16. Sadie
Sadie
T he hike to the creek takes us through pine-scented trails that wind up into the foothills behind town. Levi carries the picnic basket easily, his free hand occasionally touching my elbow when the path gets rocky. Each brief contact sends little jolts of awareness across my skin.
After this morning with Reid and being surrounded by all three alphas last night.
But even with the medication, my body’s hyperaware of the alpha walking beside me and how his cedar scent seems to wrap around me like a warm embrace.
Three interested alphas are testing the limits of what suppressants can handle.
“I found this place when I was eight,” he tells me as we climb higher, his voice taking on that thoughtful quality I’ve come to love. “I was feeling overwhelmed. Then I heard water and followed the sound.”
“And?”
“Peace, I guess. A place where thoughts could settle instead of constantly racing.” He glances at me, and his scent wraps around me as I move into his space, warm cedar with something deeper underneath that makes my pulse quicken.
“I used to come here when I needed to think, but lately to think about you.”
My pulse skips. “About me?”
“About whether I was imagining the connection I felt. Whether those coffee visits meant something or if I was just projecting what I wanted to see.” He pauses on the trail, turning to face me fully. “Whether someone like you could ever want someone like me.”
The vulnerability in his voice makes my chest tight with affection. “Levi.”
“I know. It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud.”
“It doesn’t sound ridiculous.” I step closer, drawn by the uncertainty in his expression. “It sounds honest.”
Before I can respond, he’s moving closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.
“Yes.”
The kiss starts gentle, tentative, but deepens when I sigh against his mouth. His other hand finds my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space between us. He tastes like something purely him that makes me dizzy with want.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all morning,” he admits, his forehead resting against mine.
“All morning?” I tease, still breathless from the kiss.
“Since high school, if I’m being honest.” His thumb traces my cheekbone, and vulnerability flickers in his expression.
“I had the biggest crush on you junior year, but you were a senior and a cheerleader, and I was just the nerdy kid who spent lunch periods in the library. I figured you’d never notice someone like me. ”
My breath catches. All those months of coffee visits, and he’s been carrying this torch since we were teenagers? “You had a crush on me in high school?”
“Massive crush. I used to watch you at football games and dream about working up the courage to talk to you.” His smile turns self-deprecating. “But then you graduated and I figured I’d missed my chance forever.”
“Levi.” My chest feels tight with emotion. “I would have noticed you. I was always too intimidated by confident people. I would have loved talking to someone who understood books and stories.”
“When you walked into my bookstore that rainy Sunday three years ago, I couldn’t believe I was getting a second chance.” His voice grows more confident. “Seeing how happy Dean became with his pack made me realize I needed to be brave. I just had to finally work up the courage to try.”
I stare at him, processing this revelation. Years. He’s wanted me for years, and I had no idea. The patient coffee deliveries, the careful attention to what I needed—it all makes sense now.
The memory makes me smile.
We continue hiking, but everything has shifted between us. His hand finds mine naturally, fingers intertwining as we walk. The casual intimacy feels both new and familiar, like something we’ve been building toward for months without realizing it.
My body hums with awareness now—every brush of his thumb across my knuckles, every breath of his deepening scent making slick gather between my thighs. Even with suppressants, I’m hyperaware of everything about him.
The trail opens onto a small meadow where a clear creek winds between smooth stones, creating natural pools that reflect the afternoon sky.
Pine trees ring the space like guardians, and wildflowers still bloom despite the October chill.
It’s absolutely magical—the kind of place that exists in fairy tales.
“Levi,” I breathe. “This is incredible.”
“I was hoping you’d like it.” He spreads a blanket near the largest pool, unpacks sandwiches and fruit and a thermos of coffee. His cedar scent mingles with the pine-fresh air, and I can detect the contentment radiating from him. “I thought we could read for a while, if that sounds good.”
He shows me the books he’s brought—poetry collections, novels, short story compilations. All clearly chosen with care, a mix of classics and contemporary works that speaks to someone who reads widely and thoughtfully.
