf. Trent was once again warring in his head, and he was sick of it, fucking sick of it. He wanted to help the men who'd been his surrogate pack for the past ten years, but taking Marly into that type of situation was dangerous in more ways than one. Trent didn't even bother thinking about leaving his mate on the side of the road. There is no way Marly would go for it, and that was dangerous in itself.
"I know how to protect myself," Marly said softly in his ear. "Go with your instinct lover and let's go help your friends."
"Marly," Trent didn't know how to explain what taking Marly into that situation might do. Marly was clearly gay, even dressed for the bike, with his gorgeous hair braided down his back. He would be like a lamb in a wolf pack, if Trent took him to the Epitaph's compound.
"Trust me, I'll keep your secret and I can fight for myself," Marly said, and it was the quiet conviction in the man's voice, combined with Marly's willingness to keep their relationship private, that cemented Trent's resolve. Patting Marly's hand that was still on his shoulder, he just said, "hang on tight," and gunned the throttle of his machine.
Chapter Fourteen
As they roared into what was clearly the Epitaphs' compound, Marly only had time to think that the place looked a lot like his old pack house, before he took in the fighting. The Epitaphs were fighting a group of about twenty men – fit, youngish, and all wearing bright red patches on their backs. At least sorting out friend from foe should be relatively easy.
Marly slipped off the bike as soon as Trent stopped it, letting his mate get off. Trent ran up to the porch of the house, where a hard looking older man was fighting off two thugs with red patches. He barely had time to appreciate his mate's fighting form, when he felt someone come up behind him and tug on his braid. Swinging round, Marly dropped the man with a single punch, and suddenly he was in the thick of things.
He didn't even try to hide his shifter strength – this was not a place or situation where weakness would be respected. As Marly's rage simmered at the fact that he could never be a true partner to his mate amongst these men who Trent held in such regard, he swung and kicked, and bit and punched, ensuring that every man who went down, was wearing a red patch.
The crowd was thinning, with more red patches on the ground than anywhere else. Marly had just knocked out one large man, when a hand came from behind him and seconds later he felt a knife at his throat.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes in a mob like this? I don't know whether to cut your throat or take your hair as a souvenir, pretty boy," a rasping voice hit his ears, just as the scent of stale sweat and some cheap cologne hit his nose.