9. Noa #2
He doesn’t argue. Just shifts around me and opens my door like it’s second nature, like it’s something he’s been doing for me for years. I give him a sidelong glare for the easy gallantry, but he only smirks at me, again, as I climb in.
The buckle clicks, and I feel his eyes on me the whole time, sharp and focused, like he needs to see me secure with his own eyes.
He keeps his hand on the door, doesn’t close it, just leans in until his minty breath ghosts over my temple.
“You’re wrong, Noa,” he murmurs, voice like velvet over gravel.
“My territory isn’t my home. You are. These last twenty-four hours made that so painfully clear to me.
Edie said it best—you’re the North Star. And I’ll follow you anywhere.”
He shuts the door before I can get a single word out.
Probably for the best because whatever may have slipped past my lips would’ve been nonsense or something far too close to the truth I’m still choking down.
So, I just sit there, gaping like some stunned goldfish, while something reckless and traitorous flares in my chest, my stomach flipping as I watch him stride around the hood of the Jeep.
Rennick slides into the driver’s seat of my car like he owns it, but he doesn’t turn it on yet.
He leans back, his sun-tanned, corded arm reaching into the back seat and pulling out an oatmeal-colored blanket.
He drapes it across my lap. It’s one of my favorites from my bedroom.
I hadn’t packed it, completely forgot about it in the chaos of everything else, but Rennick… he went back for it.
“It’s already late,” he murmurs as the engine rumbles to life. “We’ve got a few hours before we’re there. Try to get some sleep, sweet one.”
The blanket is soft under my fingertips, and I swear I can feel a layer of ice cracking from around my heart. This simple, thoughtful gesture has it melting away like it’s been warmed by the sun. And that terrifies me.
But I guess it doesn’t scare me bad enough to reject his suggestion because not long after pulling out of my driveway, I’m curling against the seat and pulling the fabric closer. We’re no more than five miles outside of Ashvale when my eyes fall shut.
“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intended, but I double down anyway. “Nope. Not happening.”
We stand in the grand entryway of his sprawling mountain-lodge-style home.
Just like the exterior, the interior has all the rustic charm of a cabin but the clean, contemporary lines of modern architecture.
The place really is a thing of beauty with its exposed beams, steel-framed floor-to-ceiling windows that give full panoramic views during the day, and large rooms. And I may have been able to appreciate it more if I wasn’t currently having a battle of wills with an infuriatingly stubborn alpha male.
The drive here had been a piece of cake for me, but that’s probably because I’d been lost to this world until we reached the iron gates of his territory that is tucked far into the Selkirk mountain range.
Wrapped in the warm blanket he’d brought me and his scent, the hollowness in my chest and the persistent ache that reached all the way to my soul had been silenced by my close proximity to Rennick on the drive here.
It allowed me to sleep like the dead. It was the kind of sleep that recharged the battery of my soul.
Groggy, and still warm from my nap, I hadn’t been paying attention to where we were when he pulled into the circular drive of his house, and then when he’d come around and opened my door, I hadn’t hesitated to follow him inside.
It was around the time he went back out and started bringing my bags in that my alarm bells started going off.
“I’m not staying here, Rennick,” I repeat, blanket clutched tight against my middle like it can shield me from the intensity of his scent in the air.
Leather. Vetiver. Mint.
Enticing.
It’s so much stronger here, saturating every surface and fabric.
My wolf is practically humming over it, her tail wagging and nose raised as she breathes in greedy gulps.
To her animal mind, this is his den. Her mate’s.
And she thinks curling up here is the only right answer.
She can’t fathom leaving to join the others at the cabins a mile or so away, the ones Rennick had offered up to everyone when we set this plan into motion.
To my wolf, not staying here with Rennick is a crime against nature, but me? I think it’s playing with fire.
“You said it yourself.” Throughout my little temper tantrum, Rennick’s voice has stayed even and maddeningly calm.
