“Don’t give up,” Amara commands. If she were an alpha, it may be considered a bark. “Don’t back down. She needs you to keep pushing, Rennick. Noa needs you to make her whole again. Thalassa knew how important your bond to her daughter was, that’s why she warned me about this all those years ago. I think she knew she wouldn’t be here to do it herself.”
Her name straightens me before I even register moving, my spine locking like iron. Thalassa. She’s already been circlingthe edges of my thoughts all morning. My dream of her still fresh, her cryptic message echoing. But now my mind runs feral, questions tumbling over each other. Why she warned Amara about our bond. How she knew Noa was mine long before either of us did. What “safeguards” she supposedly left behind. Why she fled with Noa at all.
“Thalassa,” I mutter, her name a summons and a curse in the same breath. The sound seems to stir the air itself and sage blooms faintly in the breeze as though her ghost still lingers nearby. My wolf tenses and hot emotion burns in my veins. “Just how badly did that weaver fuck with my relationship with my mate?”
Amara’s words are careful. “I don’t have all the answers. Thalassa wasn’t forthcoming with her secrets. She only shared what I needed to know in case she wasn’t here to intervene herself. And what I was told was that your bond to Noa is vital and can’t be severed. That it needs to be protected.”
Her gaze drops to the yard.
I follow it and the rest of the world narrows.
Noa is pushing up the incline, one arm clamped over her mouth, her small body racked with coughs that look like they’re tearing her apart. The breaths in my chest catch at the sight and my wolf whines. My fingers dig into the rail hard enough that the wood complains. Instinct rides me hard. It wants me to go down there, to gather her up, to take the hurt and carry it myself.
If only it were that easy.
Noa looks up. Those two-toned eyes find me, and she goes pale.
Beside me Amara says, almost gently, “I think it’s time you two have a real conversation.”
I don’t have to voice my agreement because I’m already moving, pushing away from the railing and going in search of my omega.
Chapter 14
Rennick
Imake it to the entryway at the same time Noa comes up from the basement stairs. She doesn’t spare me a glance, doesn’t slow when she turns toward the main staircase that climbs to the top floor where our bedrooms are. Her arm is still braced across her mouth, her shoulders curled inward as though she can muffle the sound of her ragged breaths. The coughing has eased, but she’s still fighting for air, each intake sharp and too shallow. The sound twists my stomach tight.
I follow after her, keeping at a distance so I don’t crowd her. By the time I reach the top landing, she’s nowhere to be seen but her bedroom door has been left wide open.
Standing in the threshold, I hesitate to step over the invisible barrier that’s kept me on this side of the doorway since I first showed her to this room the night she arrived here. But the innate draw to go to her is strong, strong enough to override the respect I’ve wanted to show to her boundaries.
Stepping into her room, her space, is like stepping into a cloud of specially made cocaine. It’s a formula made just for me, made to infect my bloodstream and give me the greatest high of my life. Warm brown sugar and spiced fig. Her scent envelops me, swallowing me whole, and for half a heartbeat, I allow myself to bask in it. Within me, my wolf stretches out, savoring each sweet inhale.
I cut the indulgence short, sooner than either of us is ready for, and turn to the bathroom door. My feet move before thought catches up.
Behind the door, a steady stream of water sounds. Beneath the splashing, I can still make out her uneven intakes of breath. The horrific coughs still seem to be letting her be for now. My hand finds the door handle without thinking, instinct drawing me closer, the need to go to her louder than any reason. At the last second, I stop myself from bursting in like I want to. Instead, I find a single thread of something that resembles restraint, and my knuckles brush the wood.
I rap twice.
“Noa?” Afraid I’ll startle her if I speak too loudly, her name scrapes out of my throat softly.
Silence.
I knock again, firmer, my voice rising. “Sweet one? Are you okay?”
The pause is long enough to make my stomach pit and thoughts of shouldering through the wooden door cross my mind again.
But finally, she answers me. It’s nothing more than a hoarse, cracked sound. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.”
I shut my eyes briefly, jaw tight.
It’s a bullshit lie.
I’ve already seen the truth written across her skin, the pale cast of her face, the dull light in her eyes when they flicked up to mine. My mate is unraveling before me, and every second I do nothing feels like I’m betraying her again.
“Are you sure?” I press, the words rougher than I mean them to be. My fear bleeds through, sharpening every syllable, twisting concern into something that resembles a demand. I want her like a dying man wants water. “That cough didn’t sound fine.”
“I just breathed wrong, I guess. Choked on my spit or something embarrassing like that.” Her voice comes out painfully casual, tossed out like it’s nothing, like that flimsyexcuse could ever be enough to appease me. She thinks it’ll satisfy my concern.
