Noah's POV
I spot Kieran the moment I step inside.
He's sitting in a booth near the back of the bar, still wearing his Coyotes jersey. To be fair, half the town is wearing Coyotes jerseys right now. Game days are big here even though we don't always win… usually don't win.
Still, Kieran looks way better than any of the drunken oafs loitering around in his own jersey. His sleeves are pushed up to reveal the firm muscle of his forearms. The dim lighting makes the deep olive of his skin glow, and his dark eyes catch the low neon light, flicking toward me the second I walk in.
He grins, slow and easy. "There he is."
Something in my chest flutters.
I make my way over, slipping into the booth across from him. "You came straight from the stadium?"
"Not exactly," Kieran says, tipping his glass toward me in a silent toast. "I dropped my nephew off at home first, but I didn't want to waste any more time changing, so here I am."
I grin, "So you were in that much of a hurry to see me."
Kieran laughs, revealing perfect white teeth. "Yeah yeah, you've caught me. Punish me as you deem fit."
The words are simple, casual, but the meaning behind them makes my stomach tighten. I lean across the table and, to both his surprise and mine, drop a kiss on his temple.
"That didn't feel like a punishment," Kieran breathes.
"I was excited to see you too," I say, my voice barely a whisper.
Finnian huffs, pressing against the edges of my mind. 'You were excited for mate to breed you…'
It takes the self control of a saint not to roll my eyes. Not this again.
I can't think about Logan right now.
A waitress swings by, and we both order drinks—Kieran a whiskey neat, me a simple gin and tonic. Something light. Something safe.
Something that won't make me too tipsy.
We talk. The conversation flows easily, just like last time. He tells me about a patient he had to help stitch up earlier in the day—an omega who'd gotten way high on Siren scales and thought he could climb a rooftop like a mountain goat.
"Broke his wrist," Kieran says, shaking his head fondly. "And the whole time I was wrapping him up, he was still arguing that he could have made it if the wind hadn't been 'such a bitch.'"
I laugh. "At least he has confidence."
"Confidence doesn't keep your bones intact, sweetheart."
The casual endearment hits me low in the stomach.
I take a sip of my drink, just to give myself something to do, and—
Fuck.
The moment the alcohol slides down my throat, I hear it.
You were always such a lightweight. I loved how horny you'd get when tipsy.
Logan's deep and teasing voice curls inside my skull like a damn parasite.
My grip tightens around my glass.
I set it down.
Kieran catches the movement immediately. "Something wrong?"
"No, I just—" I clear my throat. "It's stronger than I expected."
Kieran watches me for a second. Then, with slow deliberation, he reaches across the table.
His fingers tip up my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His touch is firm, and the weight of it makes something deep inside me quiver.
His voice is soft. "I'd have you know now that I do not appreciate being lied to."
A shudder rips down my spine.
It's not Logan's Alpha voice—it doesn't slam into me like a physical force. But there's still something about the quiet command in Kieran's tone that digs beneath my skin, gets past my walls, and wraps itself around my instincts.
He's not an Alpha.
But he could ruin me if he wanted to.
"I'm really, really…" I try to think of an excuse, something clever, but my brain is fogged over with warmth.
Kieran's brows raise in amusement.
I exhale, defeated.
"Turned on right now."
His smirk is slow, dangerous.
He leans in just enough for me to feel the heat of his breath against my skin. "Is this his doing?"
I can feel half the warmth in my body rush to my face and the other half rush somewhere lower.
I want to lie. I should lie. But I'm not even going to try it after what he's just told me.
I nod.
Kieran's chuckle is dark and quiet, the sound curling into my ear like sin.
"I can smell him on you, you know?" He murmurs, lips just barely brushing the shell of my ear. "Underneath all the desperation, of course."
I shudder, my fingers clenching against the table.
"You're not being fair right now," I manage to grind out.
Kieran's teeth graze his bottom lip, amused. "You're the one lusting after your ex in the middle of our date."
His words are smooth, but the sharp edge beneath them isn't lost on me.
"Who says this is a date?" I say it just to push his buttons.
But Kieran's smirk doesn't falter. He traces my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. "Do you want him?" he asks.
It's instinct to say, "No."
The moment the word leaves my mouth, his nails dig into my thigh—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to sting, enough to make me jolt.
A sharp wave of arousal shoots through me.
I whimper before I can stop myself.
Kieran hums in satisfaction.
"It's not like I don't understand," he says, low and syrupy sweet. "After all, you were together for a long time. Relationships like that tend to dig beneath the skin."
His fangs graze down the side of my neck, right over the spot Logan's mouth was on earlier. My breath catches.
"So many memories attached," Kieran muses. "But don't you think it's time to make new ones?"
I swallow thickly, throat parched. "Is that what you suggest, Doc?"
Kieran chuckles. "Of course." Then, right against my skin, he murmurs, "Afterall, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."
It's an old cliché. A meaningless phrase.
But fuck, it feels like everything right now.
Usually, I'd joke back—'And who do you recommend I get under?'—but I'm too far gone, too hot, too eager to submit like the good omega I am.
Instead, I breathe:
"Kiss me."
Kieran's smirk deepens. He ghosts a kiss over the corner of my lips, teasing.
"That's not very polite."
I whine, eyes pleading. "Please, Kieran."
His eyes flash with heat. "Better."
Then he kisses me—hungry, claiming, possessive.
I melt into him.
Even Finnian quiets down from sheer instinct.
I grind against Kieran's thigh as our tongues slide together, desperate for more, needing more.
You're always so responsive when you're doing things you're not supposed to.
Logan's voice creeps into my head again, but this time, I drown it out.
Kieran rubs my bulge through my pants, pulling away just enough to murmur, "You really are turned on, poor thing."
I groan, embarrassed. Wrecked.
"Please, K."
Kieran bites down on my lower lip before releasing it with a smirk. "You want me to take care of it?"
"Yes," I whisper, my moan breathless. "Please, touch me."
Kieran exhales, running his fingers just under the waistband of my pants. My hips jerk towards him, searching for purchase. For release at his hands. But Kieran is nimble, cruel. He skirts around where I want him to touch the most, grazing but never touching, teasing but never giving me the pressure I need.
I whimper into his ears. "Please, Kieran. Touch me."
He growls and it's a sound from deep within. A call from his wolf. Finnian whimpers at the sound of it. The little traitor; she gives me so much shit for running from Logan but she wants this as much as I do.
Suddenly, Kieran takes his hand away,
I groan, shifting against him. "Kieran—"
He leans in, voice smooth, wicked, final.
"I'm not going to fuck you when you smell like him."
Then he pulls away, straightens, and—like he wasn't just teasing me into a feverish mess—waves down the waiter with complete nonchalance.
I stare at him, absolutely on edge, aching, desperate.
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I nearly draw blood.
Because I want to scream.