The honesty catches me off guard. No games. No posturing. Just raw truth.
"Maybe I do," I whisper.
His eyes snap to mine. Dark and intense and barely holding back. "You don't mean that."
"How do you know what I mean?"
"Because I see you." His voice drops. "I see how scared you are. How hard you're fighting this. And I'm not—" He stops. Breathes. "I'm not going to be another alpha who pushes you into something you're not ready for."
The words hit different than I expect. Not possessive. Not demanding. Just... patient. Understanding in a way that makes my throat tight.
"What if I am ready?"
"You're not." He says it gently. Matter-of-fact. "You're turned on and overwhelmed and your body's responding to pheromones. But you're also terrified. I can smell that too."
Fuck. He's right.
"That's annoying," I mutter.
His mouth quirks. "What, that I can read you?"
"That you're always right. It's a very unattractive quality."
"Liar." But he's almost smiling now. "You like that I see through your bullshit."
We're still standing too close. His hands are still on me. But the energy's shifted—less about losing control, more about... acknowledgment. Of what's happening. What we both want but can't have. Not like this.
"The lighting's about to start," he says.
"Yeah."
"You should go. Before someone sees us and starts gossip."
"Probably too late for that." But I'm pulling back. Putting space between us even though every instinct screams to close the distance again.
His hands fall away. Slowly. Like it costs him.
"For what it's worth," he says as I turn to leave. "I'm going to think about this later. About how you felt against me. How you smelled."
Heat floods my face. "That's?—"
"Honest." His eyes are steady on mine. "I don't do games, Bea. When I want something, I'm clear about it. And I want you. But not like this. Not rushed in an alley because we both got clumsy."
"Then how?"
"When you're ready. When you're not scared. When you choose me because you want me, not because your body's screaming at you in a dark alley." He tilts his head. "Think aboutthat later too. When you're home and safe and your brain's working again."
The countdown starts. Ten, nine, eight?—
"Go," he says.
I go.
Back into the crowd, heart racing, body still buzzing. The tree lights up—thousands of bulbs exploding into brilliance—and everyone cheers.
I'm shaking. Can still smell him on my skin.
And then I see them.
