11. Noah
NOAH
I had taken extra care with my appearance tonight, selecting a crisp shirt I hoped would make the right impression.
I’d set this whole thing up under the guise of needing to talk about Roland—which we would do—but I also wanted to spend time with Zoey.
My wolf stirred impatiently within me, his desire to be near her intensifying with each passing moment.
“Keep it together,” I said to him, checking my reflection in the window one last time. Patience was key. Zoey’s past was a minefield, and if I wanted to be part of her future, I couldn’t rush things. Tonight was an opportunity to show her the man I was outside of the gym.
As I paced the sidewalk and watched the parking lot, I felt a growing sense of uncertainty. What if she’d changed her mind? What if she didn’t feel safe enough to come?
But then, I felt that unmistakable pull in my chest, and my wolf perked up, sensing her proximity before I even saw her pull into the parking lot.
My breath hitched. As Zoey got out of her car, it was like the first glimpse of dawn after a long, dark night. She wore a dark green dress that complemented her fair complexion and ebony hair.
I wasn’t one to judge women on their bodies—although, having assessed opponents in the ring, it gave me an instinct for stature and height.
Now that I was looking closely at Zoey, she appeared underweight, and that pissed me and my wolf off.
I had no doubt it wasn’t her own doing, but something her bastard ex had demanded of her.
I had to tamp down the anger, but I’d fix that. Make her feel comfortable in her own skin.
If she’d let me.
“Hey,” I said as she approached, noting the shyness in her steps. I wanted to put her at ease and prove that she had no reason to be scared in my presence.
The air between us felt charged, a silent energy that hummed and buzzed like an impending storm.
I fought to keep my composure as my wolf snarled, eager for the closeness we both craved.
I inhaled subtly, catching a whiff of something sweet—a scent that was unmistakably hers.
It was subtle, the kind of fragrance you had to be close to notice.
My wolf stirred restlessly, urging me to close the distance, to bury my nose in the crook of her neck and inhale her scent. But I held back.
Patience.
“Hi,” she said, tucking a strand of her ebony dark hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t sure what to wear. Heather helped me pick out a dress.”
“Heather chose well,” I said, offering her a smile that I hoped was both warm and comforting. “You look stunning, Zoey.”
A faint blush bloomed across her cheeks, the soft pink contrasting with her pale skin. She glanced down, then looked back up at me through her long lashes. The gesture was so endearing, it almost made me step forward. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t rush this. She’d been through too much.
“Thanks.” She held my eyes for a heartbeat longer before looking away. It was a small victory, but one I cherished.
I opened the door to the restaurant, gesturing for Zoey to enter ahead of me.
She hesitated before stepping inside, her gaze darting around cautiously.
I’d called ahead to make sure we got a table tucked away in the corner where the noise would be muffled and there’d be minimal bustle.
Being the “heir to the throne,” as it may be, had its perks.
I wanted Zoey to relax and feel like she wasn’t being watched.
“Is this spot okay?” I asked as the hostess showed us to our secluded table.
She nodded, sending the same strand of hair tumbling across her face. “It’s perfect, thank you.”
The tension from outside seemed to have followed us in, but I was determined to ease it for her sake. I pulled out her chair, and once she was seated, I sat across from her. The female server I had requested, a friendly woman with a kind smile, approached and handed us our menus.
“Take your time,” she said before walking away, then left us to decide.
Zoey fidgeted with the silverware, arranging and rearranging them beside her plate.
“Hey,” I said gently, leaning forward a bit, “you don’t have to be on edge. I’m not going to bite or anything.”
She looked up sharply. For a second, I thought I’d said the wrong thing. But then she tilted her head, a playful glint flashing in her eyes. “Isn’t that a werewolf thing?”
My response was immediate—a deep, resonating laugh shook my chest, surprising even myself. “Werewolves?” I scoffed. “Nah, they’re a myth. There’s a difference between them and shifters.”
She knew that. Her sister and stepdad were shifters, too, after all. But the fact that she was teasing me was a damn good sign.
“Right, the difference,” Zoey said, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smirk. “Which one’s the nicer companion, right?”
I caught the subtle change in her expression, and it made me laugh again. It wasn’t often I found myself enjoying a woman’s company like this, but with her, it was different. It felt natural, comfortable, even with the undercurrent of nerves.
