13. Calder
Calder
She found me in the woodshed.
I'd been out there since mid-morning, needing to burn off the restless energy that had been building for days.
The closer her heat got, the harder it was to be in the same room with her without doing something stupid.
Without reaching for her. Without pulling her into my arms and burying my face in her neck and breathing her in until I couldn't smell anything else.
So I was splitting wood. The same thing I always did when my head got too loud, when the wanting got too strong, when I needed to exhaust my body so my mind would finally shut up.
I'd stripped off my coat and flannel despite the cold, working in just my thermal, letting the physical effort generate its own heat.
Sweat dampened my hair, my back, the fabric clinging to my shoulders as I worked.
Lift, swing, crack. Lift, swing, crack.
The rhythm helped. The shock of impact traveling up my arms, the satisfying split of the grain, the growing pile of firewood that meant something tangible, something real. Something I could point to and say: I did that. I made that. I'm still capable of building things that matter.
I didn't hear the cabin door open. Didn't hear her footsteps crunching through the snow.
But I felt her the moment she got close.
Felt the change in the air, the way my whole body went tight with awareness.
Like every nerve ending I had was tuned to her frequency, picking up her signal before my conscious mind even registered she was there.
The woodshed door creaked open.
I set down the axe and turned around, and the sight of her knocked the breath right out of my chest.
She was wearing my coat. My old brown canvas work coat, the one I'd had for fifteen years, worn soft and patched in three places.
It swallowed her whole, the shoulders hanging halfway down her arms, the hem reaching past her thighs.
Her hands were lost somewhere in the sleeves. She looked like a kid playing dress-up.
She looked like everything I'd ever wanted.
Something possessive and tender curled through me at the sight. Mine, some primal part of my brain whispered. She's wearing something of mine. She smells like me now. She chose to wrap herself in something that belongs to me.
“I thought I might find you out here,” she said. Her voice was soft. Almost nervous. “Bo said you come here when you need to think.”
“Needed to burn off some energy.” I grabbed a rag from the workbench and wiped the sweat from my face, giving myself something to do with my hands. Something that wasn't reaching for her. “Storm's got us all restless.”
She stepped inside, letting the door swing closed behind her.
The woodshed wasn't big. With both of us in it, there was maybe six feet between us.
I could smell her clearly now, that rain-and-honeysuckle scent cutting through the sharp tang of pine and sawdust. And underneath it, something sweeter.
Something that had been building for days, getting stronger every morning, telling me exactly what was coming.
“Something happened,” she said. “With Shepherd. In the kitchen.”
My hands stilled on the rag. “Yeah?”
“I kissed him.”
The words landed in my chest like a physical blow. Not pain, exactly. More like... relief. Like something I'd been holding tight had finally let go.
“Good,” I said.
She blinked. “Good?”
“You needed to know if it was real. If what you were feeling was just biology or something more.” I set down the rag and turned to face her fully. “Was it? Real?”
“Yes.” She said it without hesitation. “It was real.”
“Good,” I said again. And I meant it. Whatever she had with Shepherd, whatever connection they'd found in that kitchen, I was glad. She deserved to have that. Deserved to have people who cared about her, who wanted her, who would be there for her when her heat came.
But god, I wanted to be one of them.
“I told him I want all three of you there,” she continued. Her eyes were fixed on mine, watching my reaction. “For my heat. I've made a decision.”
“Noa.” Her name came out rougher than I intended. I had to stop, take a breath, try again. “You don't have to explain yourself to me. You don't owe me anything.”
“I know I don't have to.” She moved closer, picking her way around the scattered logs and wood chips.
“But I want to. Because I'm not just here to tell you what I decided.” She stopped a few feet away, close enough that I could see the pulse fluttering in her throat.
“I'm here because I need to know if it's real with you too.”
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure she could hear it. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I need to kiss you.” The words came out in a rush, like she'd been holding them back and finally let go.
“Before my heat. While I can still think clearly.
