: Chapter 15

the drive to Noah’s cousin’s place borders on torture. With every mile the fever in my skin seems to worsen, a burn building deep down inside that threatens to consume me. There are moments during the two-hour trip where I notice Noah’s fingers gripping the steering wheel too tightly, others where his hand reaches out to touch me almost unconsciously, only for him to jerk it away at the last second. It’s like he’s afraid if he touches me, he won’t stop. There is a part of me that is delighted by the idea of this, but there is another that isn’t so sure how to feel about it.

It’s true that it was idea for Noah to come with me, to help me through this strange heat that neither of us saw coming—but in the brief moments of clarity (however few), I can’t help but be wary of it all. Because the way I’ve been feeling since Noah found me back at the hospital, the way every part of me seems to him . . . It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before.

It feels too heavy, too much like all the things I’ve spent my adult life avoiding, and yet in the face of the all-consuming heat that is building in my head and my skin and deep, deep down in my belly—I can’t seem to fight it. I can’t seem to even to, and shouldn’t that have me second-guessing this entire thing?

The snowfall is thicker the closer we get to Pleasant Hill, coming down in large flakes against the window to add to the lush blanket of powder white that coats the ground and the trees outside the car. Noah says very little during the entire trip, and outside of soft panting and low groans, I’m not exactly the picture of conversation either. The need to shift is more prominent now, that tightness in my skin worsening to the point that it feels like it might tear at any given second. It’s nothing I haven’t experienced before; a shifter in heat means being more of their animal self, after all, but I can’t remember it ever feeling so dire before. Everything about this time feels different and almost completely new.

It has me thinking about those consequences Noah was so worried about. When I’m able to form rational thought, that is. Half the time it feels like I’m living in a foggy state of delirium that makes it hard to remember where I am.

“It’s just past these trees,” Noah says at some point. “Are you okay?”

I think I nod. “Still hurts.”

I feel his hand then, light as a feather as it brushes my temple. It’s amazing how this small touch can make me feel so much better. “You’re still burning up,” I hear him murmur. “I should have taken care of you before we left.”

.

It makes me shiver thinking about it, because I know that means touching me, filling me, giving my body all the things it’s begging for right now.

I blink with heavy lids when I get a peek of a dark structure standing stark against the white snow as we emerge through a coppice of thick, snow-covered pines, lifting my head with difficulty to peer at the lodge that is only slightly larger than a cabin and in no better shape. The wood is worn, the railing broken in a few places, and a few shingles look precarious on the roof, as if they might fall off at any moment.

“Hunter really needs to do some upkeep,” Noah grumbles. He cuts his eyes at me. “Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve been here.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine.”

The front door of the lodge opens when we pull up out front to reveal a large man who rivals Noah’s height but is somehow impossibly broader—his dark hair a similar color but wild and curly as it juts out of his dark gray beanie. His features resemble Noah’s in a lot of ways; his mouth is just as full even hidden behind his dark scruff, and he wears the same expression Noah is so fond of, one that seems mildly irritated.

“Is that your cousin?”

Noah is tense when my eyes land on him, his mouth pulled down in a frown and his eyes hard. His throat bobs with a swallow as he turns his head to look at me, his eyes dark and wary. “Stay here,” he says, less of a request and more of a command. “Don’t get out of the car.”

“Okay?”

He looks back at his cousin, who gives us a brief wave from the porch, huffing out a breath. “Hunter is also an alpha.” His voice sounds tighter. “I don’t want—” He shakes his head. “I don’t want him scenting you like this.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t do any—”

“You have no idea what you smell like right now, Mackenzie,”

Noah growls. “It’s taken every ounce of willpower I have this entire trip not to pull over this car and knot you in the backseat.”

A quiet gasp escapes me, and hearing it makes Noah blink, his expression changing to one of mild surprise.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a rush. “I . . .” He turns back to the front, closing his eyes as his fingers squeeze the steering wheel roughly. “Please stay here.”

There’s a pulsing between my legs, and I feel a little trickle of slick seep out into my underwear. Noah’s nostrils flare, and it does something strange to me, knowing he . That he can smell how much I want him right now.

