The Fake Mate

i have to admit, there had been a part of me that had actually believed that it wouldn’t be a big deal, this thing between Noah and me. My last few shifts have been so busy that I hadn’t taken the proper time to lift my head up and notice my coworkers being dodgy. Sure, I assumed the news would get out, but I don’t think I’d actually prepared myself for how interesting literally everyone would find it. I guess I underestimated how rarely this place gets fed good gossip. Our story might as well be blood in the water.

I can see it now in the furtive glances when I walk down the hall, hear it in the whispers that seem to stop as soon as I enter a room; hell, an RN I’ve never met before approached me in the break room only an hour after my shift had started to ask me if I was actually seeing Noah Taylor. I couldn’t exactly tell if she was envious of me or worried I was in a hostage situation. To be fair, either scenario is entirely within the realm of possibility. I mean, Noah might be surly, but he is arguably also very hot.

By lunchtime, I’m half considering taking my food into a bathroom stall to get a break from it all, but I reason that the best way to disperse the curiosity quickly is to face it head-on as if nothing is amiss. Parker sidestepped my invitation to eat with me in the hospital cafeteria, claiming he had a server issue he needed to work on, but I suspect he is punishing me for what he feels is a bad judgment call. He likes to pretend he’s my mother sometimes.

I find out quickly I hadn’t needed to look for a lunch date at all, having underestimated the number of people who would want to grill me about my new relationship status. Gossip, it seems, is an ample incentive for social interactions. I’ve barely had time to unwrap my plastic spoon and open my apple juice when a familiar face plops down into the seat across from the table.

“You have to tell me everything.”

I take a sip of my juice to give myself a moment to form an answer, noticing how excited my friend Priya looks and taking it as a bad sign. I have to remind myself that I cannot tell anyone else the truth, even if the other person is someone I like. Noah would be pissy as it is if he knew I told Parker.

I feign ignorance. “Sorry?”

“Don’t you dare.” Priya rolls her eyes, flicking her long, inky hair over one shoulder. “How could you not tell me?”

“I . . .” I shift in my seat. I’m not the best liar in the world. I should have taken that into account before I jumped into this agreement so readily. “You see, Noah and I decided before I started that we wouldn’t—”

“I mean, I get it,” Priya huffs. “I heard from Jessica in Radiology”—I have never met Jessica from Radiology, and I’m already wondering what makes her the authority on my fake relationship—“that you didn’t want to, like, color your reputation with his or something. Totally respect that and all, but I can’t believe I’ve missed out on a year’s worth of gossip. What’s it like?”

My brow arches. “What’s what like?”

“Don’t even,” Priya tuts. “What’s it like being with an alpha?”

“Oh.” Right. That’s supposed to be a unique experience. I guess it would make sense that other shifters would be curious about it. I try for a casual response. “It’s honestly not any different than any other shifter guy. Mechanics are all the same.”

“Bullshit,” she scoffs. “It’s so rare for an omega and an alpha to hook up. It has to be mind-blowing, right?”

Oh. Right.

Suddenly I’m second-guessing my decision to tell Priya what I am.

“Well, I . . .” I try to think of something that might sate her curiosity. “It’s definitely the best I’ve ever had.”

Honestly, it’s almost unfair that I have to lie about this without ever having gotten the chance to try it out for myself.

“But I mean—” Priya looks around before she lowers her voice, like she’s afraid of being overheard. “Is it true they have . . . You know. Right? Do they?”

She’s absolutely lost me. “What do you mean?”

“You know . . .” Another furtive glance around us, and then she leans in closer. “A knot.”

Oh. Oh. Wow. That’s not something I’ve actively considered yet. The mechanics of Noah’s . . . private parts. Knotting had been at the very bottom of my list of things I wanted to ask Noah about during our lunch date yesterday.

“Oh, um.” I can feel heat at the tips of my ears and in my cheeks. “That’s . . . Well.”

“Oh my God, you’re blushing. You have to tell me what it feels like. Does it hurt? Do you have to get used to it? How long does it usually last after it happens? Are you, like, stuck together for an hour or something?”

I was not prepared for the knotting section of the fake mate quiz.

“Oh, it’s . . . great,” I tell her, figuring the least I can do is substantiate her fantasy. “Life-changing, really. Once you go knot you’ll . . . want for . . . not.”

