Page 11 of The Alpha’s Runaway Mate (Evermore Hollow #1)

NINE

JESSICA

Kolt’s the first to break the lull, leaning back in the booth with a grin that’s way too smug to be innocent. “Go on, man. You’ve got that look. We’ll hold down the fort.”

Across from him, Xander nabs a fry and points it at Nolan like a dagger. “Yeah, Alpha. Go play house or whatever it is you do when you’re not terrifying customers.”

Nolan glares at them, but it’s the kind of glare that says I’ll kill you later and thanks for covering for me all at once. “You sure?”

Kolt waves him off. “Positive. We’ll close up. Try not to growl at anyone on your way out, especially her.”

He jerks his chin toward me, and I can’t help the quiet laugh that slips out. Nolan shoots me a sideways look, half warning, half soft, and it’s ridiculous how much that one glance makes my pulse trip.

I slide out of the booth when he stands, his hand finding the small of my back like it’s supposed to be there. Kolt winks at me as we pass, and I swear the man lives to cause trouble.

Nolan’s jaw twitches, but his eyes flick to me, softening almost instantly. “Come on, Sweetheart,” he says.

It’s not a command. It’s quieter than that, an invitation that makes my pulse trip. I let him pull me closer, close enough that the heat of him settles along my side as we start toward the door.

Every head turns as we move through the bar, the noise dipping like the whole place took one collective breath. Whispers rise, soft and sharp, but Nolan doesn’t slow. He moves through them like he owns the air itself. And somehow, with him guiding me, I stop caring who’s watching.

The door’s just a few steps away when a woman steps right into our path, smooth as a cat that knows it’s beautiful. Dark hair perfect, lipstick darker than her smile. She looks me up and down once, slow, deliberate, and the temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees.

I freeze, instincts prickling. I can feel the hostility coming off her like static. She doesn’t say anything at first, just lays a manicured hand on Nolan’s arm, her voice sugar and venom when she finally speaks. “Leaving already?”

The sound of her tone makes my stomach twist. It’s possessive. Familiar. I don’t need to know the history to understand exactly what she’s implying.

Nolan’s whole body goes still. Then his voice, low and lethal: “I’ve already warned you Rhea.”

Rhea blinks, startled, but the shock fades fast. Her painted mouth curves into something mean. “Really?” she purrs. “You’re claiming her? You must be desperate, Alpha. She looks breakable. Soft. The kind of thing that cries when you raise your voice.”

The growl that rips out of him isn’t human. The entire bar goes silent. Every head turns toward us.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Nolan snarls, every syllable vibrating through the air. “That’s my mate you’re insulting.”

Rhea’s laugh is brittle, the sound of someone trying to make herself big when she’s already lost. “Your mate?” she spits, too loud, too sharp. “You’ve lost your mind. She doesn’t belong here. She’ll run the first time she sees what you really are.”

“I haven’t run yet,” I say, my spine straightening, voice steady. I meet her gaze head-on.

Rhea’s smile falters. For half a second, the color drains from her face before she pastes it back on, too bright, too fake.

“You’re making a mistake,” she snaps, desperation leaking through the cracks.

“You think she’s going to survive you? Or the pack?

You think anyone’s going to respect that?

” She jerks her chin toward me like the word itself is dirty.

Nolan takes a single step forward. The air hums, thick with warning. “Careful, Rhea.” His tone drops so low it’s almost a growl. “You’re an inch from banishment, and I’m in no mood to show mercy tonight.”

She swallows hard, but pride keeps her talking. “You can’t be serious. Her? A human? You’d throw away everything for that?”

“I’d throw you out first,” he says simply.

Rhea freezes, then forces out a laugh that doesn’t quite make it past her throat. “We’ll see how long that lasts,” she mutters, her voice dripping like poison.

“That’s it. You’re fucking gone,” Nolan snaps, and the words land like a blade. He squares to her, cold and flat. “I better not see you in my territory again or I’ll kill you.”

