“A few miles outside Silverthorne.” My grip tightens on the wheel as my other hand reaches for Noa again. I cup the side of her neck, thumb brushing along her delicate jaw. It’s what little comfort I can offer right now. She melts into it, trying to nuzzle closer, hunting for the physical contact I can’t give her yet.
“Shit,” Canaan curses under his breath, and I hear him relay the information to someone else.
A moment later, Rhosyn’s distant voice floats through the car’s speakers. “They didn’t make it through in time—the pass is closed already. Plows haven’t been able to get in yet, either. They won’t be able to make it home for hours—if at all tonight.”
“Did you hear that, Nick?” my second-in-command asks.
I swallow hard. “I heard.”
The prospect of being stuck in town overnight was bad enough on its own, but it’s worse now that Noa is actively tipping into a heat spike—and not the mild ones she’d already admitted to having. She told me they were usually small.
This does not appear small.
Beside me, Noa shifts again, her back bowing and hips lifting, and that’s when her scent reaches me fully. Her slick. Her arousal. Sweet and warm in that way that’s distinctly her. It sinks straight into my bloodstream and summons my wolf and cock. My beastly half answers with a sound that is a half-snarl, half-pleased rumble, and I have to swallow it down before it escapes me. There’s nothing I can do to stop the blood and arousal from rushing low. My shaft hardens, pressing uncomfortably to the zipper of my jeans. At the base, the telltale pressure of my knot starting to swell makes itself known. There’s nothing that can quite make an alpha lose all semblance of control than the scent of his omega’s slick.Fuck me.
Noa whines and the desperation in the small noise lands straight in my chest. Her distress claws at every instinct I have to tend to her, to steady her, to make this better.
“Nick?” Canaan’s voice cuts through the heady mist starting to fill my head. “You still there?”
“I’m here,” I snap. “But I’ve got a problem. Noa’s in the middle of a heat spike. A bad one.”
Canaan curses in sympathy. “Can you pull over and…you know, help her through it?” he asks, but before I can answer, I hear a sharp slap and his startled yelp. “Ouch!What the hell, Rosie? Why are you slapping the back of my head?”
“Rennick’s not pulling over to fuck Noa on the side of the road like some bad or secret hookup,” Rhosyn cuts in flatly. “Come one, Cane, that’s hismate. He’s got more standards than that.” It may be blunt and crude—typical Rhosyn—but she’s not wrong. If it comes down to it, of course, I’ll do whatever isnecessary to help Noa. I just refuse to allow this to be the only solution I consider. “Nick?” Rhosyn continues, clearly having taken control of the phone since her voice is crisper now. “How close are you to the motel? I’ll call and get you a room—make sure it’s ready for you before you get there. You guys are going to need somewhere warm to wait out the plows anyway.”
Thank the Goddess for this woman.
“We’re still a few miles out,” I answer, already looking back at Noa. She looks undone, heat and pain pulling her apart from the inside. Guilt is immediate. Familiar and unwelcome. This is another moment where she’s hurting and I can’t fix it. Not yet. It feels too much like all the other times I was the source of her pain instead of the one who stopped it.
“I’ll call the motel,” Rhosyn tells me. “Just focus on getting there safe and taking care of our girl.”
Despite the tension, I can hear the teasing smile in her voice. She knows I’m already on edge, my possessive instincts riding me hard. And she’s pushing me on purpose by invoking a shared claim on Noa.
My warning growl is cut off when the line goes dead and the silence that follows is heavy as heavy as the storm pressing in around us. I flex my fingers gently on Noa’s neck until her eyes find mine again.
“I just need you to hold on for a few more minutes,” I plead, keeping my voice steady even as stress grinds it rough. “We’re almost there, and then I promise I’ll make it better, baby.”
Chapter 35
Rennick
True to Rhosyn’s word, there’s a room for us waiting when I pull into the motel parking lot with more speed than probably advisable. Of course there is. If there’s one thing Rhosyn Roarke—or Davies, depending on the day and her mood—does better than anyone I know, it’s making things happen when everything else is seemingly on fire.
The motel manager is already there, bundled head to toe in fur-lined winter gear, an old-fashioned room key dangling from a thick metal ring looped around his finger. He lifts a hand when he spots me, like he’s been waiting outside the lobby doors since he ended the call with my pack member. How Rhosyn managed to make sure he’d knowwhohe was waiting for, I don’t know. I don’t question it. I just register it as one more thing I’ll owe her for later.
The moment I lift Noa from the passenger seat, the man’s expression shifts from curiosity to concern. His brow creases as he watches her curl tighter into my chest, a small, cracked sound slipping from her parted lips as I nudge the car door closed.
“Is she okay?” he asks as I approach, voice hesitant.
Rationally, I know this human male isn’t a threat. Not to Noa. Not to my relationship with her. But my wolf is riding too close to the surface, drawn tight by her distress, to decern between genuine concern and perceived competition for our mate’s attention. Ridiculous? More than likely. But nuance has never been where he thrives when he’s in this kind of state.
“Which room?” I grind out between clenched molars because offering him even a sliver of information about my precious cargo is out of the question.
He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He turns immediately, his boots crunching through multiple inches of snow, leading the way down the row of doors without another word.
The motel is exactly what I thought it’d be up close. Two stories. Log cabin-style exterior. Walk-up rooms with heavy wooden doors and a singular frosted glass window. A hunter’s true haven during those annual seasons when they flock to this region. The whole building looks untouched by time, little to no cosmetic updates made since it was built.
It’s rustic and well-worn, but more importantly, it’s warm, well-maintained, andprivate.
