Chapter 27 Norah
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Norah
The cold barely registers.
I know it should. I know snow against skin should bite and burn, but everything feels distant and sharp at the same time, like my body is no longer reporting the right information to my brain.
The ground disappears beneath me, and suddenly I’m moving, lifted, strong arms under my knees and back.
Jude.
His scent wraps around me first, warm vanilla and something spicier underneath it. Safety. Familiarity. I cling to him as he carries me toward the house.
“Careful,” Ryker says, close and urgent. “She’s burning up.”
Burning is the right word.
The world swims as the door opens and closes again, heat blasting my face, my skin reacting all at once like it has been starved for it.
They lower me onto the sofa, cushions dipping under my weight. I try to sit up and fail, muscles weak and uncooperative.
Ryker is in front of me.
My eyes lock on his chest without my permission.
He’s fresh from the shower, skin damp, hair still dripping down his neck. His towel hangs low on his hips, his chest bare and broad and right there.
The sight of him pulls something deep and aching through me, need clawing upward so fast it steals my breath.
I whimper.
Jude swears softly. “Okay. Okay. What do we do?”
“Should I call Wren?” Ryker asks, already reaching for his phone.
“No,” I force out, the word slurring. “No. She’s… she’s pregnant.”
Ryker freezes. “Right. Right, sorry.”
“Dr. Simon,” Jude says. “Or the hospital. Someone will know what to do.”
Ryker nods. “I’ll call.”
But he doesn’t move fast enough.
My hand lifts on its own and lands against his chest. His skin is hot and smooth beneath my palm, my fingers dragging slowly like I’m learning the shape of him by touch alone. He sucks in a sharp breath.
“Goddamn,” he mutters.
He smells like pine.
The scent crashes over me, and suddenly I’m somewhere else, memory bleeding into the present.
Fernbridge. Cabins tucked into the trees. Wood smoke and damp earth and pine needles crushed under bare feet.
My first heat, terrified and desperate and young.
Dorian fucking me into the mattress. The feel of his fingers inside me.
My core twists up with need.
Alpha. Only an Alpha can help me.
“Pine,” I mumble. “You smell like Fernbridge.”
Jude’s voice comes from somewhere above me. “Norah, sweetheart, stay with me.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure what he means. My hand is still on Ryker’s chest, and I can’t make myself pull it away.
His skin jumps under my touch like it’s affecting him too, and the knowledge sends another wave through me.
“I don’t mean to,” I say, words tumbling out. “I can’t stop it.”
“I know,” Ryker says hoarsely. “I know.”
I push myself upright and then forward, body moving before thought. I crawl into his lap, knees pressing into the couch on either side of his thighs.
His hands come up automatically, gripping my hips, fingers digging in like he’s grounding himself as much as me.
Jude is saying something. Asking questions.
“Have you been taking your suppressants? Norah, look at me.”
I try.
I really do.
But Ryker’s neck is right there. The curve of it. The heat of his skin.
I lean in and press my mouth against it, tasting salt and soap and him. Everything else goes hazy, edges blurring until there’s only sensation and need.
“Norah,” Jude says sharply. “Hey. Focus on me.”
Ryker lets out a low sound, his hands flexing against my sides. “Fuck.”
I cling to him, breathing him in, my world narrowing to pine and warmth and the unbearable pull under my skin.
I know they’re talking. I know they’re trying to help.
I just can’t make my body listen anymore.
The room feels too bright and too close all at once.
Jude’s on the phone, pacing, his voice sharp with panic and anger. I’m half-draped across Ryker’s lap, my skin buzzing like it has been lit from the inside.
I can hear Jude saying there’s no Sensurex available, not locally, not fast enough, and the words slide through me without fully landing.
“Her temperature?” the voice on the other end asks.
Jude presses his fingers to the side of my neck, right beneath my jaw. His touch is firm, searching, and it sends a shudder straight through me.
“She’s fucking hot,” he snaps into the phone. “Like burning.”
I whine softly before I can stop myself.
Everything feels wrong and right at the same time. My sweater is suddenly unbearable, my skin too tight, my blood too thick.
The scent in the room is overwhelming, mine and theirs mixing until I cannot tell where one ends and the other begins.
Ryker growls under his breath. “I can’t think. Her scent is all over me.”
His voice vibrates through me, low and strained, and it makes my hips tilt without permission. I curl my fingers into his chest again, needing contact, needing something to press against.
Jude drags a hand through his hair. “We need to properly check her temperature. And they’re recommending herbs. Miss Thea has them.”
“I’ll go,” Ryker says immediately.
“No,” Jude snaps. “You’re not dressed. I’ll go.”
I shake my head weakly. “Don’t,” I murmur. “I need… I need—”
The ache between my thighs pulses, insistent and sharp. Saying it out loud feels impossible, humiliating, but my body doesn’t care about dignity right now.
Jude’s gaze drops to my mouth, then lower, and something in his expression fractures. He leans in and kisses me before I can process it, just once, brief and desperate.
The contact sends a jolt through me so intense I gasp.
His forehead rests against mine for a second. “I’ll be back,” he says roughly. “Ryker, get her to bed.”
I try to protest. “I’ll be fine,” I say, but even I can hear how thin it sounds.
They help me stand, my legs shaky and uncooperative, and Ryker lifts me easily, carrying me down the hallway. His towel brushes my thigh, and the knowledge of how little it hides makes my breath hitch.
The bed feels too soft when he lays me down. The blankets are warm, trapping heat, and I squirm restlessly.
“What do you need?” he asks, voice tight as he pulls off my boots.
“I’m warm,” I say, pushing at my sweater. “Too warm.”
He helps me pull it off.
I smile when his eyes darken at the sight of my pink bra. The look on his face makes my pulse race.
“Come here,” I whisper. “Lie with me. I won’t touch you.”
He lets out a humorless laugh and runs a hand over his face, pacing the room instead. “You’re a liar.”
I nod toward his towel, barely hanging on, erection obvious. “You’re not exactly convincing either.”