Noah's POV
I tell myself I'm fine.
That I don't care.
That it doesn't matter.
Logan can do whatever the hell he wants with Elliot. He can flirt, he can tease, he can let him touch him however he wants. It really is not my business anymore.
But as I storm out of the stadium, my blood is boiling, my nails digging into my palms.
It's the secrecy that gets to me.
Elliot. My best friend. The one who sat by my side when I was pregnant and miserable, the one who took the time to diss my ex, swearing he was just looking out for me. I trusted him.
And yet—there he was, in the showers with Logan. Cozy. Close. Almost kissing
The ache in my chest tightens.
He could've told me. He could've told me. He could've—
Finnian seethes.
'Our mate is a liar,' she hisses in my head. 'He was supposed to be ours.'
Well, far be it from me to say 'I told you so' but, for the record, she's the one that became pro-Logan the moment he fought off a bunch of rogues.
'He protected us from harm,' she snaps. 'He saved us and our cub.'
And now he's exploring my best friend's insides. I believe the negative cancels out the positive.
I shove out the doors, blinking against the sting of frustrated tears. Is it harsh to say I didn't expect anything less from Logan? That's just how he is. Selfish. Self-centered. Determined to get his way without caring who he screws over or who he screws. He wants to be with me, he wants to sleep with Elliot; in his pea brain, those are both things he can do with no hassle.
Well, I'm not the cake that he can eat and have.
I reach into my pocket, rummaging for my keys when my phone starts ringing.
Kieran.
"Yes?" I answer, unable to keep the anger from my tone.
"Woah there, are you a werewolf or a pit viper?" Kieran's teasing tone holds slight hesitation.
I sigh. It wasn't my intention to take my anger out on him. "I'm sorry. Rough day."
"I'm sorry," his voice is warm, steady. "Might I suggest something to make you feel better?"
"And what might that be?"
"Come over?"
For a moment, I hesitate. Maybe I should just go home, crawl into bed, forget today ever happened.
But what's waiting for me at home?
Oliver, with his father's eyes, looking up at me like I hang the moon.
Memories of Logan in our bed, Logan's hands on me, Logan's mouth whispering sweet things before he left and never came back.
Me being a father without the support I hoped I'd have to take care of my cub?
'When was the last time you did something just for you?'
Thanks for the advice, Elliot. I won't be going home.
"Text me your address."
---
Kieran's apartment is in Solivern pack territory, nestled in a quiet neighborhood, the kind of place with clean sidewalks and well-kept gardens. It smells different from Lykandor land— less like earthy and woody, more like a gated suburban community.
When Kieran opens the door, he's still tugging a T-shirt over his head, his toned chest and abs on full display for a few precious seconds.
I look.
I look.
Finnian purrs.
Kieran catches my stare and smirks. "See something you like?"
I snort. "You wish."
He lets out a laugh and steps aside, motioning for me to come in. "Welcome to my humble abode. I'd give you a tour, but I'm pretty sure my pasta is about to burn."
I step inside, taking in the space. It's warm. Lived in. Not overly decorated, but there's a softness to it—the way his books are stacked on the coffee table, the framed pictures of his family, the gentle glow of warm lighting.
Cozy.
I follow him to the kitchen, where he's stirring a pot of sauce, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Kieran gestures to the counter. "Please, sit."
I hop onto a stool, watching as he curses under his breath and lifts a steaming pot from the burner.
"So," I say, "is this a candlelit dinner type of thing?"
Kieran chuckles. "First off, it's lunch. And I cooked it in a hurry, so let's pray it's not toxic. But sure, I suppose if I slap a candle between us, we can call it that."
He checks his watch and slides over to the fridge to pull out some more ingredients. I can't tell what they are because I'm not even looking. His ass looks so good in short; long, toned legs in all their hairy glory shooting out of the hem. I wonder if he works out, wonder if he's considered playing baseball.
"You didn't have to cook," I point out.
Kieran shrugs. "Well, I wasn't going to feed you takeout after a hard day at work."
Oh shit. He's cooking for me.
I feel something in my chest unclench.
How long has it been since someone did something as simple as cook for me?
"Well, you didn't have to cook for my sake," I say softly.
He grins at me over his shoulder, "Are you trying to escape my radioactive pasta, Bennett?"
