by Tamar Sloan
Noah’s hands fly up to cup my head, his fingers in my hair, keeping my head still. I stop, confused. His lips come to rest at the edge of my mouth. And he begins mirroring my movements, little flutters along my bottom lip to the opposite corner. My own breath stutters. He moves over my top lip, his mouth hot but oh so light. I practically tremble, knowing what’s coming next.
A hot, hot tongue slips out, and flutters across my bottom lip. Over the one that is waiting, suspended in anticipation.
And it’s my turn to groan.
His mouth crushes down on my parted lips, and his tongue is inside, my own reaching out to meet it. Passion, hunger rocket through me. I angle my head, and Noah is there, moving in closer, hungrily delving deeper. Mouths move, tongues stroke, each exploring, giving and taking. My knees give out and I clamp my hands on his shoulders. His hot hands are around my waist, his scorching hard body my foundation.
I’m spiraling out of control. I pull back, breathing hard. These feelings fire so fast, burn so hot. Shouldn’t there be more tentativeness, fumbling, faltering? Instead the blaze is fueled by sureness, affinity, and feelings more fierce than the sun.
Electric blue eyes look at me; Noah’s breathing is just as labored as mine. A crooked smile tips up those delicious lips.
“We’re gonna have to watch that.”
Tell me about it…
I smile, and I know it’s a small, shy smile. I haven’t recovered enough to talk yet.
“I love your smile, Eden.”
My lips tip up a little wider. “You could look at it all day?” I ask, letting him know the feeling is mutual.
And he grins that grin that leaves me a little breathless, mindless.
“Let’s have some morning tea.”
He walks over to a log and sits and starts pulling off his wet shoes and socks, placing them in the sun. He pads back, those bare feet, his tousled locks, giving him an adorable boyish look. I sigh; is there any look that doesn’t have my heart constricting, swelling or beating madly?
Noah pulls a thermos and two travel mugs out of his bag. “I brought hot chocolate.”
I pull out a paper bag from my own. “I brought cookies.”
“A match made in heaven.”
A picnic blanket closely follows and Noah spreads it beside the log. He pours the hot chocolate then leans against his makeshift backrest. I don’t wait for an invite, but quickly snuggle in next to him. He passes me one of the mugs, and I wrap my hands around it. We sit back, enjoying the peace.
Peace punctuated by the occasional canine bark. Stash and Caesar periodically shoot past, at times a chocolate streak leading, the next a blur of black and brown at the head. Caesar loves this wilderness as much as I do, and now he has a companion to share it with too. During one lap he stops in front of us, barks a happy bark, before following Stash to a new unexplored area. Noah wouldn’t realize the ultimate compliment Caesar has given him by leaving me alone with him.
“Mitch and I spent most summers here. The river is a bit more of a rush with all the melted ice coming down from the mountains.” Noah takes a sip. “What were your summers like?”
“Depends on the city.”
“Where else have you lived?”
“Chicago, Pittsburgh, Detroit. We did a short stint in New York.”
“Quite the nomads, huh? We’ll start with Boston. What was it like?”
I look at him, my eyes no longer masking all the pain of those two years. “I didn’t really fit in.”
His steady gaze holds mine. “They weren’t very nice to you, were they?” His arm curves around my shoulder.
“It was my first day when I came across some kids tormenting a stray kitten.”
“So you helped it.”
“Yeah well, the minute Whiskers curled into my arm, one girl went from ringleader to animal torturer. It turns out the most popular girl in the school found her next victim.”
I feel the flash of anger in the body beside me, and Noah’s right. It wasn’t fair. But I shrug; Boston was the worst, but it was always the same. “I’ve never really fitted in.”
Noah pulls me in, and I nestle farther into his side, head tucked beneath his chin, arms locked around his waist.
“You fit right here.”
And he’s right.
So I stay there, snug and warm, reveling in the perfect fit our bodies make. Our hot chocolates and cookie stash slowly dwindle as the sun progressively rises. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t get any better than this.