The bar exhales all at once. Rhea goes pale, then angry, then small in the space of a breath. She backs away, spine forced straight, lips pressed into a line that says she’s pretending not to be scared. She glances at me like she’s trying to find a crack I don’t have. There isn’t one.

Nolan doesn’t wait for her to leave. His hand finds the small of my back, firm and steady, and he guides me through the door while the place hums with the aftermath of his warning. Outside, the night air hits like a promise and a dare at once. Cool. Clean. Too quiet.

I pull my jacket tighter and the words Rhea spat slip back through my head, sticky and loud: You’d risk everything for a girl who doesn’t belong here. She’ll run the first time she sees what you really are. You’re making a mistake.

He doesn’t act like it’s a risk. He acts like it’s a fact. That unsettles me more than the threat did. Because in his world, throwing everything away for someone might mean something different. For him it might be simple. For me it feels huge. Dangerous. Stupid.

“You said it like it was a fact,” I say, my voice smaller than I want it to be. The words hang between us, catching in the space lit by the lodge lights.

He stops, just long enough to make me look at him. Nolan’s face is calm, too calm, but his eyes are steady, grounding. “It is,” he says. “You felt it.”

I want to believe him. I want to flip this moment, to claim him right back, to stop bracing for heartbreak like it’s a reflex I can’t shake. But she was right about one thing: I don’t know these rules. I don’t know what it costs him. I don’t know what it costs me.

“What if I can’t… handle it?” The words scrape out before I can stop them. “What if I’m the thing that makes you lose everything?” My throat tightens. “I’ve been on the other end of words like hers before. They didn’t kill me, but they left marks I still feel.”

He closes the distance, his palms settling on my shoulders, steady, warm, unyielding. “You’re not going to break me, Jessica,” he says, voice low but sure. “And I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine.”

The claim hits like a weight and a promise all at once. It should settle me. It doesn’t. It opens something thin and shaking in my chest. I want to lean into him and never move. I also want to run until the woods blur and I forget this feeling.

He sees it, of course he does. He always sees it. Nolan gives a small, impatient laugh, one that softens and steadies him in the same breath. “Think about it,” he says. “I didn’t choose you to lose something. I chose you because you’re mine. End of story.”

Maybe for him, it really is that simple. But I’m the one who’s been sleeping in a tent, learning that safety is fragile and fleeting. The bond hums under my skin, real, constant, but fear still tastes like iron on my tongue.

My truck sits a few spaces away, coated in a thin layer of dust, like it already knows it doesn’t belong here. I stop beside it, chewing my lip. Nolan’s truck is parked just ahead, dark and gleaming under the lamplight.

He notices my hesitation immediately. “What?”

I glance between the two vehicles. “I just… I don’t know. Should I take mine?”

His gaze follows mine, then drops back to my face. “Leave it,” he says simply. “We’ll grab it tomorrow.”

I hesitate, torn. My truck’s been my whole life for months, my only safe place, my way out. But the way he says it, like it’s already decided, makes something in me unclench.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He nods once and guides me toward his truck, his hand settling at the small of my back. The contact is casual, but my body doesn’t get the memo. Every nerve lights up.

He opens the door and helps me inside, his fingers brushing my hip as I climb up. The scent of him fills the cab before he even joins me, pine, smoke, and something distinctly him. When he gets behind the wheel, he glances over, his voice low. “You good?”

I nod, even though I’m not sure what good even means anymore.

The road winds through dark trees, the headlights catching flashes of pine needles and rock. It’s quiet except for the low hum of the engine. The silence should feel heavy, but it doesn’t, it’s steady, comfortable, like the world has finally stopped chasing me for once.

When the truck turns down the long gravel drive and the cabin comes into view, my breath catches.

The place looks different now, alive under the soft gold of the porch lights. The wraparound porch glows like something out of a dream, smoke curling lazily from the chimney. I can’t stop staring.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

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.”