Priya bursts out laughing, gaining us attention from an elderly gynecologist sitting nearby who I recognize from my rounds. I mentally urge him to turn back to his tuna salad, knowing even someone in his field is most likely as unprepared for this conversation as I am.

“Shh.” I lean in conspiratorially. “I’m totally kidding. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Says you,” Priya snorts. “God. It must be so nice to have someone to spend your heat with.” She looks almost wistful. “Those heat hookup apps are a fucking nightmare.”

I can’t tell her that I wouldn’t know on either front. No way would I ever let anyone’s incisors near me when I was on my heat.

“I can’t even imagine what it’s like being with Noah,” she barrels on, blessedly changing the subject. “Does he frown during sex?”

Now it’s my turn to laugh, because I could actually picture it, strangely. “It’s a sexy frown.”

I feel like I shouldn’t be thinking about sex with Noah, because that feels like crossing some imaginary line, but I can’t help it. A girl can only discuss knots for so long before unwarranted mental pictures start to pop up. I mean, Noah is . . . not bad-looking. Big too. If he smiled once in a while, I bet he would do all right for himself in that department.

It’s perfectly natural to imagine it, I think. Especially since I’m sitting here having to talk about my supposed experience with it; I’m not sure how it hasn’t occurred to me yet, the supposed compatibility between an alpha and an omega. I know from medical school that an alpha can’t even properly knot with anyone but an omega—which has me wondering if Noah has experienced it himself. This entire line of thought has me pressing my thighs together a little tighter, beyond my control, a strange tingling between my legs as my heart rate picks up a few beats.

“But he must not be so bad,” Priya points out, dragging my mind out of the gutter. “Not if you mated him. Right?”

I consider that, if for no other reason than to save myself from the train of thought that’s working me up. I definitely don’t need to be getting horny in a hospital cafeteria over a man I’m pretending to date. A week ago, her question would have been easy to answer, but now that I’ve spent a little time with Noah, I’m not so sure. I’d built up a perception of him in my head, just like everyone else who’s ever come across him, I’m sure, but now I’m wondering if a lot of the things I’ve heard about Noah have been grossly overexaggerated, as he would say.

“He’s not as bad as he wants you to think he is,” I tell her, believing it, weirdly. “He’s just intense.”

“Understatement of the year,” Priya scoffs. “I’m dying to know how you guys met.”

Uh-oh. That’s not something we went over. Why is that not something we went over? It’s the first thing people ask. We really are terrible at this dating thing.

“Ah. Well. It’s a funny story actually.” It could be a hilarious story, given that I’m not even sure what I’m about to say. “What happened was—You see—”

Priya’s cell phone begins to ring, and she gives me an apologetic look. “Hold that thought.”

I listen to her tone go from expectant to urgent, telling someone on the other line that she will “be right there” after less than a minute of speaking. My whirring brain says a silent prayer of thanks.

“Sorry,” she groans. “They need me on the third floor.” She pauses before leaving, looking at me expectantly. “You two are coming to Betty’s retirement party this weekend, right?”

“Two?”

“You and Noah!”

“Oh.” I can already envision Noah’s look of distaste. “Actually, I haven’t run it by him. Totally slipped my mind.”

“Well, hurry and go ask him. You have to bring your scowly hubby. I have a bet with my tech that he turns into a bat at night.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll be sure to check his schedule.”

“Perfect,” she says. She points at me with narrowed eyes as another thought seems to cross her mind. “But I still want that story next time I see you.”

“Sure,” I tell her. “You got it.”

She blows a kiss in my direction. “See you later!”

I stream a puff of air between my lips when she’s gone, grateful for the bullet I just dodged. How in the hell did Noah and I fail to come up with a “how we met” story? It’s practically the foundation of every relationship.

Then again, I’m trying to imagine a scenario where Noah and I would have met organically outside of work and then also fell in love organically to the point where I would let him bite me and spend the rest of my life with him—and I’m drawing a blank. So it makes sense that we forgot that little detail.

Although, thanks to Priya, I’m definitely not having too hard of a time imagining how we might have met outside of work and fallen into bed together. Again, not a safe line of thought.

I shake my head as I’m finally able to give my soup (broccoli and cheddar this time) proper attention, making a mental note to add a “meet cute” to the list of things Noah and I need to fabricate.

If that’s even possible.

near the end of my shift, after enduring a few more hours of whispers and stares and direct interrogations from people I’ve hardly even talked to before today, I decide to seek out my coconspirator and see how his day has fared. I need to know how dark his mood is before I hit him with a party invite this soon in the game.

