The Biker Alpha Who Became My Second Chance Mate Chapter 86

We heard footsteps, and Tristan appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Ready to go?"

I nodded, following him back to the living room where Orion was waiting. My brother looked calmer than before, though still concerned.

"Be careful," he said, pulling me into one more hug. "And remember what I said about calling me if anything happens."

"I will. We see each other every day at work, remember?" I reminded him with a small smile.

He nodded. "I know. I love you, little sister."

"Love you too, bro."

The ride home was quieter than the ride there, but it was a different kind of quiet. The tension was gone, replaced by something that felt almost peaceful. I found myself relaxing against Tristan's back, letting myself enjoy the familiar comfort of riding with him.

Sarah's words kept repeating in my mind: "I don't think he's going to mess this up again."

When we reached my apartment, Tristan walked me to the door like always.

"Thank you," I said as I unlocked it. "For defending me in there. For taking my side."

"You don't need to thank me for that. I meant what I said about training you properly. If you're going to do this, I want to make sure you're as safe as possible. Keeping you safe is my priority."

My stomach did a little flip at his words, the sincerity in his voice making my heart race.

"And what about the other thing? About us?"

He stepped closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

"That's up to you, Ath. I meant what I said yesterday. I'm going to prove to you that this is real, that I'm serious about us. But the choice is yours to make."

"Good," I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded. "Because I need to know that you want me for me, not just because of some bond or obligation."

"I want you for you," he said simply. "The bond is just a bonus."

Before I could respond, he leaned down and kissed my forehead gently, lingering for a moment. I closed my eyes at the sensation, neither of us wanting to step away.

Tristan was the one who pulled back first, because he was stronger than I was. When he did, I felt like something essential was missing from my chest.

I wanted to step forward and hug him one last time, but I held myself back, my teeth catching my lower lip as I stared at him.

"Good night, Athena."

"Good night, Tristan."

He gave me a nod toward my door, and I went inside and locked it behind me. As I switched on the lights, my eyes caught the flowers I'd left before heading to work that morning. A smile appeared on my face as I walked over to inhale their sweet scent before heading to my room.

The next morning, I found myself subconsciously expecting another flower delivery, but nothing came. As I got ready for work, I couldn't help but feel irritated.

Everything seemed to be going wrong, and I couldn't figure out why I was in such a bad mood.

I checked the time and cursed under my breath. I had thirty minutes left, which meant I was running late by my standards. I liked getting to the office early, and this delay was throwing off my entire routine.

I grabbed my bag, muttering to myself as I headed for the door. When I opened it, I stopped dead in my tracks.

Tristan was standing in my hallway with a flower in his hand. This one was even bigger and prettier than yesterday's, with deep red petals that looked like silk.

A smile spread across my face, and all my irritation disappeared like smoke in the wind.

"Good morning, Ath. I decided to deliver this one myself," he said with that crooked smile that used to make my teenage heart flutter.

I took him in properly for the first time. He was wearing a black shirt and black pants, and the combination made him look devastatingly handsome. How could someone look so good in something so simple?

"Good morning, Tristan. What are you doing here?" I asked, raising my eyebrow but unable to hide my smile.

"I wanted to drive you to work. Don't want you stressing yourself with cabs."

I laughed. "Thank you. You're really being a good big brother."

I was teasing him deliberately, and I could see the way his eyes darkened at my words.

"I'm not your brother, Ath," he said, his voice dropping to something rougher. "But I'd love to hear you call me that while I'm buried deep inside you."

My face turned crimson immediately, and I looked around my empty hallway like there might be invisible people listening to us. Tristan had never been this raw with his words before. Never this direct.

I had nothing to say to that, so I said nothing. I took the flower from him and walked inside to place it next to yesterday's bouquet.

When I came back to the door, he was holding it open for me, and our hands brushed as I passed through. The contact sent electricity shooting through my bloodstream.

The drive to work was comfortable, when we arrived at the office, I immediately switched into work mode, grateful for the distraction.

Later that afternoon, I got a call from Derek asking if we were still training for my upcoming race.

That's when I remembered I hadn't told him about the change in arrangements. When I explained that Tristan would be training me now, Derek was quiet for a long moment.

