Page 25 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
He parks and cuts the engine. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “It is.”
Inside, the air is cool and still. The fire pit in the living room is dark, the hearth cold. Nolan moves past me without a word, kneeling to stack logs and strike a match. The flames catch fast, crackling to life, and within seconds the room glows amber and gold.
I can’t stop watching him, the easy strength in his movements, the way the light plays against his jaw and the curve of his shoulders.
“Want a drink?” he asks, glancing at me over his shoulder.
“What’ve you got?”
“Beer, whiskey, water… hot chocolate if you’re lucky.”
I smile a little. “Hot chocolate.”
He raises a brow like he wasn’t expecting that answer, then disappears into the kitchen. A minute later, he comes back with a steaming mug and hands it to me. “Careful,” he warns. “It’s nuclear.”
“You say that like you’ve tested it,” I tease, curling both hands around the mug.
“I have,” he says with a small grin, settling beside me on the couch. “Wasn’t one of my brighter moments.”
I snort into my drink. “You? I thought you were all instincts and control.”
“I was a kid once,” he says, leaning back, one arm stretched along the back of the couch behind me. “Did a lot of dumb things trying to prove I was fearless.”
I take a slow sip, letting the warmth slide down my throat. “Guess it worked out. You turned into a fearless bear-man who runs a supernatural bar.”
“‘Fearless’ is generous,” he says. “Mostly I just got good at hiding when I’m not.”
The way he says it, quiet, honest, pulls at something in me. There’s no performance in Nolan. No pretending. Just truth, raw and unpolished. It makes me want to match it.
He watches me for a beat, then says, “Tell me something real about you.”
I blink. “Something real?”
He nods, expression unreadable but soft around the edges. “Yeah. Not favorite colors or coffee orders. Something that matters.”
I look down into my mug, watching the surface ripple. “When I was little, my dad used to take me to summer carnivals,” I say slowly. “He’d buy me cotton candy and put me on his shoulders so I could see everything. He used to call me his firefly because I never stopped moving.”
A smile ghosts over my lips. “After he died, I stopped glowing. I guess I didn’t want to stand out anymore. It hurt too much.”
The silence stretches, but it’s not empty. He reaches out, his hand covering mine where it’s gripping the mug too tight. “You didn’t stop glowing,” he says, voice low and rough. “You just needed someone who could see it again.”
My throat tightens. “That’s smooth, Alpha.”
His mouth curves, the faintest grin. “Wasn’t trying to be.”
“Sure you weren’t.” I smile back anyway, because fighting it feels pointless. “Okay, your turn. Something real.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t think I’d ever find my mate.”
“Because you didn’t want one?”
“Because I didn’t think I deserved one.” He looks into the fire as he talks. “Being Alpha means you carry everything. Every mistake, every loss, every life that gets caught in the crossfire. After a while, you start to believe that maybe the universe is done giving you good things.”
I watch him quietly, heart twisting. “Maybe the universe was just waiting until you were ready not to ruin it.”
His gaze lifts to mine, and something flickers there, surprise, maybe. Gratitude. “You talk like you believe in fate.”
I shrug. “Didn’t. Then I met a guy who turned into a bear.”
