He didn’t go into specifics, but I know success when I smell it. My alpha has done extremely well for himself. Probably more than he’ll ever say. And the best part? Merritt’s fingerprints are nowhere near it. That alone makes me stupid proud of Ren.
All of this was news to me and evidence of how much I still don’t know about my mate. And I crave to know it all. I want to learn him in full, the meaningful moments and the insignificant ones, every detail that makes him who he is.
“Okay, then get moving,” I start, ushering him out of the kitchen and toward the glass doors that lead to the back deck. “The sooner you leave the faster you can come back to me.”
He’s still dragging his feet and when I slide the door open, he doesn’t move to step through
I frown at him.
He frowns right back.
I’m not proud of how stubborn I can be, but if this is some kind of battle of wills, I admire his optimism.
“I don’t need to go. My wolf will be fine,” he insists, like saying it might make it true. But I can almost feel the restless pacing beneath his skin, his animal wound tight and unhappy. I know that feeling. I know what it does to you when your wolf isn’t let out. And I won’t let his stay caged. I adore that hulking creature far too much to tolerate that.
I huff a breath. “Listen. I’m painfully aware that I’m the fragile one here, but I refuse to watch you neglect your own well-being while you’re too busy watching over mine.”
“Yours is the only one worth me concerning myself over.”
Half of me softens instantly, warmed by the devotion in his voice. Then the other half of me bristles, because caring for me shouldn’t come at the cost of himself. Or his wolf.
But he’s also just shown his cards and handed me the opening I need. “Remind me again how you plan to care for me when your wolf grows so restless—and resentful—that he takes over and leaves you trapped in the back seat of your own body?” I level him with a pointed look. “We both know he’s capable of that.”
It was his wolf who ran over state lines to get to me in Ashvale.
It’s in the way Rennick’s face tightens, then softens, his shoulders dropping in quiet surrender, that I know I’ve won.
“I’ll be gone for an hour,” he relents, stiff, like each word costs him. “And then I’m running back to you.”
Smiling brightly—triumphantly—I lean up on my toes to kiss is jaw. “Oh, that’s a great idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”
He scowls, but the corner of his mouth betrays him, twitching as he fights a smile. “You’re trouble.”
“I prefer…aggressively attentive.” My smile fades into something softer as I speak the quiet truth of who I am.“Someone has to worry so everyone else can breathe,” I add with a small shrug. “I’ve just always been good at it.”
For a split second, his expression tightens, like something in my admission lands deeper in him than I intended. He hides it quickly, then lowers his head until our foreheads touch. “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself anymore,” he murmurs gently. “I’m here. Let me be the one who makes sure you’re also breathing.”
My heart trips over itself. A reflex born of necessity has the words primed on my tongue before my thoughts can catch up to muscle memory—the ones that tell him I can handle it, that I’ve been doing exactly that for months now, ever since Mom’s caraccident. I had no other choice. But they die before I can breathe life into them.
Because he’s here. And he isn’t asking me to surrender myself or my purpose. He’s offering support. Partnership.
From experience, that’s something so few omegas are offered from their alphas.
My eyes flutter closed and I let the fight drain out of me.
“Okay.” It’s one word, a simple agreement, but it lands with heavier meaning.
But it’s all it takes. His lips are on mine before I can think to offer him anything else. The kiss is deep and unhurried, as if he’s rewarding me for this gift of trust I’ve placed in his hands.
When he pulls back, his voice is warm against my lips. “Good girl.”
His praise sends my head spinning, almost as much as the kiss did.
He releases me and finally steps through the open door. “I’ll be back soon, sweet Noa.”
I stand in the doorway and watch him surrender to the shift—his smooth, powerful body bowing for the massive dark wolf residing within. Rennick’s wolf glances over his shoulder once, those pale, ghostly eyes carrying every ounce of tension his human half was struggling under. A quiet chuff rolls from his chest, an apology and a promise in one breath, and then he’s flying down the deck stairs. He melts into the tree line at the yard’s edge below and a moment later, a howl tears through the midmorning air, sharp and commanding, and somewhere deep in the territory, a dozen more voices rise to answer their Alpha.
Inside me, my own wolf stirs. She lifts her head, wanting to answer her mate, wanting to join the symphony. But the sound never leaves my throat. Her mournful cry stays trapped inside my ribs, unheard by anyone but me.