Beside me Noah leans back and stretches. “Shall we run?”
“You want to go for a jog?”
“Not quite.”
“I don’t…” Noah has cocked an eyebrow, patiently waiting.
A run!
“You mean, with you as a…”
“Uh-huh.”
“It would be more of stroll for you. I could never keep up.”
Noah rolls his eyes. I think I’m missing the punch line. “You’d be with me.”
With him? My eyes consider popping out of their sockets. He can’t mean what I think he means.
Noah chuckles, amusement lighting his eyes to a clear azure. “Come on.”
He takes my hand and pulls me toward the trees. He can’t mean it, can he?
Once we’re amongst the brown trunks, the pungent scent of pine spilling down on us, Noah releases my hand. He takes a few steps back.
“But—”
He starts to change—growing, his body multiplying. It’s quicker and looks almost painless compared to the change I saw last time, as if it’s becoming familiar. I see a flash of naked chest, his mark capturing my attention for a split second…
And a proud white wolf stands before me. I stand a little open-mouthed. Will this magical transformation always leave me awestruck?
Noah steps forward, his broad head dipping, blue eyes assessing—both striking and imposing. He takes another two steps forward, passing me until his chest is alongside me then stops. He looks over his shoulder, jerking his broad head.
He is serious.
I look at the white body before me: the shoulders just a little lower than mine, curving down to powerful back haunches and the thick, snowy tail. I can’t help myself; my hand reaches out to brush the animal before me, sinking into warm, white fur. That lush tail wags just a smidgen, his body stepping a little closer.
Really serious.
Caesar and Stash rush up. Stash barks madly, his excited tail wagging out of control. Caesar’s brown eyes are wide, entirely unsure of the massive wolf in front of him—an animal that should be a threat, but one that is standing calmly beside me. Noah’s head brushes against me, and I turn back to find soft blue eyes looking into mine. His velvety face grazes mine. My hands come up to touch fuzzy cheeks as I bring my forehead to rest against his.
“What do you think, Caesar?”
I turn my head to gauge his response, letting my cheek rest against Noah. Stash is jumping from side to side, doing a canine Mexican hat dance. Caesar looks at him, then at Noah.
“Woof!” And he’s leaping around the same sombrero, tail high, eyes excited.
“Well, I believe majority wins.”
The wolf beside me does a little excited hop of his own. He lines up before me. I bite my lip, unsure of how to execute this. Noah in wolf form, although not the size of a horse, would give a pony healthy competition. Do I take a run up?
Before I give myself too much time to think, which could be just enough time to change my mind, I leap.
Hands grasp and legs clench around a huge, furry body. It’s almost like I’m practiced at it, even though I’ve never ridden so much as a rocking horse, I land squarely on his back. To my delighted surprise, I don’t bounce straight back down, or fall straight over the other side. Instead, I find myself right in the middle, a saddle of white fur beneath me. I shift a little from side to side, finding the perfect balance.
Noah’s broad head swings to look over his shoulder, and his lips pull back
, his tongue lolling. I smile right back.
“So, shouldn’t we be moving or something?”
And that’s all the prompt he needs. He starts walking forward, heading to the trees. I grip a little tighter, my legs cinching around his ribs, my hands grasping his fur. I can feel muscles bunch and release beneath thick padding. A few feet off the ground, my heart has started to pick up an accelerated rhythm, spurred on by equal parts nervousness and excitement. Please don’t let me fall off. Caesar and Stash leap around down at ground level, barking.
I look at the slow-moving scenery from my elevated vantage point, humbled by the power that is beneath me, for the moment feeling like it’s part of me. Is this what a queen feels like? Although I doubt even royalty has ridden on something so magnificent. What a surreal, exciting feeling. And Noah has chosen to share this with me. I lean forward, my mouth near his ear, white fur tickling my nose.
“Thank you.”
Those glittering blue eyes look back at me, snowy eyebrows raised.
