Page 96 of Omega's Formula

“Thank you for inviting me.”

She looks between me and Nolan, something knowing in her eyes. “You two should probably talk properly now. Without me around to interrupt.”

Nolan makes a sound that might be protest, but Ellie waves him off.

“I’m serious. Go. Work it out. I’ll be fine—I have terrible hospital TV and a call button. What more could I need?” She winks at me and shuts the door in our faces.

We stand in the hospital corridor, suddenly alone.

“She’s not subtle,” Nolan says.

“No. She’s not.”

Silence stretches between us. Outside, visible through the windows, the early winter darkness is already falling, streetlights flickering to life.

“The apartment is nearby,” I say slowly. “We could—if you want to talk. Really talk.”

“I’d like that.”

The walk takes three minutes. Three minutes of silence, of our breath visible in the cold air, of our shoulders almost brushing as we navigate the narrow sidewalk. I’m hyperaware of his presence beside me, his scent cutting through the winter chill.

It feels weird coming back here with him but somehow so natural at the same time. I push the door open and head to the tiny kitchen.

“Do you want coffee. I think there’s decaf or—”

I turn to face him and whatever I was going to say dies in my throat.

He’s standing in the middle of the living room, coat still on, scarf unwound and hanging loose around his neck. The light catches his face, his eyes, the soft swell of his stomach.

He’s looking at me like I’m something he’s been starving for.

“Nolan—”

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, his voice rough. “For months. About what Ellie told me. About what you said—what you did. The press release, the money, all of it.”

“I meant every word. I—”

“I know.” He takes a step toward me. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about. That you meant it. That you—” He stops, swallows. “All this time, I’ve been so angry. I had every right to be angry. You believed I was a liar. You treated me like I was worthless.”

“I know. And I’m—”

“Let me finish.” Another step. We’re close now. Close enough that I can see the pulse jumping in his throat, the flush spreading across his cheekbones. “I was angry, and I was hurt, and I told myself I would never forgive you. That what we had during my heat was just chemistry, just the prime match making us feel things that weren’t real.”

I can barely breathe. “And now?”

“Now I’m standing here looking at you—” His voice breaks. “And all I can think about is how much I’ve missed you. How much I want—”

I don’t let him finish.

I close the distance between us in one stride, my hands coming up to cup his face, and I kiss him.

The kiss is hunger. It is need. It’s months of wanting compressed into a single point of contact.

Nolan makes a sound against my mouth—half gasp, half moan—and then he’s kissing me back with equal desperation. His hands fist in my coat, pulling me closer, and I go willingly. I’d go anywhere he wanted me.

“Erik—” He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath hot against my lips. “We should—talk—”

“Later.” I kiss him again, softer this time. “Unless you want to stop.”