I reluctantly lower her feet gently to the ground, though I refuse to let her go completely. Bending low, I brush my jaw along her temple, marking her again, leaving another whisper of my scent behind. She shudders, and I press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth.
I don’t know if she realizes that she leans into it, but it has another wave of triumph running through me.
“It was scheduled far before everything that’s happened. Postponing isn’t an option for this one.” It’s a half truth, but not a flat-out lie.
She studies me, wary but not pushing, and gives a slow nod. Her trust, fragile and cautious, threads between us like a humming current.
And as I look at her, flushed and breathless and wearing my scent mark, I know one thing for certain. Whatever it takes, whatever comes next, I’ll see this through.
For my omega.
This time, I’m the one who reaches out. A silent offer. Just my hand waiting for hers. My wolf purrs when she slips her fingers into mine without hesitation, but the sound cuts off when he catches the chill of her skin.
“Come on,” I murmur, steering us back toward the embankment we’d climbed down earlier. “We should head back before you freeze.”
“I’m fine.” Her chin tips up, defiant as ever. Stubborn to the bone. My girl.
“I know you are, baby.” I humor her because it’s easier than the truth that’s still pressing in on us. She looks better that she did before with color in her cheeks and a little spark back, but beneath the arousal-induced flush in her cheeks, sickness still festers. Standing out here in the cool wind won’t do her any favors.
I draw her against me, sharing what warmth I can, hoping it counts for something.
I’m fighting back the dark thoughts that’ve clawed their way up, the reminders of what’s slowly consuming her never far from my mind, when she tugs on my hand, pulling us to a stop. I glance down to find her staring at the creek again, brows drawn tight, heavy with something I can’t read.
“We still don’t know why she did it,” she says quietly, sounding lost in thought. “Why we left. Why Mom thought she had to go to such extremes to keep me away.”
Thalassa’s words echo through my mind, the warning in them as sharp as it was the first time I heard them.
“She told me it wasn’t safe here,” I admit. “She said she had to keep you away until the danger was gone.”
Noa frowns and looks as unsettled as I’ve felt since I woke up this morning after hearing this.
“What could have scared my mom enough to do this?”
My thumb traces along her jaw, the need to keep touching her wherever I can reach refusing to let go. “I don’t know,” I admit, hating the words as soon as they leave me. “But we’re going to figure it out, Noa. All of it. Together.”
I’ve made many promises to Noa, each one I’ve meant with every beat of my heart, but this is the first time she’s looked back at me with faith in her gaze after. And it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs.
“I believe you.”
Chapter 16
Noa
People love to say a good night’s sleep fixes everything, as if rest is some kind of cure-all for decay. What are you supposed to do when the ache in your bones won’t quiet long enough to let you drift under? When every turn in the bed feels like a punishment?
I’d fought it for hours, rolling, shoving at blankets, searching for a position that didn’t make me flinch, before finally giving up and dragging myself from the bed. It’s been an hour, maybe more, and the exhaustion still sits heave behind my eyes. I’d give anything to slip into oblivion for a while—into the weightlessness of unconsciousness—because maybe there, I could get a respite from the constant pull of this sickness gnawing at me from within.
Instead, I stand in front of the window with my temple resting against the black metal frame. I watch the lake below and the way the half-moon above makes the water’s surface look like mercury.The chill bleeding through the glass barely competes with the chill that’s already made itself at home beneath my skin. The way my muscles tense and constrict with each violent shiver only makes the relentless ache seep deeper and become sharper.
Once again, my layered clothing does little to nothing to help insulate me. My thick sweats and socks paired with Rennick’s sweater—the one my hand had reached for and stolen from the banister before my conscious mind even knew what we were doing—are useless soldiers in my fight against the cold. Evenmy blanket cocooned around me is little more than a fuzzy decoration at this point.
My mind drifts to the last time I felt warm. No, not even just warm. Hot to the point of overheating.
The phantom caress of Rennick’s touch ghosts across my skin. His mouth, his hands, the heat of his body pressed against mine. Every inch of him felt steady, immoveable. Strong enough to carry me, to protect me from anything, warm enough to melt the frost from my bones.
It’s funny how easily the body confuses comfort for cure. His touch had done that to me—tricked my body into thinking it was whole again. Made it forget for that stolen moment that it’s dying. But then Rennick leaves, and it all comes back. Harder. Crueler. Like it’s punishment for experiencing a sliver of relief.
Rennick’s been stretched thin the last two days between patrol rotations and planning whatever celebration the pack insists on throwing this weekend. Still, he finds me. Always does. A hand at my back, a brush of his fingers against mine. Those small touches chase the worst of the sickness away for a heartbeat or two, but never long enough. Not like that kiss.