He steps up to a loping gait, his paws setting up a rhythmic cadence. My eyes open a little wider at the increase in speed. My hands grip tighter, and I hope my fingers aren’t digging in. Noah doesn’t seem to mind because trees are passing us with increased momentum. Caesar and Stash step up to a run. The cool air brushes my cheeks, making wide eyes blink a little more rapidly.
Noah agilely steps through the trees, like he’s so much smaller than he is, but with the power inherent of an animal his size. I find myself swaying with each sidestep, dipping with each overhead branch, lifting with each obstacle he steps over. We move deeper into the secluded forest, swallowed by nature, absorbed by the magic of the moment.
Up ahead the trees open out to a sunlit meadow, an expanse of swaying grass brushed gold by the sun. A growl trembles through the body beneath me, and Noah leaps forward. My hands grasp his snowy fur, my legs pulling up to hold more tightly as he accelerates. His ears tip back while his head arches forward. His whole body stretches out to become a streamlined speed machine.
The world becomes a blur of greens and browns and yellows. The wind whips my hair behind me like a sail. Powerful paws thunder out a reverberating rhythm. Unrestrained power is bunching and releasing beneath me. Noah lets out another wild, excited growl.
And I can feel him—everything a little wilder, more raw than before. His own exhilaration, excitement. And another emotion. One that calls to me at a deeper level.
The feelings whip through me, and instead of holding even tighter, I throw my arms wide, arch my back, and tilt my face to the sun. Cool air rushes past me, stinging my face, flowing over my arms and ripping at my clothes. But I don’t feel the cold. Instead I feel pure emotion rising, ascending and erupting from a brimming volcano. Happiness. Joy.
And freedom.
Freedom coursing through my unbound hair and my overflowing heart. The freedom of this day spilling from my lips in delighted laughter. The sound is caught by the wind and whips around us before being snatched by the turbulent wind. Noah throws back his head and howls, his notes joining mine. The privilege, the liberty, the freedom of being with Noah allowing me to do what I thought was almost impossible.
The freedom to touch. The freedom to feel.
The freedom to love.
I blink, surprised but impressed. “But how?”
We’ve come back to the canoe, and the Phelan truck has been parked beneath a tree, a spruce this time.
“Mitch and Tara. Believe me, I’ve done it for them plenty of times. It was time they returned the favor.”
“Oh.”
Caesar and Stash have collapsed by the car, panting heavily. They had to run like the wind, even then not keeping up with Noah’s stride which was so much longer than theirs and so much more powerful. Caesar will sleep well tonight.
We pack up the canoe with the same efficiency we unpacked it, and it’s strapped down to the roof of the truck in a few short minutes. I can’t help but watch strong muscles bunch as Noah lifts, his T-shirt hitching up to show me a flash of abdomen. When I turn from clipping Caesar in, I find Noah’s warm eyes on mine.
We drive back in companionable silence. For the short length down the highway, Noah grasps my hand, his thumb stroking rhythmically over my knuckles. A soft smile is permanently imprinted on my face.
It’s lunchtime when we arrive back at the Inn. Noah pulls up and we unbuckle the dogs. We come around the front of the truck, meeting face to face. I look up into those sculptured features and soft eyes the color of a clear sky, his mouth matching my gently tilted smile.
I take his hand. “Today is unequivocally awarded the best-day-of-my-life.”
Noah’s smile tips up to a dazzling grin. The one that sucks all the air from my lungs. “I was going to give it most-unforgettable-day-of-my-life.”
“Multi-award winning then.”
He steps in so our bodies are flush. “Definitely.”
My hand comes up to stroke his cheek. Finally I can return our good-bye gesture. Noah’s hand comes up to spear into the hair at the base of my neck.
My chin tilts up as he leans down. I love that we’re establishing such a strong, rich economy. His mouth gently brushes mine.
“Have fun studying.”
“I’ll try. Tell Mitch and Tara I said thanks for bringing the car around.”
“Will do.”
We both stand there, hands touching, bodies brushing, lips close. Neither willing our time together to end.