I haven’t been to Noah’s office since the very first time I met him, doing my best to avoid it before all this, but it’s easy enough to find on his floor. His nameplate outside the door is shiny and neat and professional-looking, reminding me of the man himself. I raise my fist to knock lightly against the wood, hearing his low voice beckon me inside as I turn the knob to push the door open.

Noah is sitting at his desk when I open the door, leaning back in his chair with a frown on his face and his fingers laced across his stomach. He seems surprised to see me, his expression changing minutely when I enter, giving him an awkward smile as I start to open the door fully and step inside.

“Hey. It’s me, you’re so-called—”

I close my mouth as the door swings wider to reveal that Noah is not alone, an older male shifter who I recognize but whose name I can’t recall standing on the other side of his desk. I know he works on this floor with Noah, at least. His hair has already begun to gray around his ears, giving me the impression he must be at least a decade older than me and maybe even Noah, his skin an unnatural tan shade that someone like him could only get by spending a lot of his spare time in a tanning bed, given where we live. It makes him look . . . leathery, to be honest. I guess I’ve never noticed since this is the first time I’ve seen him up close. I mentally curse myself for nearly blowing our cover.

“Oh,” I say awkwardly when I collect myself while shooting Noah a wary glance. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were in a meeting.”

The older man smiles, waving away my apology. “It’s all right. I just stopped by to chat with your mate about a patient I’m having some trouble with. Congratulations, by the way. The whole department is beside themselves that our resident genius has apparently been off the market for over a year. Don’t know how he kept it a secret all this time.”

“Oh yeah.” I laugh nervously, shifting my weight from one foot to the other as my eyes dart from Noah, who looks stern, back to the man whose smile seems off somehow. “Well, you know Noah . . . he’s a stoic one.”

“Right,” the man chuckles. He steps closer to offer his hand. “I’m Dennis, by the way. Dennis Martin. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

“Oh, right. You’re a cardiologist, too, aren’t you?”

“That’s right,” Dennis says with that same smile that is starting to creep me out. It feels forced. “Not nearly as important as your mate here. Just one of the worker bees.”

I’m not sure what to say to that, glancing at Noah to catch him rolling his eyes out of Dennis’s line of sight.

“You must be so proud to be with a department head,” Dennis goes on. “I can completely understand why you wanted to keep it a secret though. Wanting to make a name for yourself outside his shadow is very admirable.”

“Yeah, well . . .” I shrug noncommittally. “Gave it our best shot, at least. You know how gossip goes.”

Dennis’s eyes crinkle as his smile widens, nodding. “Right.” He gives Noah his attention then, seeming to be done with our conversation. “I’ll check with you later about that patient file. See what you think.”

“Sounds great,” Noah says flatly. “I’ll shoot you an email after I’ve gone over it.”

“Perfect.” Dennis smiles at me again. “Good to meet you, Dr. Carter.”

“Mack is fine,” I answer out of habit.

“Mack,” he echoes. “Have a good day.”

I watch as Dennis walks past me to leave us, waiting until he’s closed the door behind him before raising one eyebrow in Noah’s direction. “He seems like buckets of fun.”

“He’s a pain in my ass,” Noah grumbles. “He still thinks he should have been given the department head title because of his seniority, but he’s too much of a kiss-ass to be outright uncivil with me. So instead, I have to put up with his fake niceties even though he spends most of his time bad-mouthing me to anyone who will listen.”

“Yikes.” I stick out my tongue. “Sounds like a bitter bitch to me.”

Noah’s mouth twitches, the closest he’s come to smiling since we started our little arrangement. “He is that.” He cocks his head. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah.” I cross the room to drop down into the chair opposite his desk, tucking one leg under my thigh as I get comfortable. “But I also wanted to see if your day was as wild as mine.”

Noah’s brow furrows. “Wild?”

“I have seriously had at least ten people ask about you. Half of them I’ve barely even spoken to before. You didn’t get any of that?”

Noah looks surprised. “Not really. It was business as usual.”

“Ugh.” I shake my head. “Probably because they’re too scared to ask you. I guess I’ll be the one to bear the brunt of the gossip.”

Noah looks apologetic. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “So far, it’s mostly been funny. I’m pretty sure at least three of the people I talked to today insinuated you had some kind of alpha mind-control powers and worried I might be in a captive scenario.”

