Page 8 of The Alpha’s Runaway Mate (Evermore Hollow #1)

The second I step inside, I stop and just…

stare. It’s massive. Slate-gray tile, dark wood cabinets, and a shower big enough to fit four people.

There’s a deep soaking tub tucked under a window that looks out into the trees, steam already fogging the glass from where I turn the water on as hot as it’ll go.

When I finally step under the spray, the first hit of heat nearly steals my breath.

I lean into it, eyes closing as the water pounds on my head, over my shoulders, and down my back.

The dirt and exhaustion of the past few months slide down the drain, and I just stand there, letting the water cascade over me until the mirror’s fogged, my fingers pruned, and my thoughts finally quiet.

I wash slowly, hair, skin, everything, taking my time like I’m relearning what it means to care about myself. When I finally shut the water off, the air feels cool against my skin, goosebumps rising as I reach for the towel.

That’s when I notice it. My clothes aren’t where I left them. Well, most of them. My panties are still there, thank God, but the rest? Gone. In their place sits a huge, soft white T-shirt that unmistakably smells like Nolan.

I stare at it, half-laughing, half-ready to scream. “That cheeky bastard,” I mutter under my breath. “He stole my clothes.”

Rolling my eyes, I dry off and pull the shirt on anyway. It hangs off one shoulder, way too big, soft from years of wear. It smells like pine and smoke and something else, something wild that makes my pulse trip.

I brush my hair out, trying to convince myself this is fine. Totally normal. Nothing weird about wearing your maybe-sort-of-mate’s shirt after he kidnapped you from your campsite and made you shower in his luxury mountain-man bathroom.

Totally. Fine.

When I push the door open, steam curls out into the bedroom where Nolan’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, nothing on but his jeans.

The light from the fireplace throws gold over his skin, every muscle cut in shadow and heat.

He looks up when he hears me, and for a second, neither of us moves.

His gaze drags over me, bare legs, damp hair, his T-shirt swallowing my frame. His expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes darkens, sharpens.

“You stole my clothes,” I say, clutching the edge of the shirt like that’ll help.

His mouth curves, slow and dangerous. “Didn’t want you putting on something cold and dirty after that shower.”

“That’s not the point,” I argue weakly.

“It’s exactly the point,” he says, voice rough. “You needed to be clean. You needed to be comfortable.” His gaze dips once more, slow and unhurried. “And damn, you look… comfortable.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he says, leaning back on his hands, eyes still locked on me. “But you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

The bond hums louder now, vibrating under my skin like a live current. He’s close enough that I can feel it pulling at me, whispering that if I just take one step forward, the world will stop spinning so fast.

I don’t move. Neither does he.The space between us feels heavy, thick with everything we’re both pretending not to want.

His eyes stay on me, unreadable but intense.

The firelight flickers over his bare chest, catching the edges of the ink curling up his arms, the muscles in his shoulders tightening as if he’s holding himself still by sheer willpower.

“Come here, Jessica.” The words are low, rough, but not a command, more like a pull, a gravity I can feel in my bones.

My breath stutters. Every instinct in me wants to move toward him, wants to sink into that heat and let it swallow me whole. But the part of me that’s been running, that’s survived on keeping my distance hesitates.

I take one small step. Then another. His eyes darken, his jaw flexing as I cross the space between us. By the time I reach him, my pulse is hammering so hard I swear he can hear it.

Nolan lifts a hand, slow and deliberate, giving me every chance to stop him. His palm comes to rest at my hip, fingers splaying lightly over the fabric of his shirt against my skin. The heat of him seeps straight through the cotton.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. “Right here.”

I’m standing between his knees, the bond a live wire humming louder than my thoughts. His thumb strokes once over my hip, and his gaze lifts to mine.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he asks softly. “The pull. The bond.”

I nod, unable to lie. “I don’t understand it…”

“You don’t have to yet.” His voice drops even lower, gravel and velvet. “All you need to know is you’re safe with me. Always.”

He brushes a damp strand of hair from my cheek, his knuckles warm against my skin. “I’ll keep my hands to myself if you need me to,” he murmurs. “But don’t ever doubt that I’ll protect you.”

The room feels smaller, the air thicker. My heart pounds in time with his, the bond pulling, tugging, whispering.

Nolan’s thumb tilts my chin up just enough for our eyes to lock. “Good girl,” he whispers, the words sliding over my skin like heat. “Now breathe.”

I draw in a shaky breath, his scent filling my lungs, his presence wrapping around me.

Every inch of me is aware of him, his warmth, his strength, his restraint.

I’m still trying to breathe when his hand slides from my hip to my waist, guiding me forward with a patience that feels deliberate, practiced.

I think he’s going to stop there, keep that tiny, safe bit of space between us, but then he exhales, low and rough, and tugs me closer.

Before I know it, I’m straddling his lap. My knees sink into the mattress on either side of him, my hands braced on his shoulders for balance. His body is all heat and muscle beneath me, and the moment we touch, the bond flares, bright, hot, alive.

Nolan’s breath shudders against my throat. His hands stay steady on my hips, fingers pressing in just enough to make my pulse skip. His eyes meet mine, blue and fierce in the glow of the fire.

“See?” he murmurs. “This. This is what happens when you fight it. The bond doesn’t like distance.”

I can barely think past the pounding in my chest. “And if I stop fighting it?”

