Chapter 28 #2
The air between us thickens in an instant, charged with the fierce energy of metal meeting metal and throwing sparks.
My hand stays cupped to her cheek, water slipping off my wrist and gliding along the delicate slope of her throat.
She tips her chin up into the hold, her gaze sweeping over my face with an intense focus that heats every inch of me it touches.
My wolf preens under the attention, and so do I.
“Noa…” I manage, though her name is barely a sound, and I can’t be sure she heard me.
It doesn’t matter, though. Not when she’s already on me.
Her fingers curl around my wrists and she pulls.
Fierce. Determined. It’s as if she believes she possesses the strength to haul a man twice my size across the shower.
She doesn’t, not even close, but I let her have the win.
And I’ll do it again and again if it means she doesn’t take her hands off me.
This—her touching me because she wants to, not from anger or fear but genuine want—feels hallowed. The way it should have always been if I hadn’t spent so long fucking everything up.
Her movements are frantic again, a little reckless, and my hands slide to her sides immediately. The tiles are slippery beneath us, and the thought of her falling and hurting herself makes a fist form around my heart. I steady her, fingers firm on her hips as she continues to drag me.
We pass under the waterfall-style showerhead, and the water, now hot, washes over us. It slicks her hair flat, and runs down my shoulders, soaking us again—thawing the chill left from the unexpected icy plunge moments ago.
Noa doesn’t linger, guiding me until the built-in bench comes into sight.
She shifts me into position, the backs of my knees hitting the cold marble.
Warm palms travel slowly up my arms before sliding down my chest, following the path of the water beading on my skin. Nimble fingers glide lower, lower, until they hook into the waistband of my drenched sweats. Intent clear, I catch her wrists in my hold before she can yank them down.
Noa flashes her teeth in frustration, snapping them like she might actually bite me for stopping her, and the desperate whine that follows goes straight to my cock.
“Noa, baby…” The words rasp out of me and catch when little nails start to drag over the sensitive skin just above my waistband. A soft scratch that reads as a demand. A plea. “Just…slow down. I need to know you’re here with me—that you want this. You. Not just your wolf.”
She’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling as if she has been sprinting. Then her eyes start to flicker between human and wolf, molten gold breaking into soulful brown in quick flashes. The sight tells me everything I need to know.
She isn’t gone—isn’t fully lost to the haze of instinct.
She’s here and choosing this.
“I’m with you,” she whispers.
Three simple words that eviscerate my control.
“You asked me what I needed, Ren,” she reminds me, urgency lacing every syllable, and her chin lifts almost stubbornly, as if she’s daring me to argue with her over this.
“Well, I need these off.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer before pushing on.
“You say you’re mine, but you don’t smell like you’re mine, and everything in me is screaming to fix it.
” Her voice cracks on the next breath, shifting into a plea so soft and vulnerable it nearly has me willing to give her anything just so she never sounds this way again. “Please let me fix it.”
I’m done for.
As if there’s a universe where I’d ever deny her. As if there’s a version of me, man or alpha, that is strong enough to withstand her desperate-sounding request to leave her claim on me. Even if only in scent. For now, anyway.
My world begins and ends with Noa now. Everything I am, everything I ever will be, exists to keep her safe and to give her whatever she needs to feel wanted and happy.
And if dropping these sweats for her—giving her access to every inch of me—is what she needs in this moment, then there’s no force strong enough to stop me from giving it to her.
My cock doesn’t need convincing. The second her fingers brushed my waistband a moment ago, I was already halfway there. Now her begging has me fully hard, straining against the sodden fabric. I’m always going to crave her like this. It’s something that feels etched into me. Bone and soul. Endless.
I loosen my grip on her wrists, sliding my hands up to clutch her sides instead.
“All right,” I murmur, chest tight with burning anticipation. “Take what you need, baby. It’s already yours, anyway.”
Her eyes darken.
And she doesn’t hesitate.
She grabs my soaked pants with both hands and yanks them down, ripping them past my hips in one aggressive, determined pull.