Which is making me want to shake him. “Omegas don’t share nests.
My house is the only place on the territory with enough extra rooms that they won’t have to bunk up.
Everyone will have their own space here. Including you.”
I don’t doubt this for a second. It’s been years since I’ve freely walked the Fallamhain Alpha estate, but in that time this place has changed.
Updated. Expanded. There was a decent enough number of bedrooms back when I was a girl and Merritt Fallamhain governed this pack.
I can’t fathom how many more there have been added with the renovations they’ve made to the property.
Which means I can’t even use lack of space as a halfway decent excuse for why I shouldn’t stay here.
And worse, he’s also right about omegas needing their own space.
I know better than anyone there’s not much an omega will go feral over, but if you encroach on their nest—or if you’re brave, their mate—and taint either with an outsider’s scent, you’ll learn just how fast an omega will bare their teeth.
It’s why in my sanctuary every Nightingale had a designated nesting room that was solely theirs.
He’s right. He’s being reasonable. And somehow that only makes me angrier because reason doesn’t mean a thing to the riot of emotions burning in my chest. It doesn’t ease the panic of wondering what will happen to my already fragile resolve if I’m forced to live under the same roof as him.
And that’s why I don’t back down. “I’m sure there’s a way we can all fit in a cabin. I don’t need a room. I can sleep on a couch. Or a sleeping bag on the floor. I’m not picky. Or spoiled. It’ll be fine.”
His eyes cut to me, sharp, and for a second, I think he’s going to laugh at my stubbornness. Instead, his voice takes on a growly edge. “I’m not letting my mate—” He freezes mid-sentence, and the singular word hangs heavy in the air.
I go stiff. So does he.
The silence is deafening.
His throat bobs, swallowing thickly once, before continuing on.
His voice now quiet, but no less immovable as before.
“You need your own space, Noa. You’re an omega too, whether you’ve formally presented as one or not.
The thought of you curling up on a sofa—or worse, the fucking floor—like a stray dog is unacceptable.
I won’t let that happen. Not here. Not anywhere. ”
The words are meant to be protective, even sincere, and maybe a piece of me does absorb them that way, but mostly they just feel like a spark on dry kindling. Maybe it’s the slip of the M-word still lingering between us, but, whatever the reason, my temper flares.
I fling my hands in the air, nearly tangling myself in the blanket I won’t put down, and let out a laugh that’s more bark than humor.
Like a last line of defense, my last playing card if you will, I snap.
“Oh okay, because that’ll go over super well with your betrothed.
I’m sure she’ll just love to hear you’ve moved me into your house.
Probably show up here ready to claw my fucking eyes out the second she hears the news. ”
His scoff is instantaneous, dark. “Talis is handled.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue, some innate, primal reflex flaring to snap my teeth at the mention of her name and demand he not let it pass his lips in my presence again. But by some miracle of restraint, or maybe the Goddess herself, I swallow it.
Earlier today, when Canaan had said something similar—how they had a plan for Talis—I’d managed to shrug it off with apathetic sarcasm.
But hearing the same vague promise from Rennick doesn’t scrape, it digs.
It grates under my skin and pisses me off in a way Canaan’s words hadn’t, simply because it’s him.
“Handled,” I repeat instead, letting the sarcasm drip from every syllable as I shift my weight and cock a hip.
“Well, then. I suppose all is well in the world since the almighty Alpha says so.” I gnash my teeth together in a grin that’s more bite than smile.
“Guess I’ll just stop worrying about her, and that giant pink elephant in the room, altogether since you’ve got it so under control. ”
That’s when he moves. A measured step, then another, until he’s right in front of me.
Not threatening, never that, but his presence is overwhelming.
He’s taller, broader, radiating dominance like heat waves from a furnace.
My chest tightens, oxygen tangling somewhere in my throat, and my wolf has the audacity to sigh at his nearness like she’s an addict who’s gone too long without a hit.
