Page 18 of Noah

But my mind was elsewhere. On one particular wolf. Noah.

His scent lingered in my senses, warm and familiar, a comforting tether that pulled my thoughts away from the meeting.

It wasn’t just the way he smelled, though—that earthy, calming scent that felt like home. It was everything about him.

The way his green eyes lit up when he smiled, the softness in his voice, the way he didn’t seem to mind when I ruffled his hair. That easy, boyish grin had always undone me.

My wolf stirred restlessly, the memories only fueling the yearning that had been quietly building since I first laid eyes on him again.

It had been years—too many years—since we’d last seen each other.

Back then, we were just boys, our lives stretching out before us with endless possibilities. But responsibilities had a way of stealing time.

My duties to my pack, the weight of expectations—it had all consumed me.

And in the midst of it, I’d let time slip away. I hadn’t reached out. I hadn’t followed up on the connection that had sparked between us all those years ago.

Not because I didn’t care, but because I had convinced myself that I couldn’t afford distractions.

The pack needed me. My family needed me. And so, I’d buried those feelings, chalking them up to youthful infatuation, a fleeting fancy that would fade with time.

But it hadn’t faded. If anything, seeing Noah again now, it felt like no time had passed at all.

My wolf’s desire was difficult to suppress, a primal need to be near him, to touch him, to claim him as mine.

I struggled to reign in those instincts, urging myself to calm down, to focus on the pressing matters at hand. This summit was important.

Our packs were on the verge of conflict, and the stakes were high.

I needed to be present, sharp, vigilant.

Yet, Noah’s presence was a distraction I couldn’t shake. I remembered how he used to look at me, with a mix of admiration and something more.

Regret gnawed at me. I should have reached out. I should have found a way to keep in touch, to bridge the distance that had grown between us.

But I hadn’t, and now, standing on the precipice of something new, I wondered if it was too late to fix that. Could I rebuild what had been left to fade?

Could I rekindle the warmth that had once been so effortless between us?

My heart ached with the possibility, the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance. Noah’s smile was still the same, still warm, still inviting.

If I could just get through this summit, if I could navigate the treacherous waters of pack politics and come out the other side, maybe then I could find a way to set things right.

To tell Noah what I hadn’t had the courage to say back then.

Beside me, Hudson sat rigid, his energy barely contained. His fingers tapped impatiently against the table, his jaw tight.

I knew the mistake Cooper had made the other day still irked him—when Cooper shook my hand and mistook me for the next alpha in line.

It had been an honest mistake, but Hudson didn’t take it kindly.

I could feel the weight of my brother’s simmering frustration.

But for now, I had to focus. I had to ensure that this summit didn’t end in chaos. I had to protect my pack, and in doing so, protect Noah and his.

If I could do that, maybe there would be time later to explore what still lingered between us. Maybe there was a way to make up for lost time, to reignite the flame that had never truly gone out.

“Here, here,” a familiar mocking voice called out from the opposite end of the table, pulling me out of my thoughts.

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