“I guess as far as reasons why you would saddle yourself with me go, that one isn’t completely far-fetched.”

“Hey, don’t be all mopey. There were at least four others who I’m almost positive were jealous. Just saying, you’ve got options out there when we fake break up.”

He frowns. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” he offers again, looking genuinely concerned. “That you’re having to deal with it.”

I wave him off. “It’s okay. I’m a big girl. It’s annoying, but it’s entertaining at least.” I grin at him slyly. “You’ll deal with worse when you meet my grandmother. I assure you she will be ten times more insufferable than anyone working at this hospital could ever hope to be. I’ll make that your penance.”

“Something to look forward to,” Noah says dryly.

“I’m sure it will be sooner rather than later,” I grumble. “Gran isn’t going to sleep until she’s fed you and confirmed that you’re real.”

“Is it really such a novelty that you would find your own significant other?”

My brow quirks. “Are you trying to make a jab at me?”

“No, no.” He looks genuinely contrite. “I just meant . . .” He rubs at his neck, and there is a wafting of his scent that comes with it that feels stronger than it had been only days ago. I guess his body is clear of any lingering effects from the suppressants. “I just find it surprising that you would even need your grandmother’s help in that department in the first place.”

Oh. Is Noah Taylor actually saying I’m attractive? That wasn’t on my fake mate bingo card.

“It’s just not on my list of priorities,” I tell him honestly. “Men are complicated. Shifter men even more so.”

Noah gives me a commiserating nod, almost like he’s silently apologizing for his gender. I don’t say that he doesn’t know the half of it; my omega status means that dating is a headache even without Gran’s “help.” Seriously. The minute they find out what I am it’s nothing but breeding and baby talk. It’s funny, people tend to avoid alphas like Noah, but seek out people like me due to some nonsense stereotype about us being hypersexual or something. I guess in a way we both have our downsides to what we are. Which, coincidentally, reminds me I have yet to tell Noah about my designation. He hardly seems the type to start howling at the moon on my behalf, so maybe it’s weird to continue to not mention it.

Although, I can’t say I’m not curious now. After seeing Priya at lunch, it’s been hard not to consider the, ah, finer details of Noah’s alpha anatomy. I can’t just ask, right? That’s not cool. I wonder how many days you have to be fake dating before it’s okay to ask about the structure of your pretend boyfriend’s dick? More importantly, why does the thought of said pretend boyfriend’s dick make me feel tingly inside?

“How was your day otherwise?”

His question distracts me, and that’s probably a good thing. “My day?”

“Yes, I . . . I guess I’m asking how you’re doing in general? I would hate to think of you struggling for my sake.”

Now he’s worrying about me. Another unexpected square for my bingo card.

“Oh. Well. Yeah? It was fine. I had to set a broken arm for a woman with a pain tolerance of about a negative seven, so that was fun. Even with anesthetics, she acted like I was killing her. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her wailing from all the way up here.”

The corner of Noah’s mouth tilts, so subtly I might almost miss it. “That sounds like loads of fun.”

“You better be careful,” I tell him seriously. “People catch you smiling like that, it will hurt the whole ‘brooding scowl monster’ vibe you’ve worked so hard on.”

He rolls his eyes. “Duly noted.”

“Anyway. So I was wondering. What’s your schedule like this weekend?”

“This weekend?”

“Yeah . . . See, I was actually coming by to ask you about Betty’s retirement party Friday night.”

He cocks his head. “Betty?”

“One of the nurses in obstetrics,” I tell him. “She’s retiring. She’s been here forever. She delivered Tim Allen.”

“Tim Allen?”

“He was born here.”

“Really?”

“Dude. We have like one famous person. Well, unless you count Dog the Bounty Hunter. Which I do. How did you not know this?”

“I guess Denver trivia isn’t my forte.”

“A resident genius, but doesn’t know about Tim Allen,” I tut. “It’ll be the first story Betty tells you.”

“I’m not sure I’ve actually met Betty.”

“Well, at least we know she’s not one of the nurses who you’ve maimed.”

He rolls his eyes. “Hilarious.”

“I know it’s probably not your thing, but you know, since we’re all ‘mated’ now . . . I thought it might be weird if we didn’t go together.”

“And you’re set on going, I take it.”

“I do tend to make a habit of socializing,” I tell him seriously. “I know. It’s a horrible habit.”

