His brows knit. “When?”
“Tomorrow?”
He pauses, clearly balancing his responsibilities against my wants, and guilt flickers through me for stealing so much of his attention.Then I think about the years that were taken from us, the better part of a decade spent apart while our bond stretched itself thin just to endure the distanceand damage. We’re still piecing ourselves back together from that. And that’s why I decide hoarding him for myself isn’t indulgent. It’s overdue.
“I think we can make that work,” he says finally.
“Really?” I question, a little surprised by his easy acceptance. “Are you sure? I’d say I could go alone or take Canaan, but we both know that’s not an option.”
I can barely handle when he’s not in the same room as me, so a different zip code is out of the question.
He bends down and nips at my bottom lip, playful and claiming in the same heartbeat “If you think I’m letting you leave this territory without me, you’ve lost your damn mind, baby.” He kisses the smile he draws from me before adding, “Between Canaan, Amara, Cerys, and now Rook, I’m comfortable leaving for a day. We’ll head out early and be back before dinner.”
“You’re sure?” I ask again, searching his face.
“Your Nightingales’ comfort matters to you,” he tells me simply, fingertips skimming along my jaw. “And you matter to me.” His gaze locks with mine. “Being in your presence isn’t a burden, sweet one. It’s what allows me to breathe and endure everything else. And some time away—alone—will be good for us.”
Chapter 34
Rennick
I’m standing in the middle of a big box store, obnoxious fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, following after my mate as she disappears down another aisle with a shopping cart she can barely see over.
Everything about it should be irritating. The noises. The smell of strangers, the cheap detergent they use to mop the floors, and artificial perfumes. The way people have no sense of personal space and walk too closely. On any other day, it’d all put me on edge and have me searching for the nearest exit.
Instead, I happily watch after Noa and the way she moves through this place as if nothing else exists. It’s the kind of single-minded focused usually reserved for a hunt. She flits from one department to the next, hands skimming fabric, pausing to press material between her fingers or against her cheek. Her head tilting as she weighs textures, weights, and degrees of warmth with reverent deliberation. It’s not about what looks right. It’s only about whatfeelsright.
I’m almost positive she stopped being aware of what she’s doing about ten minutes into our arrival.
Her omega nature has taken over completely, guiding her from one item to the next. Driven by pure instinct, the rest of her seems to have gone dormant. I push a second cart behind her, already loaded down with what I’m pretty sure is a mix of necessities and things she hasn’t consciously realized she’s collected yet. We came here for Hattie and Elio. Nesting supplies. Clothes. Things they need but won’t outright ask for.Maybe something small for Siggy if Noa spots the right thing. But at this point, I’ve stopped trying to tell what’s meant for the Nightingales and what Noa’s quietly claimed for herself.
I don’t question her and I sure as hell don’t stop her.
No, I could watch her do this all day.
It’s the simplicity of it that throws me. Running errands with my mate. It’s such a mundane task, and I never believed I’d earn this moment. Not after how close I came to losing her before we could reclaim what was originally stolen from us. The way she softens and relaxes in my presences fills my chest with a weight I welcome—gratitude braided tightly with awe. Moments like this pull my thoughts forward, toward a future that finally feels within reach. It’s one where the coven has been dealt with, Cathal is nothing but a name I don’t have to hear anymore, and this simple, unremarkable peace is something we get to keep.
The cart in front of me creaks softly under the weight of Noa’s haul as I follow her up another row lined with pillows and blankets. One would think between the two overflowing carts, that she realistically already has enough of both, but nesting doesn’t work that way. You don’t count or try to rationalize. You just respond to whatever that innate itch tells you.
And it’s not as if I’m concerned with the cost.
Apex Equity Group, my business with Rook, has exceeded all initial expectations. That success is the reason I’ve been able to step back from the day-to-day dealings and put my focus on things that need it most. Leading this pack. Protecting my mate. We have competent people in place now, managing the logistics and the endless coordination that once demanded my frequent involvement. And one day when Rook’s father steps down and it’s his turn to step into the mantle of pack Alpha, Rook will take advantage of the same freedoms and reap the benefits I have.
At present, that benefit looks a lot like getting to watch my mate fall in love with another throw pillow.
For that I consider myself a lucky bastard.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and the interruption has irritation flaring before I can stop it. I check the screen and see Canaan’s name.
Canaan Roarke: You keeping an eye on the weather down there? Conditions are getting rough up here.
Shit.
No. I haven’t been watching anything beyond Noa. I’ve been standing here pretending the world will hold still if I don’t look too closely at it.
Rennick Fallamhain: How bad?
The response comes fast.