“I’ll stay,” I tell him softly.

He nods rigidly. “Thank you.”

I watch him as he climbs out of the car, pulling his coat tight as he stomps across the snow to meet his cousin on the porch. Noah still looks slightly flustered as they talk, and there is a moment when Hunter turns his head to look at me through the windshield, and the hard set of his eyes makes me shiver.

Noah looks anything but happy with Hunter’s curiosity, everything about his posture screaming that he’s uncomfortable with someone else being so close to me right now. Especially someone like Hunter.

And why does that feel so satisfying? It makes me feel warm in a way that has nothing to do with my heat, the warmth resonating solely in my chest like a heated stone that’s taken up residence there. It’s true that Noah’s behavior during all this has been fairly possessive and unlike him, but I’ve been telling myself it’s just a byproduct of his hormones reacting to mine. It’s nothing more than his alpha instincts kicking in and even going into overdrive since they’ve never really been used before. Because it can’t be anything more than that . . . can it?

I’m still pondering this as Hunter hands Noah a set of keys before slapping him on the shoulder, watching as Hunter’s mouth tilts in a lopsided grin before he sets off down the stairs toward an old, dark green Bronco parked on the side of the lodge. Noah watches him drive off, that same tense expression on his face, with that same hard line of his mouth. Even as agitated as he looks, watching him makes me feel more flushed, if that’s even possible, my breath turning shallow as that tightness in my skin worsens. My entire body is screaming at me to go to him, seeming to know that Noah can give us exactly what we want. In this moment, knowing that we’re alone, nothing seems as important as the broad, agitated-looking doctor coming down the lodge steps after me.

I don’t move as he closes the distance between the lodge and the passenger door, waiting until he opens the door and leans down to look at me to release the breath I’m holding. “You can come now.”

I shiver all over. It’s not what he means, the way my brain is interpreting it, but it doesn’t stop me from needing to press my legs together. Noah reaches out with his hand in silent waiting, and it feels cool on my fevered skin when I place mine inside it. His thumb strokes my palm in a slow back and forth, and then he’s pulling me from the car and helping me stand on unsteady legs as I fall against him. Even in the cool air it feels warm between us, and Noah’s hand at my lower back is downright hot through my clothes.

“Let’s get you inside,” he hums. “It’s just you and me now.”

The giddiness this makes me feel has to be dangerous, given what we are, but knowing that does nothing to stop me from feeling it. Not a damn thing.

i’m watching him set up some sort of emergency heat station on the wooden dresser in the bedroom he helped me to; it seems like Noah thought about this a lot more than I did, if the water bottles, easily accessible snacks, and towels are any indication. I can see how he’s stressing over it—like he might be afraid that he’s missed something—his hand over his mouth and his brow furrowed as he most likely mentally checks off anything else we might need. I could almost laugh; only could be so calculating during a time like this.

My stomach clenches as I consider how much he’s thought about me, about taking of me, but that confusion is something I can’t handle right now.

“Is there really no one else here?”

Noah turns to regard me. “Hunter went down to stay with his aunt, Jeannie. Since business isn’t what it used to be . . .” His eyes are heated now. “It’s just us.”

“Wow,” I answer with a choked laugh. “A whole ski lodge for a sexcation. How romantic.”

Noah doesn’t laugh. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay at the moment,” I tell him honestly. “The headache isn’t as bad, and I don’t feel like my skin is catching on fire, mostly.”

“Your scent is still”—he rolls his lips together—“very thick.”

I can’t help it; in this moment of clarity I find myself curious. “Is it really hard to stand?”

“It isn’t . . . easy,” Noah says. “Actually, it’s fucking hard.”

And why does that make me even more giddy? Do I the fact that Noah is admitting to going a little insane over me? It definitely feels more like the “complicated” way of things. Then again, it feels like everything about Noah and me has been complicated lately. The more I assess it, the more it sort of scares the shit out of me. I can’t let myself read too much into this, knowing that he’ll be gone within a month or more. It’s exactly the sort of scenario I wanted to avoid when I agreed to this. The same scenario that felt when I agreed to this. I don’t get giddy over men I’ve known for so little time. Hell, I don’t get giddy over men, period, really.