The wet fabric clings for a second before giving way, and I kick them off my ankles to help her, sending the heavy material slapping against the tile.
She snatches them off the floor and flings them across the vast shower stall like they’ve personally offended her.
Before I can take a moment to appreciate that I’m once again naked before my mate, Noa plants both palms on my chest and shoves.
“Sit down.” Not a request.
I follow her command, sitting back on the cool damp marble, continuing to allow her to pretend she’s physically strong enough to move me where she wants—though the dominant alpha part of me wants to grab her hips, drag her onto my lap, and bury my face in her throat.
I want to taste her without the ghosts of what I did haunting the space between us.
But I owe her this.
I owe Noa more than I can ever payback in this lifetime. She deserves this moment where she can take whatever she wants from me, and I stay still. I’ll let her lead until she pushes me past the line where my wolf stops tolerating restraint.
Noa steps forward and slips between my knees, her new position bringing her almost eye level with me. The sight alone drags a groan out of my throat.
Then she leans in.
Her mouth finds my right shoulder first, lips pressing into my damp skin, slow and claiming.
She kisses, then licks, then lets her teeth graze me in a way that drags a low rumble out of my chest before I can even think of containing it.
She crosses to my other shoulder, her caresses leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
Every brush of her mouth is deliberate—a pattern that feels anything but random.
A realization slams through me. My mate is marking every part of me she can get her mouth on, making sure the world knows I belong to her and her alone. With every slow press of her mouth, she’s leaving her scent on my skin with a focus that damn near borders on reverent.
I’m not mad about it. Not even close. If anything, this is the version of her I’ve been starving for.
The possessive and unapologetic omega who isn’t afraid to stake her claim on me in whatever way she needs.
She hasn’t even laid a hand on my cock yet, hasn’t touched me beyond shoving me where she wants me, and still my knot throbs at the base, close to swelling just from the feel of her mouth on me.
Noa’s lips trail back to the center of my chest, right below the hollow of my throat, and her pace slows.
Her mouth closes over the spot and sucks until my dick jerks hard against my thigh.
She starts to kiss down my torso, and with each lick or bite that follows, the need to feel her mouth lower, to have her lips part and take my length, digs its claws in deep.
My ache for her is nearing on painful.
And the little minx knows it. She hums in response to my growing need, the soft, pleased sound enough to make my vision go hazy at the edges for a heartbeat.
I grab for her without thinking, hands lifting to her hips, wanting her closer, wanting her weight pressed to mine. As soon as my palms meet the soaked fabric of her stolen sweater, her little teeth nip at my nipple. The small, sharp reprimand stops me cold.
“No.” Her voice is breathless and dripping with want, but her warning still cuts through me. “Hands on the bench, Alpha Fallamhain.”
Anyone using that tone with me would be on their back, neck bared and reminded of their place in seconds.
But Noa? She’s the exception to every instinct ingrained in me.
Her command only sends a slow warmth through my chest. I drop my hands without protest and set my palms flat on the marble beside my thighs.
“Okay, sweet one,” I murmur, voice dropping low, letting her hear just how much this restraint costs me. “You’re in charge. For now. Enjoy it. Just know, once I get my hands on you, I’m not letting you go until you’re screaming my name.”
The effect is immediate.
Her scent deepens, blooming through the steam, warm and sweet and unmistakably omega.
The pulsing crown of my cock starts to leak, heat settling low in my gut.
My mouth waters, and the memory of her taste floods back hard enough that I have to lock my jaw to keep from dragging her down onto my tongue again.
Slick. That’s what I’m smelling. More notably, my mate’s slick.
“Fuck,” I bite, the curse more growl than spoken word. “Do you know how good you smell, omega?”
The title is something she’s still learning to wear, but rolling off my tongue, it carries a meaning far greater than just her designation.
It’s sweeter. Intimate. The way her breath catches, a tiny whine slipping free before she can swallow it back, tells me she feels that shift.
Her mouth falters where it’s been tracing slow, torturous paths down my torso, and the sound yanks at me, demanding that I answer it.