But I know he has to go back to the hospital. To sit beside his silent, unmoving father. The sad knowledge provides closure for the day’s beautiful start.
I step back, cool air replacing his warm heat. “Bye.”
Noah leans back against the truck, arms folded across his front. “Bye.”
I head for the house, Caesar by my side. At the door I give Noah a small wave, cataloguing his muscled frame, tousled hair and gentle smile, as the perfect ending for the unforgettable memories we’ve created, then enter the house.
“Where have you been?” My mother’s voice startles me, and I spin. She’s standing in the lounge, arms crossed. Not in Noah’s relaxed, soft way, but in an angled defensive pose.
I’m not going to let her ruin this. “On my first date.”
Her chin sucks in. “What first date starts at dawn?”
I pause, alternating between angry words on the tip of my tongue, and the urge to ignore the question. “The best ones.”
I walk out of the room, not bothering to see what she thinks of that.
In my room Caesar jumps up onto the bed, does two circles, and collapses with a groan. It appears that trying to keep up with a humungous wolf has exhausted him. I flop down beside him, consciously pushing my mother out of my mind. Her jaded tongue is not going to diminish the wonderful, memorable day I’ve had.
I smile as I remember the rush of those moments when we raced through the clearing, Noah slowing down, doing a semicircle at the end of the clearing, and turning around. Me falling forwards to bury my head in his thick white fur, wrapping my arms around his broad chest. Feeling those powerful shoulder blades move beneath my cheek. The whirling mix of emotions slowing down, teasing apart, until I could almost differentiate them. I’d felt grateful, exhilarated, special, stunned.
But most of all I’d felt the freedom.
The love.
I stare up at the ceiling. Knowing it’s time to acknowledge the truth of my feelings for Noah.
Because I know it’s true.
It’s deep.
And eternal.
It’s a beautiful feeling, a liberating admission.
I frown. It’s also dangerous, making me feel vulnerable. I know Noah cares for me, but the L-word? He’s a Were, and Alpha heir; I’m an ordinary human. Dark thoughts of old nip at the edges of my mind—whispering, hissing, undermining. Reminding me I’m insignificant. That maybe, just maybe, this unexceptional girl is not good enough.
I roll over, facing Caesar, turnin
g away from the voices, just like I did my mother’s. Instead I focus on the words that have sunshine singing through my veins.
I’m in love with Noah Phelan.
30
Noah
I roll over and look at the alarm clock. Red digital numbers tell me it’s eight-thirty.
I shoot upright; I’ve slept in. It would seem running as a wolf can take it out of you. Maybe it was all that time sprinting as if I was about to break the sound barrier. Or maybe it was the rush of doing it with Eden. I smile, pretty sure I’m doing a fairly impressive Goofy impersonation. Either way, I slept the mindless sleep of the exhausted.
Padding to the toilet in nothing but sweats, I pass the bathroom mirror, a tousled sleepy head passing through at the same time. The minute he’s gone, I stop and reverse. He comes back into view, and wide eyes are staring back at me. He sees it too.
My mark has changed.
The wolf is still there, head thrown back, mouth curved in a silent howl. I step closer, and I can see the whites of my eyes expanding. Below, where the Phelan mark should have been is a star—a five-pointed star formed by intersecting lines and surrounded by a circle. I see a hand come up, and I feel my palm pass over it. Then I rub a little harder, the skin pulling and twisting. When my hand drops to my side, it’s still there.
I don’t recognize the symbol; it’s not one I’ve seen anywhere associated with Weres. Where in the heck did it come from?
My mind immediately turns to Eden—how my tattoo has always heated around her. Until recently. Just when I thought my eyes couldn’t get any bigger, I feel their muscles straining. In all the drama I hadn’t noticed that it stopped getting warm. But when? And what does it have to do with her? I’ve never seen something like this before, and Eden has never mentioned having a mark of her own.
I shake my head, my fingers tangling through my messy hair.
