Rennick
“Shit, baby!”
The words rip out of me the second the cold water slams into my head and pours down my chest in icy rivulets. It soaks straight through the gray sweats I dragged on when I shifted back—after watching the McNamara SUV roll through my gates and then keeping my eyes on their taillights until they were gone.
As soon as I could, I turned and ran. I ran like my lungs belonged to her and my legs were only worth a damn so long as they could carry me to Noa.I told her I’d return to her soon as I could, and I don’t break promises to her. Not anymore.
I didn’t stop long enough to think about what state I’d find her in, only that I needed to get to her. The moment I stepped through the front doors, I knew something was wrong. Her scent wrapped around me like a silk sheet of sugar and fig, decadent enough to make my teeth ache, but there was an edge to it that put me on alert. Too sweet. Too sharp.
Omega perfume always carries sweeter notes, but when those notes spike to a dizzying level it means one of two things. Distress or arousal.
And hers had teeth in it.
My omega was upset.
Pulse in my throat, I took the stairs two a time looking for her.
I wasn’t prepared to find her curled in my closet, wrapped up in a nest of my clothes and bedding looking dazed, small,and heartbreakingly soft. The sight of her in there was also so painfully natural and intimate that it gutted me in the best way.
My mate. My omega. My girl.
Building her first nest in my space, wrapped in my scent, using my things because she trusted,finally, that she had a place here.
I’m so fucking gone for her.
Hearing her say she believed me on that stage was one thing, but this unguarded display of trust—letting herself be vulnerable and claiming a piece of my room as hers—has made it all real in a way I can really accept.
I’d really done it. I’d found my way back to Noa.
But when I’d cross farther into the closet to get to her, I was reminded of another hard lesson.
Surfacing omega instincts come with a storm behind them. Volatile emotions, sharp needs, a body fighting to find a center of gravity again. Noa’s new to all of it. She’s trying to learn how to exist in something she never had the chance to feel before.
And now I’ve only made it worse by showing up smelling like another woman.
It doesn’t matter that all I did was catch Talis’s arm before she bolted. It doesn’t matter that it meant nothing and never did. It was still a mistake. One that belongs entirely to me.
Poor Noa. One moment she’s trying to settle into a nest she didn’t know she needed. The next, she’s flooded with jealousy and panic that rises so fast she can’t contain it.
I hate that I’m the reason she’s in this state, but the part of me that’s always greedy for her? Yeah, it’s fucking delighted that she cares enough to react like this.
I’m, admittedly, less tickled pink by the whole thing since her reaction has led to her dragging me into the shower and dousing us with water cold enough it could have come straight from a glacier for all I know.
Keeping my hand on her side to hold her close, I reach with the other to crank the shower warmer. The handle squeaks under my harsh grip as I turn it. Not willing to wait for the arctic punishment to transition into something a little more hospitable, I twist out front under the direct stream and bring her with me. While this may have been her play, I’m less willing to let her freeze.
The move puts my back against the far wall, our bodies tucked in the corner. Noa’s pressed tight to my chest, and I expect her to settle into it, to let me anchor her for a second.
I quickly learn how wrong I am.
She fights, pushing against me with that small, stubborn strength of hers.
Chin dipped to her chest, Noa’s dark hair sticks to her cheeks, hiding most of her expression, but I hear the low, unhappy noises starting in her throat. Not human. Not fully. Her wolf is right there under her skin, rattling the bars. I loosen my grip just enough for her to move. She wastes no time reaching for my right hand, her delicate fingers digging into the skin of my wrist as she yanks it toward her face.
I go still. And my breath catches so hard it hurts when she drags her cheek across my palm. Then she’s turning her head, doing the same with the other side. Slow and deliberate. It’s as if she’s trying to scrub away anything that doesn’t belong there until all that’s left is the sugared spice of her own perfume.
Understanding slams into me.
My mate is scent marking me.
