And I can’t even blame him for the way he’s fraying at the edges. It was only a matter of time before the weight of everything caught up with him. Distracting himself between my thighs was only feasible for so long.
Last night was a lot. First, he learned the truth about my impending heat, and as if that wasn’t enough, we were dragged into that nightmare my mother left behind—forced to act as witnesses to the trauma we’d lived through and then were forced to forget.
And Revelations like that don’t sink quietly into bones. They shake the whole damn foundation.
After our bath, he continues to give a valiant effort at pretending all of it is sitting fine within him. Holds the line through getting ready for the day, through breakfast, even through handing me my daily vanilla latte with a smile that stops short of his eyes.
Ialmostbelieve him.
It all comes to a head over the dirty juice cup he’s cleaning at the sink. The innocent glass never stood a chance against him, and it all but explodes into glitter in his tense grip.The sound of it shattering makes me jump where I stand at the fridge, putting away leftovers.
Dodging glass shards, I make my way to him and wordlessly hold the dish rag to the fresh cuts on his palm. His hand trembles in my hold, but I know it’s not pain causing it.
“Okay, you’re done,” I tell him softly, but firm, trying to be the steady one for both of us. “Go. Let your wolf out and run it off, Ren. If you keep this up, you’ll be gnawing on the furniture like a teething puppy by lunch.”
His protest is immediate.
“I don’t need to run,” he snaps, his voice low and hoarse. “What I need is to stay here, close to you, and make sure this damn…sickness…doesn’t have you bleeding from your fucking nose or you passing out on me forhoursagain.”
It takes effort to not recoil from the force of his tone, and I have to remind myself that this isn’t anger. It’s fear wearing its sharpest edges. But I’d be lying if I said that a part of me didn’t quietly agree with him or harbor the same fear. I know the second he steps away, the decay currently waiting in the wings will be eager to reoccupy whatever space he vacates.
I draw a careful breath and remind him of the crucial fact that he’s overlooking. “I spent nearly eighteen hours curled up inthe nest with you. Sleeping on your chest. Stealing your strength. I feel…good right now.” Nearly whole again. Not fully out of danger, though, but I can at least breathe without flinching. “And because of your borderline obsessive attention to detail when bathing me this morning, I’mthoroughlycoated in your scent.”
His alpha musk tangles thickly with my own sweetening omega perfume, leaving it impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. Every inhale soothes the raised scars I collected when my body was trying to decide whether or not it wanted to live without him.
It’s not confused anymore.
Our bond still might be frayed, but my body knows exactly who it belongs to.
Rennick’s nostrils flare as he draws in a deep breath, like he needs to reassure himself that I smell enough like him. His eyes darken in response, my scent tugging at the already restless animal beneath his skin.
“Noa…”
He’s still not convinced.
Fine.
I release his hand, dropping the bloodstained towel with it, and hook my fingers into the hem of his Henley instead. I drag it up his sculped torso until my arms can’t reach any farther. He takes over without a word. No confusion. No resistance. He just calmly stands there and allows me to steal the shirt right off his back before helping me pull it over my own head.
“There.” I grin up at him. “See? Your too big shirt is like my own personal armor.”
“As much as I adore seeing you in my clothes, sweet girl, we agreed this wasn’t a long-term solution,” he reminds me, his attention pointed as his big hands help smooth the mussedstrands of my hair that’s now staticky hair. “And it’s the furthest thing from areliableone.”
When his palms come up to cup my face, I catch his wrists and hold tight. “I know,” I tell him. No defensiveness. Just truth. “But we’re not talking about long-term right now. We’re talking about you going on a run. I just need enough so I can stand on my own while you’re gone.” I pause. “And you won’t be gone long. Right?”
He shakes his head immediately. “Of course not. Just a quick run to the northern border to check in with Rook.”
He doesn’t spell out why he wants to head up there, but he doesn’t have to. Rook Draven and the men he brought will him are currently stationed up at that boundary line. They’re temporarily filling the void the McNamara sentinels left there, but they’re also guarding against any possible retaliation from that very pack after Ren’s very public and dramatic dismissal of them.
Somewhere between the broken pockets of sleep we kept falling into last night—neither of us easily settling after that dream—we’d talked and I asked about Rook. The foreign alpha who showed up in a blur and tackled Siggy and me out of Cathal’s path so fast my body hadn’t caught up until it slammed into the ground. The bruise on my hip today acting as a lovely reminder.
Turns out, Rook is the Alpha heir of the Seattle-based wolf pack. He’s also Rennick’s best friend from college. Oh, and his business partner.
Because, apparently, my mate has a job.
Who fucking knew?
He co-owns a private equity group with Rook. They started it right after graduation, building it from nothing but a loan from Rook’s father and the inheritance Rennick’s grandfather—on ismother’sside—left him. All of it was done in defiance of Merritt,who’d wanted his son back home where he could mold him in his image. Thank the Goddess Rennick refused. All those years he spent away from this territory, mourning something he couldn’t name, he'd built something of his own.