I need to know that what I feel for you isn't just..
. biology. Isn't just my body responding to yours because we're alpha and omega and that's what we're supposed to do.”
She looked up at me, and the vulnerability in her expression nearly undid me.
This woman who'd fought so hard to never need anyone, who'd built walls so high that most people couldn't even see over them, let alone through them.
She was standing in front of me, asking me to let her in.
Asking me to be brave enough to let her see what I'd been hiding.
“Noa.” I reached out, slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted.
She didn't. My hand found her cheek, cupping her face in my palm.
Her skin was cold from the winter air, but her eyes were warm.
So warm. “I've wanted to kiss you since the moment you grabbed my arm in your sleep and held on like I was the only solid thing in your world.”
Her breath caught. “Calder...”
“I've wanted you every day since then. Every hour. Every time you walked into a room or laughed at something or fell asleep by the fire.” My thumb traced along her cheekbone, marveling at how soft her skin was.
How delicate she felt under my rough hands.
“I've been trying so hard to keep my distance.
Trying to be respectful. Trying not to push you into something you weren't ready for.”
“And if I'm ready now?”
“Then I need you to know something first.” I stepped closer, closing the distance between us until there was barely a breath of space left.
She had to tilt her head back to look at me, and the sight of her like that, looking up at me with those amber eyes, trusting me despite everything.
.. it made my chest ache in ways I didn't have words for.
“If we do this, I'm not going to be able to hold back anymore.
I've been holding back for two weeks and I'm running on empty.
So if you're not sure, if there's any doubt…”
“Calder.” She reached up and pressed her fingers to my lips, stopping the words. “Stop talking.”
So I kissed her.
I'd thought about this moment for two weeks. Imagined it in the quiet hours of the night when I should have been sleeping. Wondered what she'd taste like, feel like, sound like. I'd built up expectations so high I was sure reality couldn't match them.
I was wrong.
The reality was so much better.
Her lips were soft and cold from the winter air, but they warmed under mine almost immediately. She tasted like the tea she'd been drinking, something herbal and slightly sweet, and underneath that something that was purely her. Something wild and fierce and utterly intoxicating.
I kissed her gently at first. Carefully.
Giving her time to adjust, to pull away if she wanted to.
But she didn't pull away. Instead, her hands came up to grip the front of my thermal, fisting the fabric, dragging me closer.
She made a sound against my mouth, a soft, desperate noise that shot straight down my spine and dismantled every last shred of my self-control.
I deepened the kiss, one hand sliding from her cheek into her hair, the other wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against me.
She was so small in my arms. So small and so fierce and so impossibly warm despite the cold.
I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, could feel the way she arched into me, could feel her fingers tightening in my shirt like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.
“I've got you,” I murmured against her lips. “I'm not going anywhere.”
She made another one of those sounds, half-sob and half-laugh, and kissed me harder.
I walked her backward until her shoulders hit the workbench, then lifted her easily, setting her on the rough wood surface so we were closer to the same height. Her legs parted to let me step between them, and her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me down to her.
This. This was what I'd been so afraid of.
This consuming, overwhelming need that drowned out everything else.
The feel of her body pressed against mine, warm and willing.
The taste of her mouth, sweet and demanding.
The way she kissed me back like she was starving for it, like she'd been waiting just as long as I had, like she needed this just as badly.
I'd been afraid it would be too much. That I'd lose myself in it, lose control, do something that scared her or hurt her.
But it wasn't like that at all.
It was like coming home.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, I pressed my forehead to hers and just held her. Let myself feel the weight of her in my arms, the warmth of her breath against my lips, the steady beat of her heart against my chest.
“Well,” she said, her voice rough and slightly dazed. “That was...”
“Yeah.” I couldn't manage anything more eloquent. Not when she was looking at me like that, lips swollen from my kisses, eyes dark with something that made my blood run hot.
She laughed, shaky and surprised. “You're not very articulate right now.”
“Neither are you.”