His jaw tightens, and for a second, I see the beast under his skin, the one that prowls behind those eyes. “Then I’ll have to work twice as hard not to lose control.” He says it like a warning, but it feels like a promise.

I swallow hard, my hands curling against his shoulders. “You said you’d keep your hands to yourself,” I whisper, my voice unsteady.

“I am.” His mouth curves, slow and dangerous.

“You’re the one sitting in my lap, Jessica.

” The way he says my name, low, reverent, claiming, makes something inside me melt.

The air between us hums. His heartbeat pounds against mine, steady, grounding.

He studies me like he’s memorizing every line of my face, every breath I take.

“You need rest,” he says finally, though his voice sounds like it’s betraying him. “You’ve been running too long.”

I nod, even though I don’t move. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

“Then stay here,” he says softly. “Let me hold you. No running. No pretending.”

For once, I don’t argue. I lean in, and he catches me easily, one arm wrapping around my waist, the other sliding up my back. The tension bleeds out of me all at once. My head finds his shoulder, my heartbeat slowing as the world settles into something quiet, steady, safe.

Nolan exhales against my hair. His hand moves in slow circles between my shoulder blades, grounding me. “Tomorrow,” he says quietly, “we’ll talk about what’s next. But today, you rest.”

My stomach growls before I even realize I’m hungry. The sound fills the quiet room, followed by another deeper one, a low rumble from Nolan that makes my pulse skip.

His eyes narrow. “When’s the last time you ate?”

I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t know. Yesterday? Maybe the day before.”

His jaw tightens, that dangerous quiet rolling through him again. “Jessica.” My name comes out like a warning, rough and edged with concern.

“It’s fine,” I say quickly, even though it’s clearly not. “I wasn’t exactly doing five-course meals at my campsite.”

He mutters something under his breath I don’t catch, then stands with me in his arms moving with that deliberate, quiet strength that makes everything around him feel smaller. Before I can protest, he’s got his hands on my waist, guiding me back against the pillows.

“What are you doing?” I ask, heart still fluttering from earlier.

“Putting you to bed,” he says simply, tucking the blanket over me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His tone brooks no argument.

“I don’t need to be put to bed,” I mumble, but my body betrays me, the second I sink into the warmth of the comforter, exhaustion hits like a tidal wave.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just studies me with that unreadable expression, then grabs the TV remote from the nightstand and sets it in my hand. “Here.”

“Where are you going?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he glances toward the door. “Anything you don’t eat?”

The question catches me off guard. “Uh… no. I’m not picky.”

He nods once, satisfied, and heads for the door. His voice drifts back, calm but commanding. “Stay put, Jessica.”

I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth lifts anyway. “Yes, Alpha.”

His answering growl from the hallway is low and amused. “You have no idea what that word means.”

The sound fades as he disappears down the stairs.

The house is quiet except for the faint crackle of the fire.

I shift deeper under the blankets, the scent of him wrapping around me.

The bed’s too soft, too big, too… him, but sleep finds me before I can fight it.

When I wake again, sunlight has shifted through the window, spilling gold across the room.

My body feels weightless for the first time in months.

For a second, I forget where I am, until I smell it. Bacon. And pancakes.

My eyes blink open just in time to see Nolan walking back into the room, shirtless, carrying a tray like some kind of grumpy, tattooed breakfast saint.

He sets it carefully on the nightstand and looks down at me, his expression unreadable but his eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them.

“You needed food,” he says simply, as if it’s an explanation for everything.

I push myself up, rubbing at my eyes. “You made all this?”

“Yeah.” His mouth quirks slightly. “Don’t look so shocked. I can cook.”

I glance at the tray, pancakes stacked high, scrambled eggs, bacon perfectly crisp, a glass of orange juice catching the morning light. My throat tightens unexpectedly. No one’s made me breakfast in… years.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He nods once, watching me with that same steady, quiet focus that always makes me feel like he’s seeing straight through me.

“Eat,” he says, voice gentler now. Then he steps back, giving me space but is never quite out of reach.

It hits me fast, this is what safety feels like, fierce, unexpected, and laced with danger.

The food doesn’t last long. I don’t even try to pretend I have manners, I demolish half the plate in silence while Nolan leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me like he’s making sure I don’t disappear.

Every now and then, his gaze softens. When I glance up, he looks away, pretending he’s studying the wall instead of me.

It’s kind of adorable in a broody, dangerous way.

When I finally finish, my stomach is warm and full for the first time in months. Nolan takes the empty tray from my hands, setting it aside on the nightstand. “Better?” he asks, voice rough but quieter now.

“Yeah,” I say around a sleepy yawn. “A lot better.”

“Good.” His tone drops, that rumble in it again. “You needed that.”

The exhaustion hits all at once, a slow, heavy pull that makes my limbs go weak. I try to push up, but his hand lands gently on my shoulder, easing me back against the pillows.

“Rest,” he murmurs. “You’re safe here.”

Safe. The word feels foreign and comforting all at once.

He doesn’t move away. Instead, he sits down beside me, one arm stretching along the back of the bed.

I shift without thinking, leaning into him until my head finds his chest. His skin is warm and solid, his heartbeat steady under my cheek.

I should move. I should say something. But the bond hums softly between us, wrapping me in that strange calm I can’t fight.

My eyes drift closed. His hand comes up, brushing over my hair once, slow and careful, before settling around me. The world fades. The last thing I feel before sleep takes me is the rise and fall of his chest and the soft, steady rhythm of his heart under my ear.