Page 15 of Freeing My Alpha

Noah’s eyebrows flinch when I say Steven’s name. “I still think my questions could be extremely triggering.”

I clear my throat, dropping my eyes to my hands. I’m tempted to pick at my nails. “Are you talking about the break-in?”

Noah rapidly shakes his head, but this time his water-flinging doesn’t make me laugh. His stare clings to the bathroom tile, avoiding my face. “No, not about any particular acute trauma. I don’t want you to relive that moment unless you have to.”

The sharp silence between us makes my heart race. Somehow, I’m touched.

I’m also relieved; I don’t really want Noah thinking too much about the exact details of the break-in. He probably wants to hear them, at least once, and I know his thoughts aren’t in my control. But for now, the thought of anyone I know imagining me in that state makes me feel weak all over again.

I’d never call another person in my shoes “weak,” but this was Steven’s goal. He knew I felt like an exception, and he exploited it. To his credit, he was an excellent manipulator of my brain. I still find little pieces of his teachings in the background of my thoughts.

Recounting every detail from that day makes me feel like raw meat, baring my sore spots for someone to chew off a devastating chunk of me. I don’t trust people anymore.

Then I met Noah. Over the past three months, I’ve bared my soul to him more than anyone I’ve ever met.

Everything has changed. Maybe my judgments about my “weaknesses” can continue to change too.

As my mate anxiously runs his hands up my sides, I relax into his chest.

“I trust you,” I whisper. “I know I haven’t told you everything about what he did to me that day, but I want to. Someday soon.”

Noah drops his forehead against my shoulder, wrapping his arms around me. His breath is sharp but quiet, flexing his built chest against my back.

After a minute-long hug, Noah’s deep voice rumbles even quieter against my shoulder blades. “Basically, I’ve been thinking a lot about us having kids.”

My heart flips. That wasn’t what I was expecting to hear.

I open my mouth to speak, but I’m too shocked at what’s dying to come out on instinct: me too. All day, every day.

But Noah trudges on, picking up speed. “Ever since you told me you felt like you’re being watched, it hurts to think about. I know it’s a PTSD thing for you, and all these asshole Alpha cultists aren’t helping, but it’s also because you don’t know where he is. I don’t want you to have to feel like you have to watch your back for the rest of your life, not in Greenfield. Not in your own fucking home. Especially not while you’re pregnant, or while you’re taking care of our kids. That’s not fair to you at all, not when I might be able to do something about it.”

I bite my lip. My eyes are already watering, partly from Noah’s agitated Alpha musk, but mainly from how startling it still is to experience Noah’s compassion while I’m recalling Steven’s heartlessness.

“Noah, I don’t want you to have to—”

“No, not ‘have’ to.” He breathes hard against my back, shaking his head. “I can’t stand that no one fucking listened to you. I want to be that authority figure in your community who listens. The one who believes you.”

I bite my lips, no longer able to stifle tears. Dropping my head, my shoulders shake as my expression warps.

Noah’s head pops up. His balled-up hands in my lap soften to caress my abdomen. “Fuck, I’m sorry...”

“No,” I suck back tears, smiling. “Thank you.”

Cupping Noah’s cheeks, I drop my forehead against his. We close our eyes, breathing through the humming emotional overwhelm in our bond.

But the longer we sit in silence, the more my heart aches too much to ignore. When I open my eyes, Noah’s are already open.

He tucks my damp hair over my shoulder, replacing its wet chill with his overheated palm on my neck. “What are you thinking?”

My eyelids flutter at his gentle, sweet brushing on my mark—the scar he left on my sensitive scent gland to symbolize our bonded souls. A loving wash of his concern warms my heart through our shared emotions, but it also makes my chest ache worse.

This beautiful soul staring back has suffered immensely too. Fear spikes our bond around triggers I’m slowly noticing over time, but mainly when he’s not home with me. I know he hides them, and I don’t think it’s solely because he’s afraid to show his pain.

I think no one believed or protected Noah either. The thought scalds my heart.

Of course he’s guarded. Why wouldn’t he be? When no one else shows you they’re safe, you do everything you can to survive—alone.

I sort Noah’s hair, biting back tears. “It’s just— What about you? Aren’t you still going to be uncomfortable that whoever hurt you just as badly is still out there too?”

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