Chapter 8 #2
Patty stumbles backward, bumps into someone behind her, and suddenly the narrow entryway is packed with people.
The hallway stretches back toward what looks like a dining room, hardwood floors gleaming, walls painted cream and decorated with family photos in expensive frames.
There are maybe fifteen people crowded in here now, all turning to stare at us.
Perfect entrance.
I let go of Hannah’s hand, slide my palm across her lower back, drawing her against my side. “Hey, everyone. I’m Noel, Hannah’s main squeeze.” I let my voice carry, making sure everyone hears. “She’s my scent match.”
“Oh my God!” Lily is practically screaming in my ear. “You’d better be memorizing their faces! I can tell from the silence that they’re all shocked! Tell me they’re shocked!”
I lift my hand, the one with the microphone glued to one of my wooden bracelets, and whisper toward it, “You’d love to see this.”
“I knew it! I’m missing everything!”
Hannah’s father is already pushing through the crowd, completely unbothered by the shock. “All right, everyone, let’s get started. I brought a pasta bake.” He holds up a casserole dish and heads toward the dining room.
Hannah tugs me forward, and immediately we’re swarmed. People pressing closer, reaching out to touch my arms, my shoulders, like I’m some kind of exhibit.
“He’s real,” someone murmurs.
“Look at those tattoos!”
“Is his hair naturally that color?”
An older woman approaches, and Hannah immediately steps forward. “Great-Aunt Martha! So good to see you!”
So this is the infamous Martha. She’s wearing a red dress that screams “I’m in charge here” with a pearl necklace. Her gray hair is styled in perfect waves.
“Hannah, darling!” She pulls Hannah into a hug that looks more possessive than affectionate, then turns her attention to me. “And who is this?”
“Let me introduce you to Noel,” Hannah says. “My boyfriend.”
Martha pulls me into the same aggressive hug-and-kiss routine, then reaches out to squeeze my bicep. Hard. “Oh, Hannah, you finally snagged yourself a good one!” Her voice carries across the room. “How on earth did you manage this? Your cousins could use some tips.”
“Actually, I chased her.” I speak before Hannah can respond, keeping my tone easy but firm. “Hannah is the real catch here. And it’s not just me. My two friends are claiming her too.”
Silence. Complete, total silence.
Hannah is glaring at me.
“Oh, this is beautiful,” Lily whispers in my ear. “I can feel their shock from here.”
“We’re a pack,” I clarify, which somehow makes their stares worse.
Mouths are literally hanging open. Then everyone starts talking at once, and we’re being herded toward an oversized dining table.
Dark wood polished to a shine, set with china. Crystal glasses at every place setting. Cloth napkins folded into elaborate shapes. The walls are painted a deep burgundy, and there’s a chandelier overhead that’s dripping with crystals.
Hannah and I end up squeezed together in the middle of one side of the table, her father directly across from us, and suddenly everyone is fighting for the seats nearby. Women, mostly.
Hannah leans close, voice low. “You’re doing amazing, but let’s keep things simple. We’re not staying long.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
Her father is already deep in conversation with an older man, reminiscing about something, while younger family members start bringing food to the table.
There’s a huge turkey, golden and perfect.
Ham glazed with something that smells incredible.
Mashed potatoes. Green bean casserole. Cranberry sauce.
Rolls. Sweet potato casserole with marshmallows.
Three different types of pie visible on a side table.
And yes, what has to be Martha’s infamous meatloaf based on the conversation in the car—gray and gelatinous and somehow still steaming despite looking like it died weeks ago.
At least twenty people squeeze around the table, and I’m hyperaware of how close Hannah is, our arms bumping every time one of us moves.
I fucking love it. Love being this close to her, feeling the heat of her body, catching hints of her scent even with all the food smells competing for attention.
Martha stands at the head of the table, tapping her wineglass with a fork until everyone quiets down.
“Welcome, everyone! I’m so thrilled we could all gather for another Christmas together. It’s wonderful to see Hannah and her father join us as well.” Her smile tightens slightly. “Though we’re disappointed Lily couldn’t make it this year.”
“She’s got better places to be,” Lily mutters in my ear, and I fight to keep my expression neutral.
“Let’s take a moment to remember those who can’t be with us.” Martha’s voice softens. “Especially Hannah and Lily’s mother, Olivia, who loved these gatherings so much.”
Hannah has gone tense beside me, and I slide my hand under the table, rest it on her thigh. She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans slightly into the touch.
“Now!” Martha’s voice brightens artificially. “Let’s eat and celebrate this blessed Christmas season!”