To my surprise, Noah smiles again. Well, sort of. It’s more of a slight tilt of his lips, but I’m learning that’s about as good as I can expect.

“Horrible,” he echoes.

“I don’t want to force you, though, if it’s going to be a complete nightmare for you. I can totally make something up about you being busy or something.”

“No, I . . .” He frowns, thinking. “I can go.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Did you not want me to?”

“No, no.” I shake my head. “I guess I’d just assumed there’s no way you would want to.”

“Like you said,” he reasons, “I’m sure people will expect it.”

“Right.” I can’t say why, but for some reason, his answer makes me feel some distant cousin of irritation, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. “I guess it’s a date then.”

He’s the one to look surprised now.

“Just kidding,” I quickly correct.

He nods slowly. “Right.”

“To be clear, though, literally everyone is going to be grilling us.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, we are hot gossip number one. My friend Priya is practically foaming at the mouth.”

He grimaces. “Should I be worried?”

“I think we can handle it,” I assure him. “We just have to pretend like we’re a deliriously happy couple, right?”

“Right,” he confirms.

“Oh. Also, we need to be thinking of a story about how we met.”

“How we met?”

He’s still frowning at me like he’s trying to figure something out. Or maybe that’s just his face. Actually, that’s plausible.

“Apparently, it’s a hot topic that keeps coming up. I managed to dodge the question today, but Priya is not one to let things go.”

“Does it need to be overly sensational?”

“That depends,” I say seriously. “How opposed are you to the idea that you wrote me highly emotional poetry?”

His expression isn’t the least bit amused.

“Fine, fine,” I laugh. “It can be simple. I mean, we can stick mostly to the facts, really. We met at work. We could even stick to the simple truth to begin with. That we met when I came to your office for a consult question. Then we start adding the murky bits about hitting it off and falling in love and whatnot.”

“I’m surprised you remember how we met,” he says.

“You asked me why a resident was bringing you a consult.”

“I did?”

“You don’t forget someone saying you look ‘barely old enough to tie a suture,’ ” I answer, surprising myself by laughing.

“Wow.” He shakes his head. “I really am an asshole, aren’t I?”

“I used to think so, but . . .” Weirdly, I’m still smiling. “I’m starting to think it’s just part of your charm.”

“Charm,” he echoes.

“I’m surprised too,” I tease.

His grin is still slight, like most of the time he graces me with a smile, but it really is starting to grow on me. Honestly, it sort of works for him. I like how every smile or laugh from Noah feels earned. I wonder absently if there is a possibility that I’m the first person he works with to ever see him smile. It’s a mildly satisfying idea.

“Anyway, I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to check in and see what you thought about the party.”

“I’ll try my best not to embarrass you,” he deadpans.

I laugh again, knowing that he’s most likely only half joking. “Cool. So I guess I’ll let you—”

“My scent has faded,” he says suddenly.

I go still, one hand on the arm of the chair as I freeze in a position between standing and sitting. “What?”

He blinks, looking as surprised by his sudden outburst as I am. “Sorry. I just . . . I can’t smell it as much anymore. Hardly at all.”

“Oh.” Is this what he’s been brooding over? I press my nose to my coat, inhaling. “I guess you’re right. I hadn’t even noticed.”

“I should . . . I mean, it wouldn’t make sense for it to fade if we were supposedly living together and sharing a bed.”

Now, why does that make me flush? He didn’t say anything about sex, just sharing a mattress. There’s no reason to get flustered. I blame Priya and all her talk about knots. Since my brain apparently now goes straight from Noah to bed to knots when given the opportunity.

“That . . . makes sense.”

Noah scratches at the back of his neck, looking out of sorts, finally clearing his throat as he rises from his desk chair. “Okay. So I’ll just . . .”

I don’t remember going to a complete standing position, and I notice my pulse has picked up a few dozen beats in anticipation. I reason that it is nothing more than a biological response, some hormonal nonsense that I have no control over. I have to remind myself that this is business, just a necessary thing that we have to do to keep up our ruse.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Yeah, you can.”

I sidestep the desk to try and meet him halfway, wanting to get this over with.

It’s a damned hug, I think. Stop acting like a schoolgirl.

I can see Noah struggling with it, the awkwardness of it all, and I try to ease the tension by holding my arms out and giving him what I hope is an encouraging smile. “Lay it on me, I guess.”

