Page 24 of My Shy Alpha

“Noah! Do not mark her!” Amy shouts, startling us.

Noah pulls back, his chest heaving. “Shit, I... I even took five rut suppressants.”

Amy gasps. “Five?! Alpha, are you trying to die? What the hell are we going to do without you?”

Noah groans, scrubbing his forehead. “They weren’t working! I feel like such an out-of-control asshole.”

Amy’s tone softens, but she ravenously chews her nails like she always does when she’s anxious. “You’re not an asshole. You just met your mate, and now her pheromones are exploding, begging you to mate with her. It’s a lot, even for me as a Beta. Will you be okay while I go help my Alpha?”

Noah sighs, tracing his thoughts as his eyes roam my parents’ flowery couch. “Yes... Yes, I’ll be fine.”

“Do we have to stop?” I ask.

I hadn’t noticed I started crying again until I heard my shaking voice.

Noah’s irritation dissipates the second we meet eyes. “No, I’m going to help you feel better. I’m not leaving your side again.” He kisses my cheek, and I whimper for more. “But first, you’re going to eat something. Do you want me to carry you to bed?”

“Yes. Please.”

Noah reaches for the brown paper grocery bag he dropped with one hand, lifting me with the other.

“Use a condom!” Amy calls after us.

Noah glowers. “Thanks for the sex ed.”

Amy laughs. “I’ll come back to check if you did, Alpha! Tell your wolf that!”

I cling to him as he carries me down the hall to my bedroom, my entire body shaking. As Noah eases me onto my unmade bed, it kills me to let go of him.

Until he drops his grocery bag, fetching a colossal chocolate donut out of a second, smaller paper bag. The donut is almost as big as my head, dripping beautiful, sugary rainbow sprinkles everywhere.

Before Noah sets the donut onto a napkin, I throw myself across the bed - placing the donut at perfect face height - and chomp off an enormous bite. Sugar erupts into my mouth, enveloping my aching muscles in bliss. Grabbing Noah’s wrist, I slam the rest into my mouth until his empty palm meets my lips.

For the first time ever, I hear Noah’s full belly laugh. It’s soft and airy - a hint of the shy sweetness I keep discovering beneath his stoicism.

“I guess I chose the right heat food.” He grins, showing off gleaming incisors. My stare locks onto them, wanting them to nip my neck while his touch devours the rest of me.

I try to tell him how goddamn incredible his laugh is, but my cheeks are stuffed. “Hmph hm hmph hmph!”

Noah laughs shyly again, draping his comforter around my bare shoulders. For some reason, this infuriates me.

Noah winces. “Fuck. That was a mistake.”

That’s not how that blanket needs to sit!

I want to tell Noah this, but I’m still chewing. I fumble with his blanket like it’s a rogue snake, struggling to figure out how to soothe the irritation in my gut. The feeling is familiar; it’s exactly like a compulsion, but too strong of one to resist - eight out of ten on the SUDS scale. It takes every pillow I own, cramming them in every direction until they’re just right. When I find the perfect combination, I wedge myself beneath the comforter, out of breath.

I swallow the last of the donut.

As I soak up Noah’s sweet smile above me, heat explodes in my core. “You’re beautiful, Noah.”

With flushing cheeks, Noah’s eyes soften into an expression I can’t place - somewhere between happy and sad.

“Why don’t you call me your Omega anymore?” I ask this the second I think of it.

“O-oh, um, I can... M-my sweet Omega.”

Noah’s eyebrows raise even higher as I grip my blankets to my chest, unable to contain my smile.

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