“Oh, good, the torture begins,” Lily says. “Try not to eat the meatloaf. Seriously. Three years ago, someone needed their stomach pumped.”
People start serving themselves, passing dishes in both directions, and I notice how everyone keeps glancing our way. Some of the women are staring at me with expressions I recognize—interest, speculation, the kind of look that says they’re wondering what Hannah has that they don’t.
Then a woman in her forties leans forward from three seats down, blonde hair in perfect waves, makeup flawless. “So, you two must tell us how you met! I’m dying to know.”
“That’s Sasha,” Lily says immediately. “Total bitch. She once—”
But I’m already answering. “We met through Hannah’s sister, Lily. I helped with an event she was planning, and we hit it off.”
“What kind of event?” Sasha presses, leaning forward even more. She’s wearing a low-cut blouse, and the move is deliberate.
Hannah jumps in smoothly. “A petting zoo. Holiday-themed. Noel brought actual reindeer, which was incredible and saved the entire event.”
“You own reindeer?” asks a woman in her late twenties who is practically bouncing in her seat. “That’s so unique! Where does someone even find a man like you?” She laughs, but there’s an edge to it. “I mean, if Hannah could catch you, there must be hope for the rest of us single Omegas, right?”
“That’s Rachel,” Lily supplies. “Desperate doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
Hannah stiffens beside me, and I can feel her bristling at the implication.
“Hannah didn’t catch me,” I say, keeping my tone light but letting some steel show through. “I pursued her. Relentlessly. She’s brilliant, creative, capable of running circles around most people I know. I’m the lucky one, because she gave me a chance.”
Rachel deflates visibly.
“And what do you do for work, Noel? You look very… physical,” Sasha asks, the whole table watching.
“I’m a bounty hunter.”
That gets attention. Multiple people lean forward, suddenly interested.
“That sounds deadly!” Martha says from the head of the table.
“It can be.” I take a bite of turkey, which is actually good. “But it’s satisfying work. Bringing people to justice who thought they could escape consequences.”
“Have you ever been shot?” a man in his fifties asks, genuinely curious.
“Twice. Vest caught both rounds.”
“Terrifying,” Hannah murmurs, and her hand finds my thigh under the table.
“What’s the scariest situation you’ve been in?” Sasha again, persistent.
I think for a moment. “Probably the time we tracked someone to an abandoned warehouse. Intel said he was alone. He wasn’t. Had three friends with him, all armed. Turned into a standoff that lasted four hours before backup arrived.”
“How did you stay calm?” another woman asks.
“Training. And trusting my partners. Kane and Chris had my back the entire time.”
“Those Hannah’s other lovers?” an older woman asks. “The ones you mentioned earlier?”
Hannah clears her throat.
“Yes, ma’am. We’ve been working together for years. They’re family.”
Hannah squeezes my hand under the table, and I squeeze back.
“So how long have you and Hannah been together?” Sasha isn’t giving up, eyes sharp enough to cut glass.
I glance at Hannah, letting her take the lead. “A few months,” she says smoothly. “But it feels longer. Like we’ve known each other forever.”
“That’s the scent-match bond,” I add. “When you meet your mate, time doesn’t really matter. You just know.”
“How romantic,” Martha says in the exact tone someone would use to describe mold.
Before I can respond, Lily’s voice fills my ear. “Translation: she thinks you’re lying. She always thinks people are lying. It’s her spiritual gift.”
I hide a smirk with my glass.
“Where did you grow up, Noel?” Rachel tries again.
“Here in the mountains.”
“What do you do for fun?” another aunt asks.
Before I can think, Lily chirps in my ear, “Say hiking. And chopping wood shirtless. They’ll eat that up.”
I blink. “I… hike. And work outdoors a lot.”
Lily adds, “Trust me, they think chopping wood is a form of character development.”
“What did Hannah tell you about our family before tonight?” Martha asks, folding her hands like she’s about to conduct an interrogation.
Lily is already cackling in my ear. “Oh, I’ve got this. Say: she told me you’re all very… enthusiastic hosts. And very opinionated. Especially about other people’s lives.”
I repeat it carefully. “She told me you’re enthusiastic hosts. And… very opinionated.”
Hannah’s eyes go wide. Her father coughs into his hand to hide a laugh.
“Opinionated,” Rachel huffs. “We’re involved.”
“Same thing,” Lily mutters.
“And what kind of pack are you part of, Noel?” someone else asks. “What values do you have?”
Lily jumps in instantly. “Say: loyalty, honesty, and minding our own damn business. But soften that last part. Maybe.”