“Right.” Yeah, he still looks entirely too serious for my liking. It makes this weirder. “I’ll just—”

He reaches out like he’s approaching a baby deer, hands cautious of where they are touching as his large frame invades my personal space. I feel his fingers at my waist first, his thumbs skimming across the front pocket of my scrubs as his palms apply a light pressure on either side of me, and the sensation of his hands curling around to find the small of my back makes my breath catch. I hope he didn’t hear it.

“Sorry,” he whispers again. “I’ll be quick.”

I think I nod, but he’s too close for comfort now, his scent clouding my senses as he pulls me to him. I close my eyes when my cheek presses against his chest, the button of his doctor’s coat biting there slightly as I feel his face press into my hair. At first, I think I’m imagining the way one of his hands seems to climb higher on my spine, but when it presses between my shoulder blades as if trying to bring me closer, I have to reevaluate that assessment.

I realize I’m waiting for it, suspended in a state of wanting to hold my breath and breathe in deep as I wait for his skin to touch mine and leave behind a piece of himself. I feel it in a brush of his nose first, the faint sound of him inhaling as the tip of it skims along my throat, and I swallow thickly as my fingers unconsciously curl into the fabric of his coat to steady myself. Which is necessary since my knees are doing that stupid Jell-O thing again.

He’s shaved since the last time he did this, his cheek smooth when it presses warm against my neck, and I could be imagining the way he trembles ever so slightly, but I don’t think so. There’s a sound in his chest like a groan but softer when his throat slides across mine, and again there is that all-over tingle that prickles over my skin in response. It’s both pleasant and uncomfortable, like an itch that needs to be scratched, but I can’t reach.

It’s just your hormones, I tell myself. It doesn’t mean anything.

So why am I breathing so hard when he pulls away? And what’s more, why is he?

It doesn’t help that his scent seems stronger now, and I have to assume this has something to do with him stopping suppressants—but the potency of it almost makes the room spin as I cling to him. There’s a warmth in my stomach and my chest that seems to pulse, and when I try to swallow, I find my throat dry. I close my eyes, thinking this might help me get a grip, but all it does is make all my other senses light up that much more. There is an impulse that is fleeting but strong, one that has me fantasizing about turning up my face and kissing him. Which I know is ridiculous. Not to mention ill-advised.

So why am I wondering what he tastes like all of a sudden?

“Sorry,” he says again. His sudden distance when he pulls away is almost a shock to my system, and I notice his eyes are a darker blue than they were a moment ago. “I didn’t mean to—” His lips press together as he clears his throat. “Sorry.”

I swallow, but it’s still difficult. “You keep saying that.” My voice sounds all wrong. “It’s just part of it, right?”

“Right,” he answers quietly, jaw tensing like he might be grinding his teeth. “Just part of it.”

I turn my face only so I don’t have to look at him anymore, pressing my nose to my shoulder. “I think . . . that’ll do.”

“Yeah.” I can see him nodding from the corner of my eye, slowly, like he’s in a daze. “That should, um, do it.”

I’m not sure when we realize that his hands are still resting gently against my hips, where they settled after he pulled away from me. He draws them back quickly like he’s embarrassed, averting his eyes. Oddly, I almost feel disappointed when he stops touching me.

“Right. Well. I guess I’ll be thinking about that story.”

“Oh.” Our fake origin story is strangely the last thing on my mind at the moment. “Yeah. I’ll be sure to text you later.”

Another tight nod. “Sure.”

Does his scent have to be so nice? It makes it hard to think. It has to be his alpha genes. No wonder he was so religious with his suppressants. If he went around smelling like this, other shifters would either be terrified of him or throwing themselves at him.

I sidestep away from him, putting a bit of well-needed distance between us. “I better hurry up and get out of here,” I say with a nervous laugh. “People catch me smelling this much like you, they’ll think we’ve been making out in your office.”

Noah makes a strange face that makes me regret the joke, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes.

“Have a good night, Mackenzie,” he tells me, his voice sounding thicker than it did a minute ago.

“You too.” I try for a smile. “See you tomorrow.”

I escape before I have the chance to do anything stupid, a good number of hormone-driven suggestions flitting through my brain that are not only ludicrous but also completely unwarranted. The air outside Noah’s office is considerably less . . . Noah, and breathing it in offers a tiny bit of clarity from the urges his scent brings, ones that I know have nothing to do with us and everything to do with biology.

It’s just your hormones.

I repeat this to myself at least a dozen times on the way to my car, but that doesn’t make me think about it any less.