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 do 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.”
Taken care of you.
It makes me shiver thinking about it, because I know that taking care of me 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.”
Oh.
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 knows. 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.
The genes in this family, I swear.
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.