I pick up a nearby kitchen towel and toss it at him. "It actually smells delicious, you idiot. But, For the record, I'm very okay with takeout. Besides, you had work too. It's not fair that you're slaving away in the kitchen after that for me."
Kieran turns around and points his spoon at me, his eyes glistening with mischief. "I'll have you know now that I love cooking. You can thank my mum for that."
"Goddess bless Mama K."
His smile widens as he turns back to his cooking. "And I haven't gone to work yet. I have a night shift, I'm free for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I wanted to spend them with you."
My breath catches.
There's something about the way he says it. Like I matter. Like I'm someone worth making time for.
I stand, my feet moving before I can think better of it. Kieran is still stirring sauce when I walk up behind him.
"What about you?" He asks without looking up. "I hope I'm not keeping you from Oliver?"
He's so close. I have to touch him. "He's with my neighbour. She's a sweet old lady who spoils him rotten, I think he'll be fine."
Kieran's laugh is warm and sweet, like the fizz in a bottle of champagne. "Well, in that case, let's enjoy our candle-lit lunch."
"You haven't put a candle on the table yet," I murmur.
He laughs again. That laugh is quickly becoming my new favourite sound. "Don't tease me, I'll bite you."
I press up against his back, my hands sliding around his waist, fingers grazing the muscles beneath his shirt.
"Then do it."
Kieran inhales sharply. His entire body tenses.
"Noah," his voice is low, like a warning. "What are you doing?"
I trail my hands up his chest, teasing over his nipples. He shudders.
"I don't think I could be any more obvious, K," I whisper, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck.
His breath stutters. "Noah, wait—"
"I don't want to wait," I say, voice hushed. I pinch his nipple lightly and he groans, the sound deep and guttural.
Finnian urges me forward, pushing desire through my veins.
Kieran is strong, steady, safe. The opposite of Logan in every way.
And the thought of him touching me has me in a frenzy. Ever since that night in the bar, ever since he edged me and held me there, I've wanted this. And now, my wolf wants it too.
He said he won't fuck me when I smell like Logan. But the kitchen smells like pasta and sauce and I smell like an omega in heat. I don't know if Logan's scent rubbed off on me from our brief interaction but I'm sure Kieran will make an exception just this once.
I press closer, rocking my hips against him. "Please, Kieran. I want you."
"Fuck," he curses, his voice taut with restraint. "The pasta. Aren't you hungry?"
I kiss the nape of his neck, the shell of his ear. I nibble on the lobe. "I'm hungry. Just not for the food."
He growls. Low. Dangerous. The sound makes my stomach flip.
He switches off the stove, then whirls around so fast it makes me dizzy.
I'm pressed against the counter before I can blink.
Kieran's eyes have darkened, burning with the same hunger I feel.
I know that look.
I smirk. "Oh, hi, Kaiser."
Kieran grips my waist, his fingers digging in just enough to make me shiver.
"You're being a very naughty omega right now," he murmurs, voice rough, edged with something primal. "If we don't stop now, I might mark you."
I tilt my head, exposing my neck.
"Then do it," I breathe. "Make me yours."
His growl vibrates through me.
Then his lips are on mine, hard, hungry, demanding.
I moan into his mouth, grinding against his thigh like a needy thing. The weight of him, the heat, the way he's holding me down— it's making my head spin.
I want this.
I need this.
Need him to devour me, to tear me down until all I can think of is him. I am putty in his hands and I need him to mold me into a wolf free of the fangs of my ex.
Kieran tears his lips away and starts kissing down my jaw, my throat. He nips at my skin, leaving love bites in his wake. My breath is nonexistent, every nerve ending in my body is on fire. I can taste his arousal, taste the scent of my own heat.
I bare my throat, letting him take what he wants.
His fangs graze the sensitive junction between my neck and shoulder. His tongue laves over my scent gland, preparing me for his mark.
His nails dig into my hips, holding me still, keeping me close.
I whimper, aching harder than I've ever ached before. "Please, Kier. Make me yours."
His fangs press down.
I brace for the bite.
For the bond.
For the release.
And then—
Kieran pulls away.
His hands slide from my waist to wrap around me, holding me close, but not like a lover. Like a friend. Like someone who cares too much to take advantage of my desperation.
His breath is warm against my hair when he whispers, "I want you, Noah. But I refuse to be just your escape."