Prologue - Hannah #2
Conan smirks, the indent in his cheek turning prominent. “And yet, here I am, to see you.”
He jabs a finger at my shoulder, and the slightest touch has me reeling all over again. I take a deep breath for composure, schooling my face so I give nothing away. The only trouble is that my body betrays me, so I do what I do best.
Flight.
Spinning on my heel, I head inside the cabin, about to shut the door in his face when he presses a palm to the wood as if he’d been expecting dismissal.
“What do you want, Conan?” I ask, infuriated by his obvious determination to hang around. I pull off my satchel and hang it behind the chair, before advancing to the kettle to boil water for a much-needed mug of herbal tea, just the way Dorothy taught me.
“I came to see you.”
“So, if it wasn’t for your friends trying to frame me for a crime I didn’t commit, you would have waited here until I returned?” I cross my arms and turn to him while the kettle continues to wheeze behind me. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Why wouldn’t you believe me?” he asks with a frown, his eyes saddening as if he’d been hurt. “I needed to see you. I needed to speak with you.”
My frown deepens, and for a flicker of a moment, I don’t say anything and just stare into his eyes. Eyes that I had long since come to lose myself in.
Eyes of a beloved who is forbidden to me.
“Well, you shouldn’t be here. And you shouldn’t have come to save me.”
“I didn’t come to save you. And you sure as hell looked like you could use the help, anyway,” he scoffs. “Besides, I saw them messing around at Dorothy’s cabin earlier. I knew they were up to no good. It looks like I was in the right place at the right time.”
“I don’t need you to save me, Conan. I never did,” I sneer, then turn to the kettle as it whistles.
“Will you not offer me tea?”
“You should have gone to Dorothy’s if you wanted tea. You need to return her gem, anyway.”
“You’re not a very good host,” he snorts as I pass him a mug.
“Happy?”
When he nods, I say, “Now that you have your tea, you can drink it and leave.”
Conan sighs, then takes a small sip of the herbal brew. “I really did come here to talk to you, Hannah.”
Clutching my mug to my chest, I avidly avoid making eye contact with him. “No. You were here to be a hero. But I don’t need any saving.”
Conan frowns. “Why are you so adamant about refusing any help?”
“I don’t need your help, Conan! I never did!” I lie.
It’s a lie, because I watched him defend me tonight, and I actually enjoyed feeling safe. I liked feeling protected, but I know that it’s wrong.
This secret friendship between us will see its end when he becomes the alpha.
I have to protect myself against my own feelings.
Conan clenches his jaw, his eyes filled with sadness. “You don’t mean that, Hannah. You’re my best friend.”
“I am nothing but the useless omega in this pack!” I snap back indignantly, spinning around and turning my back to him so he doesn’t see the pain in my eyes. “And I will never be more than that. It’s something I’ve learned to live with. And nothing will change.”
“You’re wrong,” Conan says quietly behind me. “That’s why I came here to speak to you tonight, Hannah. I am tired of pretending that you aren’t the most important person in my life.”
I gasp, frozen in place as I let his words sink in. I have the sudden urge to pinch myself.
Am I dreaming?
Turning around slowly, my brows remain furrowed. “What are you saying, Conan?” I whisper tentatively as I meet his dark eyes.
He takes one step forward, towering over me and staring deeply into my eyes. “There is a month left before I become the alpha. And when that happens, I want you by my side”—he pauses, taking another step closer—”as my luna.”
I gasp again, and this time, I can’t find the next breath quickly enough. “Wh-what?” I ask, blinking in shock.
“You heard me, Hannah Young. I want you as my luna. I am done pretending that I don’t have feelings for you. The truth is, I do.”
When Conan plants his hands on my shoulders, a current of sharp, electric awareness pulses through me. “You—you don’t mean that. I am…I’m a shiftless omega, an orphan. Your grandfather will never—”
“He will have no say in the matter once I am alpha.” Conan slides one hand to my cheek. “I will be free to choose who I want as my mate, and I choose you.”
I want to pinch myself again, because this doesn’t sound real. What is real are the sensations running rampant through my body, every inch ignited by his touch and proximity. His breath. His scent. The headiness in his eyes.
“You’re wrong.”
“No,” he says firmly. “You are wrong for thinking so little of yourself. But I know you. The real you. And that’s all that matters to me.”
I’m not sure who moves first, but our lips collide in a passionate kiss that leads to my bedroom. Pieces of clothing go flying through the air until we’re both naked on the bed.
Conan cups both my cheeks, staring deeply into my eyes when he says, “I promise you, Hannah. Once I am alpha, I will take care of you. No one will ever hurt you again. Not as long as you’re by my side.”
As I open up like a flower in bloom because I believe every word Conan says, he kisses me again.
If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up from it. I’ll never want to wake from the dreaminess that is Conan Becker, soon to be alpha of the Iron Breath Pack, and soon to be my mate.