I could dump a million other reasons to love eerie life on her right now, but I press my lips into a straight line and make myself shut up. She’s already overwhelmed enough as it is—I’m here to help her take things slow, move at her own pace.
Noah makes a small sound and I look down to find her observing me. “You’re a caretaker, Ruger,” she declares, as though she’s a touch surprised. “You wouldn’t think so just by looking at you, but I wonder if that’s by design? You know, the big tough exterior that distracts from the warm and gooey center.” She gestures at my tattoos and the space I take up on the swing. “You guard peace and safety in your own way.”
I chuckle and wave my hand in her direction, trying to hide how much her words sink into me, warming everything they touch as they go. “Takes one to know one,” I goad, and she smiles.
“Touché.” Noah is quiet for a moment, her features growing pensive. “Tell me though, who takes care of you when you need a soft spot to land?”
We stop swinging as I stare down at her. “My den,” I tell her evenly as I try to silently communicate the unfathomable bond the four of us have.
It could be hers too if she wanted.
She nods after a beat and then turns back to the lake, relaxing deeper into the swing. We languidly rock back and forth, the chain creaking, the insects singing, the leaves rustling. Her breathing grows slow and even, and when I glance back over at her, I see her wearing a contented smile, the same sort of expression that I’m certain is plastered across my own face.
“Does it get better than this?” I ask, gesturing out over the lake as it mimics the sky’s bright bands of orange. “Good conversation and watching the sunset with a beautiful woman?”
There’s a weighted moment of silence as she considers my words. “Well, maybe it can get a little better.” Then, in a move that blindsides me, she slides her hand across the swing to the empty space in the middle of the seat and then flips it over palm up. Fingers open. Beckoning.
My throat goes dry as I slowly reach out and my big, rough palm engulfs hers.
Soft.
Petite.
Fragile.
I turn back to the lake and watch the sun disappear for the night. But inside of me, something warm and bright dawns as I sit, holding the hand of my mate, rocking back and forth while the world floats on by.
25
NOAH
“They thought they were rebels, Noah! Can you even believe it, and the height of the rebellion was corn,” Melana Arcan tells me conspiratorially, leaning across the table toward me with a wide smile, her berry red lipstick still perfect after an entire meal. All of her is perfect—she’s the epitome of a gorgeous, gracious hostess—full of laughter and, more importantly, embarrassing stories.
“Corn?” I squawk with a laugh, looking over at the bandits themselves and giggling even harder.
“Mom,” Ellery warns in the tone annoyed children use on their parents worldwide.
His warning doesn’t stop her and I’m so glad it doesn’t.
Her bright green eyes light up even brighter. “I know, I know,” she exclaims. “Most kids will steal candy—not that we want them to be stealing anything, mind you—but candy would have at least made some sense. But no, these little mavericks would head off to play in the cornfields just outside town.”
The guys all bow their heads, like they’ve suddenly grown too heavy under the weight of their own embarrassment. My cheeks hurt from grinning so hard.
“They had to be, what, six? Seven?” she asks, looking over at Alpha Morgan, who nods, a wide smile on his face. “Mr. Hendricks’s fields are great little mazes. He designed them that way, instead of rows. Anyway, these stinkers would head out there every day and stuff themselves full of corn. We even found a little bonfire pit where they’d roast it.”
“They didn’t.” I can’t imagine Ellery being a rule breaker at any point in his life. Or Ruger. Perth and Gannon…maybe.
Mirth colors her cheeks pink as she lifts her glass of wine. “They thought they were renegades. Thought they were so bad. Would come home giggling. Not eat dinner. Little did they know, we’d bought out that whole crop for the fall fair, so it was all our corn anyway.”
Next to her, Ruger’s mom, Jordana, titters. The woman initially gave me tough as nails vibes, but under her fierce-looking exterior, she seems nice. Ruger’s mom seems to be the complete opposite of Ellery’s; I’d guess the beta spends more days at the gym than a salon. But they get along like two sisters.
Jordana adds, “Remember how Hendricks used to sneak down and take pictures when they weren’t paying attention? Didn’t they make grass skirts out of the corn husks and call themselves hula monsters?” She starts to wheeze with laughter as she recalls. “I think they’d heard about Gila monsters and totally warped that word.”
Melana snaps her fingers. “Yes! I remember. I’m sure I’ve got a photo of that around here somewhere. Maybe it’s on my wall.”
“Mom. No.”
I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Ellery look embarrassed. The alpha male always seems so calm and confident. But his look right now as he takes a sip of his beer is pure chagrin. It’s a little adorable.
Melana Arcan might be joining my list of new favorites next to Karen.
Sitting at her side is her husband, Morgan Arcan—Ellery’s dad. He shifts in his seat. If I thought the lumberjack-chic alpha was intimidating the first day I met him, it’s nothing compared to how unapproachable he seems in a suit without a tie. I’m talking mafia-don level power, which is only emphasized by his slicked-back hair. Unrivaled authority radiates off him, and it’s like his scent is embedded with shrapnel. I feel the need to duck and cover.
When his eyes settle on me, I gulp.
“So, the boys were telling me earlier that you heard someone outside of their den mindspeak to you last night.”
Well, crap. The lighthearted mood evaporates in a flash as everyone at the table turns their attention to me.
“I did,” I reply, barely able to stifle a “sir” from slipping out along with my answer. “How could they talk to me? I didn’t think it worked that way.”
He shakes his head. “It shouldn’t work like that. I’m not sure.”
His head tilts thoughtfully and he turns to glance at Gannon, who’s seated on my side of the table a few chairs down. His watchful stare studies the younger shifter. “Didn’t you install more sensors and security cameras? Anything?”
My head twists to watch Gannon too, because I knew he was off doing something earlier today, but I didn’t pay attention to what.
Gannon sets down his water glass. “I did, and no. They were all online, yet not a single one picked up on anyone entering or leaving our property aside from us. It’s weird. I’ve added more and adjusted the angles to cover the hole that must have been there. We’ve also increased our shifts.”
“Do you want me to assign some additional enforcers?” the alpha offers.
Wait. They already have enforcers around the house? I didn’t know that.
Gannon’s head tilts from side to side as if in thought. “Yeah, but until we know who the threat is, the vetting process is going to take time.”