“I’ve told you before, and I’ll keep saying it until you finally believe me.” His rumble is low and deep enough that it rattles my bones. “But Talis will never be Luna of this pack. I’ll never bear her mark. I will never belong to her.”
I open my mouth, more buried anger ready to fly, only for the words to die as he dips his head and drags the edge of his jaw across my temple.
My whole body goes rigid. Heat races through me like wildfire roaring in my veins.
He scent marked me. My wolf all but rolls over in pleased surrender while my human side fights to stay upright.
It’s a move so devastatingly intimate that I don’t know how to handle it.
“Talis will never be mine,” he growls near my ear.
It’s a battle to keep my jaw up and to gulp down a sharp inhale. I lift my head and meet his eyes. “I’m not yours either. Not really,” I manage, even though it tastes like poison. My wolf huffs, disgusted with me and my blatant lie.
I’m not prepared for his reply.
“Okay,” he says. Just that. And for one gut-punching second, I think he’s giving up.
That he’s done fighting. Ice-cold dread pools in my plummeting stomach.
But then his burning, gunmetal eyes lock with mine.
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself to get through the day, sweet Noa, I understand.
I understand why you think you have to guard yourself against me.
But it won’t stop me. It won’t stop me from proving to you, from showing you, that I’m in this.
I told you I wasn’t walking away from you again, and I meant it.
Now it’s on me to prove I’m a man of my word.
” His big, callused hand cups the side of my face, his fingers threading into the hair near my ear.
“I’m yours, Noa. Always have been, always will be. ”
It's hard, painfully so, to reconcile the man standing before me now with the man who joined me in the clearing and ripped me apart like a predator going in for the kill. He’d been merciless, each slash of his verbal blade precise and fatal.
I know, logically, he thought it would be easier for me if he made me hate him.
That anger would be kinder to carry than the misery of losing him.
But his plan backfired, and what he left me with was worse than either—an emptiness that’s gnawed at me until there is nothing left but ache.
None of his many pretty words have erased what he said when he rejected me, but they do dull the edges just enough.
The cuts he left behind no longer bleed freely, but the scars are still tender, still raw beneath the fragile layer that now covers them.
Lost in these thoughts, my bottom lip finds itself under my teeth. He takes notice instantly, his hand shifting, calloused thumb tugging it free with surprising gentleness.
“Stop hurting yourself.” His murmur is basically a plea, and then, mercifully, he steps back, giving me space to breathe again.
To think. “If you want to keep arguing about this, we can, but it’s late, and you’re still exhausted.
I’m tired too. And you’re not going to win this one, baby.
If you’re living on my land, you’re sleeping under my roof. ”
Under his roof. But my traitorous mind hears ‘in his bed’.
My skin flushes at the thought.
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. Just bends, picks up the first load of bags he brought in from the doorway, and slings them over his shoulders like they’re weightless.
“Yrsa will be here with Seren and the omegas any minute. We beat everyone back. I’ll show you your room first, then the others.
There’s also an apartment over the garage that I think will be perfect for Seren and Ivey.
After, we can decide the safest place for the sedated wolf to go. ”
I grumble nonsense under my breath, too stubborn to admit defeat outright.
My feet drag as I follow him toward the sleek white-oak and iron staircase.
“Seems you’ve thought of everything, Fallamhain,” I grumble louder this time, glaring at the back of his head.
“Have you made any other decisions on my behalf you think I should know about?”
His head turns just enough for me to catch the smirk tugging at his mouth. “I have,” he admits, completely unashamed, “but I don’t think you’re ready to hear those ones yet.”
The end of my shoe nearly catches on a step and heat surges up my neck, my face no doubt redder than a stop sign. Butterflies riot low in my stomach again, and I clamp my mouth shut before they crawl out in the form of something I’m not ready to admit. Not to myself. Not to him.
Deciding silence is my best course of action right now, I quietly follow him the rest of the way up.