He doesn’t.
I lean toward him, doing my best to look as unchallenging as possible and whisper in a conspiratorial tone. “She’s safe. Look, she’s covered now. She’s not exposed. The only wolves around are us…see?”
Ruger’s growl morphs into a desperate groan as he fights his instincts and tries to regain control. I fight back my own animalistic drive as I feel his pain lash out in bright, stinging gusts. Resisting is unnatural for a wolf. But so is having an adult naif running in a Hunt and getting claimed.
Noah is breathtaking and strong, and I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Fending off the need to touch her, to caress her, to rub my nose along the crook of her neck and gulp down her erotic scent…it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But it’s what she needs. We have to be what she needs.
“Need her,” Ruger mindspeaks, the tension in his mental voice vibrating with all the force he’s using to hold himself back.
“We can’t freak her out if we want to keep her,” I reply, unsure if he’s capable of rationality right now. I really, really don’t want to have to shift to block him. A violent face off will fuck up the progress we’ve made with Noah.
“Go run it off,” I order, which might be a stupid thing to do at this moment because, technically, Ruger’s wolf is a touch more dominant than mine. It’s never been an issue before, but we’ve also never had a mate before. I’ve never seen this sort of shimmering need in his eyes. He doesn’t ever lose control like this, but clearly this witch trick and the scraps of pink barely covering our girl are too much for him to handle.
Ruger’s head bombards me with a series of images of us kissing Noah, each of us on either side of her, grasping her hips, pressing her against the wall, peeling her out of the lace and straps—all the things his animal nature is calling for.
The yearning sears through his lungs, and I swear I feel it transfer into me. I have to squeeze my eyes closed against it.
Noah’s breathing picks up, and a layered scent of enticing desire rolls off her to mix with the acrid bite of her unease. Whether she knows it or not, she’s responding to Ruger and his dominant display—and it’s not all fright and alarm. I want to explore that, point it out to her, explain why we’re being driven together and why we should act on this hunger. I want to pull the smell of her need deep into my lungs, let it fuel my body to close the distance between us and rip the small bits of fabric from her lithe body, but I can’t get past the taint of her trepidation.
We’re fucking this up for her. If we’re not careful and we push too hard too soon, her panic will drown everything out and she’ll slip through our fingers just when we’ve barely caught hold of her.
“Can’t you smell it? She’s nervous. She’s scared,” I point out to Ruger, hoping the sour trace of alarm in the air will slap some sense into him.
“Fuck!” Ruger bellows in my head, and I can tell he’s picked up on the scent and hates that it’s coming off her as much as I do.
“I know it’s hard, but go run it off. I’ve got her,” I tell him aloud, suffusing all the dominance I can into the order. If Ellery were here, he’d shut Ruger down with a single order. Perks of being our den’s leader and the most alpha-dominant of the four of us.
Ruger grits his teeth, fighting the change, shaking as he tries to get the black veins to recede. His eyes are still locked on Noah, and she sucks in a breath. Her small noise of fear is what finally snaps him out of it. His green eyes flash, and then with a growl, he spins on his heel away from me and strides out of the shop. The door slams shut behind him.
Thank fuck.
That could have ended badly.
Noah watches the door, and the struggle whether to go after him or not is written all over her face. It’s what my instincts need to see, because she may not be ready to admit it to herself yet, but she’s ours.
Trista and Astrid look a bit sheepish, but I can’t tell if Karen looks repentant or pleased. Knowing her, it’s probably both.
I slap a shaky grin on my face and do my best to de-escalate the situation.
“Well, that outfit’s a definite yes,” I declare, a little out of breath as I settle my apprehensive gaze back on Noah. “Almost made my boy shift himself,” I tease.
Noah stares at me, the look on her face worried as my attempt at levity falls flat as a pancake between us.
“Is he okay?” she asks, her gaze moving from mine back to the door Ruger just disappeared through.
She’s worried about him. That’s good, maybe this won’t set us back.
“He’ll be fine,” I reassure her.
He might toss around a few cars outside to burn off some of his frustration, but nothing we haven’t had to deal with before.
Noah levels me with a come the fuck on look. “He didn’t look fine to me,” she argues.
“That’s because Ruger is a pillar of calm control. It takes a lot to get him riled up. That’ll make more sense when you meet his family,” I explain. “He’ll be right as rain after a good long run.”
“Fuck,” she whispers, running her fingers through the long silky strands of her hair, which reach almost to her waist.
The pink robe she’s wearing rides up her thighs with the motion, and I have to look away to keep a hold of myself.
“First Ellery and now Ruger. What the hell am I even doing? Why am I standing here playing dress up while everything around me is a complete mess?”
My brow furrows. “What happened with Ellery?”
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she declares, and my stomach lurches at the distress I see on her face. “I don’t know how to be a wolf, or an eerie, or how to stand still in one place for longer than a year. I sure as fuck don’t know how to be someone’s mate, let alone mates with all four of you. This is so fucked.”
Shit. She’s spiraling.
I shoot a quick glare at Karen, and she cringes and points at herself and then the door. She slinks out as Noah drops her face into her hands, and I close the distance between us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Astrid and Trista disappear through the curtain of beads that leads to their back room. I sigh, grateful that we’re alone, or at least have the illusion of privacy so I can try to help my mate.
“Shifters are sensitive creatures,” I tell her as I move closer. “We feel everything just a little more intensely. Happiness, anger, need—our emotions ride us hard. And sometimes our baser nature rises up to meet that call. It’s not a bad thing or a good thing. It just is. That’s all that happened with Ruger, so don’t let it freak you out,” I explain. “Take it as a compliment.”
“A compliment.”
“He wants to protect you, keep you safe.” I don’t add that his plan to do that mostly involved pinning her to the wall, fucking her so hard the building would shake, and then biting the shit out of her.
Noah sighs and shakes her head, dropping her arms and looking around the room as though she’s searching for something. She fists her hands and then releases the tension, only to fist them again, before her wandering gaze lands back on the door like she wants to run.