So why does the way Noah looks at me make me feel so warm? Is it my heat? Or something else?

“It’s hard being around you too,” I half whisper. “You smell really good.”

His hands clench at his sides. “Do I.”

“You’ve always smelled good,” I answer truthfully, the words falling out of my mouth almost beyond my control. “It’s calming. Like being in the snow, but . . . it’s warm too.”

“Warm,” he echoes, eyes caressing my face.

I nod. “Or at least . . . it makes me feel warm.”

“Really,” he says softly. There’s another clench of his fists, and then a step, and I feel the breath in my lungs get hung up like it’s forgotten how to work itself out of my body. “Do you know what your scent does to me?”

He takes another step, and the distance between us is so short now, with the way I’m teetering on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to try and lessen it even further. “No.”

“It makes me feel like I have no control,” he breathes, feet bumping against mine as he curls his body to brace his hands on either side of my waist. “And I’m very good at keeping my control.”

I swallow thickly. “What else?”

“What else . . .” He leans in, his nose brushing against my throat to breathe me in as I shudder. “Now that I know what you taste like, what you like—your scent makes me remember everything.” I feel a barely-there press of his lips against the scent gland at the base of my throat, and if I weren’t already sitting, my knees would most likely be buckling. “The sounds you make when I’m inside you.” His tongue flicks against that same place, and I gasp softly. “The way you taste when you come on my tongue.” I have to close my eyes; I’m not sure I could have ever imagined Noah talking to me like this, but I can’t say I dislike it. “How fucking soft you are when you’re spread out on my bed, wrapped around my knot.”

“Noah,” I whimper, feeling that heat building all over again, obliterating the little calm I’d been experiencing.

“Do you want that, Mackenzie?” His teeth graze my skin, and I have to grasp his shirt just to keep me grounded. “Do you want my knot?”

I squirm under him, all reason whooshing out the window and into the snow. “Noah, I—”

“I can smell how wet you are,” he growls. “I always can. Do you know how crazy it makes me, knowing that’s for me? That made you that way?”

He’s right; my underwear is practically soaked through, and every inch of my skin feels stretched to the point of burning. In fact, feel like I’m burning. Burning from the inside out.

I let a hand wander, fingertips grazing his shirt as they trail down to the bit of skin bared at the hem. When I cup him lower I can how much he wants to give me what he’s offering, his cock straining against his jeans and feeling hot even through the fabric. I know what it will feel like now, how it’ll stretch me to points of pleasure that could almost be pain they’re so intense—and I want it. Right now there’s nothing I want more.

“Fuck,” Noah hisses as I squeeze him through his jeans. “You make me crazy, Mackenzie.”

“I kind of feel a little crazy too,” I whisper.

I draw a sharp breath then as a cramp tears through me, a burst of heat like a current of electricity coursing under my skin to make me feel like I’m on fire. I make a pained sound as Noah pulls away from me, his eyes looking dark with arousal but his brow wrinkled in concern as he presses a hand to my cheek.

“You need—” His breath is ragged, making it obvious that I’m not the only one affected here. “You need to shift,” he says, almost disappointedly. “Soon.”

I can feel his disappointment as a mirror to my own, because I don’t exactly want to give in to the basic instincts of my biology right now, not if it doesn’t involve Noah fucking me in this bed until the burn subsides.

But I know he’s right.

“Can you—” I swallow, but my throat feels dry. “Can you come with me?”

Noah tilts up my chin, his thumb swiping along my lower lip slowly before it slips past my teeth to press against my tongue. I can’t help but lick the pad, rewarded with a rumbling sound from deep in Noah’s chest, his mouth parting with a stuttered breath.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “As long as we’re . . .” His jaw clenches, and there’s that same wildness in his eyes that I can only glimpse in moments like this. I know he is feeling not like himself right now, can scent on him the way he’s affected by what’s happening to me, but strangely, instead of being scared, there is an unfamiliar thrill coursing through me. “As long as we’re here . . . you’re mine, Mackenzie.”

Rational me is still worried this is all hormonal nonsense.

Irrational me doesn’t fucking care.