“Absolutely,” I said, still grinning. “And for the record, I’m a pretty nice guy... most of the time.”
She gave me a genuine smile, and for a moment, all the caution in her body melted away. It was a brief glimpse into the person she might be without the ghosts of her past hovering over her. And I couldn’t help but think that I really wanted to see that smile again.
The waitress had just finished jotting down our orders when I leaned back in my chair to study Zoey. There was an ease to her now that hadn’t been there when she first walked in. Her earlier jest about werewolves told me she was a funny woman, and I was eager to discover more of her humorous side.
“Ah, so you do have a sense of humor,” I said with a playful, teasing tone. “I was beginning to doubt that.”
Zoey’s lips quirked up in a half-smile, her eyes once again meeting mine before darting away. She folded her hands on the table, the faintest hint of color rising to her cheeks. “Well, you know, gotta keep things interesting.”
I chuckled at that. “Indeed.” Aware that keeping the focus on her would make her feel uneasy, I shifted the conversation away from her. “Speaking of interesting, I’m curious about Roland. Can you tell me more about him? What breed of wolf is he?”
She hesitated, then sighed softly. “Honestly, beyond being a British Columbian wolf, I’m not entirely sure. I know he’s strong-willed, and… he’s got this presence.”
“Will he inherit a pack?” I asked gently, knowing it was a sensitive topic.
“George’s pack, if you could call it that,” Zoey started, with a hint of derision, “are more like a bunch of goons. They hang on his every word, follow him around like eager puppies. Seeing the Boldercrest pack firsthand, I’ve realized the true meaning of pack.
George’s is about money and power. Not loyalty or respect. Not like here.”
“Sounds like he valued the wrong things in a pack,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.
“Exactly. When we started dating, he never missed an opportunity to boast about being wealthy and that he was a British Columbian wolf, that his was the most prestigious breed. When I got pregnant and we found out it was a boy, he wasn’t excited about having a son but that we’d have an addition to the gene pool because of his genetics.
” She sighed. “Honestly, I don’t understand why I ever fell for him.
He’s nothing to write home about,” she added, rolling her eyes so hard, I thought they might get stuck.
I couldn’t suppress the chuckle. It was so full of life and disdain for her ex. I loved that she was showing such spirit.
“British Columbian wolves are known for their strength,” I said. “Could explain why Roland is so agile and quick.”
“Is that right?” Zoey seemed genuinely curious now. “And what about your wolf?”
At the mention of my wolf, an involuntary rumble vibrated through my chest. It was low, a sound of pride and acknowledgment.
Zoey’s brows flew up, surprise etched across her features. “Did... did your wolf just?—”
“Sorry about that,” I said, a sheepish grin spreading across my face. “He tends to get a bit full of himself when he’s the center of attention.”
To my relief, Zoey let out a giggle. The sound did wonders for the tight knot of nerves in my stomach. Hearing her laugh felt better than winning a championship match.
“Your wolf sounds confident,” she teased.
“Confident? That’s one way to put it,” I said, still grinning. Her laughter was a melody I could listen to all night long.
Leaning back in my chair, I watched Zoey’s reactions closely, admiring the way her entire face lit up with curiosity. “I’m a Canadian Timber wolf,” I told her, with more than a hint of pride. “We’re like the giants of the wolf world.”
If I wanted to brag—and I really didn’t—I could have told her that people said my wolf was the biggest anyone had seen in centuries. Bigger even than Nate’s, which had led to much sibling rivalry, most of it good-natured.
“And between you and me”—I leaned in as if sharing a secret—“the Canadian Timber wolf is the holy grail of wolf DNA that everyone desires. It’s top-tier.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows rose in mock surprise, and she covered her mouth to stifle another giggle. “Sounds like someone’s a bit cocky.”
“Ah, you have no idea.” My wolf rumbled, pleased with the attention.
From there, it was as if a switch had been flipped.
Zoey relaxed, and the conversation flowed effortlessly.
We chatted about everything and nothing, sharing smiles and fleeting glances.
When she told me that Sam and Roland were fixing up a remote-controlled car and how much Roland loved tinkering, I remembered the reason I’d used to ask her out for dinner.
“He’ll be coming of shifting age soon,” I began, watching her closely. “And without an alpha around?—”
“Is that important?” she cut in. “I didn’t realize... I mean, I knew he’d need other wolves around. That’s why coming here seemed right.”