“Pick whatever calls to you,” he says, settling beside me on the blanket close enough that our shoulders touch.
I choose a collection of nature poetry while he opens what looks like a well-worn novel.
For a while we read in comfortable silence, the sound of moving water creating the perfect soundtrack.
But I find myself distracted by his presence—the way he gets a small crease between his eyebrows when he’s concentrating, how he sometimes smiles at something in the text before realizing he’s doing it.
When I catch him watching me with an expression that makes my pulse skip, I set down my book.
“What?”
“You’re beautiful when you’re reading. Completely absorbed, like you’re living inside the story.”
Heat creeps up my neck, and my scent sweetens involuntarily. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”
“Really?”
“Really. You look like reading is as essential to you as breathing.”
We’re sitting close enough now that I can see the gold flecks in his brown eyes, can smell how his scent has grown warmer as he catches my honeysuckle response. When he reaches over to tuck a wildflower behind my ear, his fingers brush against my neck and I shiver despite the warm afternoon.
“Read to me?” I ask, my voice coming out softer than intended. “Whatever you’re reading.”
His voice is perfect for reading aloud—warm and measured, bringing the words to life without overwhelming them.
The story he’s chosen is about second chances and small communities, about finding home in unexpected places.
When he reads dialogue, he gives each character a slightly different cadence, and I find myself closing my eyes just to listen.
But having my eyes closed makes me hyperaware of everything else. The way his scent wraps around me, how his free hand comes to rest on my ankle, thumb tracing absent patterns that make heat pool low in my belly.
“You’re good at this,” I murmur during a pause, opening my eyes to find him watching me intently.
“I used to read to myself a lot as a kid. Only child, and my parents were always busy with their work at the clinic.” His voice is fond rather than bitter. “Books were my best friends most of the time.”
“Tell me about your parents.”
“Both betas, both nurses. They met at nursing school, moved here right after graduation because small towns needed healthcare workers.” He smiles, and his scent brightens with genuine affection.
“They’re practical people—they always said my designation as alpha was a surprise, but they adapted.
Raised me to use whatever strengths I had to help people. ”
“That sounds like a good way to grow up.”
“It was. Quiet, but good.” He sets the book aside and shifts so he can look at me more fully, his hand sliding higher on my leg.
“I would have liked to date the quiet kid in the library.”
“Would you?” Hope colors his voice, and his hand spreads possessively over my calf.
“Definitely. I was always too intimidated by the popular kids anyway.” I shift on the blanket, moving closer without really thinking about it.
The movement brings his hand higher up my leg, and the heat of his palm through my jeans makes me ache.
“I had a crush on an older student who seemed sophisticated and worldly.”
“And now?”
“Now I think I also love alphas who read to me by creeks and notice when I need coffee.” My voice drops to barely above a whisper. “Alphas who leave pressed flowers in my notebooks and make me feel cherished.”
The admission hangs between us, honest and vulnerable. His expression shifts, and I can see the moment it hits him—really hits him—that I’m talking about him.
“Sadie,” he says, my name rough with emotion and barely restrained want.
“Yes?”
Instead of answering with words, he kisses me again.
This time there’s nothing tentative about it.
His hands frame my face as his mouth moves against mine with years of pent-up longing finally given permission to surface.
I respond with equal intensity, my fingers fisting in his shirt to pull him closer.
When he trails kisses along my jaw to find the sensitive spot behind my ear, I can’t hold back the soft moan that escapes. The sound seems to undo something in him, because suddenly his mouth is back on mine, more desperate this time.
“I’ve thought about this so many times,” he murmurs against my lips, one hand sliding into my hair while the other traces the line of my throat. “About being alone with you somewhere beautiful.”
“Kiss me.” The words come out breathless as his thumb finds my pulse point, pressing gently until I arch into the touch.
His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head back so he can deepen the kiss. I can taste his need, can smell how his scent has turned rich and possessive. When his tongue traces the seam of my lips, I open for him eagerly, and the kiss turns consuming.