"That's fine," he said finally. "I actually got a proposal to train someone else anyway."

"You should take it," I encouraged him. "It sounds like a good opportunity."

"Yeah, I think I will. Good luck with your training."

He hung up without his usual jokes or flirting, which surprised me. Derek was always so cheerful and easy-going. I made a mental note to check on him later, but for now, I had work to focus on.

After work, Tristan picked me up as promised. We drove to my place so I could change into my racing gear, then headed to his house where he grabbed his own equipment.

The racing center felt different when I walked in with Tristan instead of Derek. People nodded respectfully to him, stepping aside as we passed. He had a reputation here, a presence that commanded attention without demanding it.

I went to get Ciara from her usual parking spot, running my hands over her familiar curves.

Training with Derek had been nice, patient, encouraging. Training with Tristan was a completely different experience.

It was intense in ways I hadn't expected. He pushed me harder than Derek ever had, demanding precision and excellence rather than just competence.

But he also taught me things Derek couldn't have, techniques that came from years of professional racing experience.

Though Derek had taught Tristan, but with Tristan, it felt like he was more experienced.

There were moments when he had to adjust my position on the bike, his hands settling on my waist or my shoulders.

Each touch sent heat racing through my body, and I could tell from the way his breathing changed that he felt it too.

He started kissing my forehead after every successful maneuver, a small reward that made my heart race faster than any motorcycle ever could.

"Better," he'd say after I nailed a particularly difficult turn. "But you can do even better than that."

He was right. Under his guidance, I found myself improving rapidly, gaining confidence and skill I hadn't known I possessed.

This routine continued for days. Training sessions that left me breathless and exhilarated, rides home where the tension between us grew thicker by the day, and mornings that started with flowers and ended with barely restrained desire.

Derek and I still talked, but something had changed. He was more distant, more professional.

I suspected it had something to do with the new rider he was training, but I didn't pry. The dynamics between the three of us were complicated enough without adding more drama.

I'd decided to follow Sarah's advice about giving Tristan a chance, but that didn't mean I was going to make it easy for him. Mate bond or not, he needed to earn my trust again.

And he was earning it. Every day, he was melting my defenses a little more, making me fall deeper despite my best efforts to maintain some distance.

Today was my eighth race since I'd started, and I was more nervous than I'd been for any of the others. This wasn't just about proving myself anymore. This was about proving that Tristan's training had been worth it, that his faith in me was justified.

The competition was fierce tonight. I could see it in the way the other riders moved, the aggressive confidence in their posture. These weren't amateurs looking for a thrill. These were serious competitors who didn't appreciate some newcomer winning race after race.

I ran through my pre-race ritual, checking Ciara's engine, adjusting my gear, centering my breathing. Tristan stood nearby, not hovering but present, ready if I needed anything.

"Remember what we worked on," he said quietly as I pulled on my helmet. "Trust your instincts, but don't let emotion override technique."

I nodded, feeling more focused than I ever had before a race.

The starting signal echoed across the track, and we were off.

This race was different from the beginning. More aggressive, more dangerous. Riders were taking risks they shouldn't have been taking, making moves that prioritized winning over safety.

By the third turn, I understood why. There was money on tonight's race. Serious money, the kind that made people desperate and reckless.

I held my position in the middle of the pack, waiting for my opportunity. Tristan had taught me patience, had shown me that sometimes the smartest move was to wait while everyone else exhausted themselves.

As we approached the final section of the track, I made my move. The gap I'd been waiting for opened up, and I shot through it like Ciara had been launched from a slingshot.

The crowd was on their feet as I crossed the finish line, but something felt wrong. The other riders weren't celebrating good sportsmanship like usual. There was an ugly energy in the air, something dangerous that made the hair on my arms stand up.

I parked Ciara and pulled off my helmet, immediately looking for Tristan.

I couldn't find him but I saw Derek and he was walking toward me with what looked like pride shining in his eyes, but there was something else there too. Something that looked like concern.

"Great race," he said when he reached me, but his voice was tense.

"What's wrong? Where's Tristan" I asked, reading his body language.

"He said I should stay with you for a while, he needed to take care of something."

"What is going on?" I asked through gritted teeth. "What's wrong?" he said nothing but looked at me with pity.

And I hated that look of pity.