Chapter 115

Noah

Noah hated these stupid fights. He hated them with a burning passion; he had always despised attending them when he was younger, back when his young male friends were obsessed with blood and sweat and testosterone.

What baffled Noah, though, was that Hannah seemed to enjoy it now. She had never once shown any interest in attending fights, and had never even shown an interest in learning to fight herself despite the fact that sparring training was a common practice for Alphas and Lunas who were in good health.

In fact, on more than one occasion, Noah had tried to convince Hannah to try sparring. She always refused, saying that it was brutish and that a ‘delicate’ woman such as herself should never shed blood.

But now, apparently, that had changed.

As the crowd roared and the announcer’s voice boomed across the stadium, as the fighters stepped out into the ring in all their shirtless, muscular glory, Hannah was screaming and cheering along with the rest of them and bouncing on her toes like a giddy kid in a candy shop.

Noah was glad, at least, that they had box seats; a place fit for Alphas and Lunas. Something to set them apart from the creeps who might try to squeeze past Hannah and touch her hips or grope her ass.

Goddess, but she did look hot tonight. Despite his anger and annoyance, Noah couldn’t help but let his eyes occasionally flicker down to her breasts or her thighs.

She was wearing tight jeans and an equally tight, low-cut shirt—so different from her usual prim and proper attire. Her blonde hair was in loose waves over her shoulders, nearly reaching her butt. When had it gotten so long?

And lately, she hadn’t been bleaching her hair as much… The darker strawberry blonde, her natural color, suited her better than the platinum crap.

If only they didn’t hate each other’s guts. Maybe then he would have put his arm around her like so many of the other couples in this place. Maybe he would have pulled her flush against his side, letting his hand roam across her peachy rear end and her round hips.

That, at least, would have made him not despise the entire occasion to his very core.

At the same time, though, Noah couldn’t help but glance over at Drake and grimace.

Drake was standing right beside Hannah, cheering for the fight along with her. He was saying something in her ear, pointing at the two muscular men who were beating each other to a pulp in the middle of the ring.

Every time the bell would ding, it was like Drake would shift a little closer. Soon enough, their shoulders were brushing, and Noah didn’t see Hannah showing any signs of moving away.

“I still think she’s fucking him,” Noah growled inwardly to his wolf as he sipped his beer. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”

His wolf bristled in response. “You’re still on that?”

“Of course I am. All of the signs are pointing to her being pregnant, too… It has to be his kid, because we haven’t had sex in ages.”

It was true; it had been months since they had had sex. And unless Hannah was hiding an heir from him, Noah had an inkling that she was hooking up with Drake in private.

Maybe she even had intentions of leaving Nightcrest to join Drake at his pack. Maybe they already had an heir of their own on the way, even though she and Noah had been married for years and had had sex during her ovulation every month like clockwork and she had never gotten pregnant.

“It’s still possible that she only had food poisoning that night at the restaurant,” his wolf stated—always trying to be the logical one.

Noah pursed his lips. No, it wasn’t just that night at the restaurant that had him wondering; she had been showing signs of it for a while. Avoiding alcohol like the plague, always trying to touch her belly like he wouldn’t notice, suddenly caring about her health.

Her health… She had put on a bit of weight lately, which was a good thing. Noah had been watching her belly in particular, though. If she was pregnant, she hadn’t begun to show yet—but Noah would notice whenever she did.

Unless they got divorced before that happened.

The bell rang loudly, signifying the end of the first fight. Noah snapped his attention back to the group as Drake, Hannah, and Zoe turned to him.

Drake held up his empty beer bottle. “I need a refill,” he said, shaking the bottle slightly. “Anything for the ladies?”

Zoe shrugged. “Another beer for me.”

Drake nodded. “Beer for Zoe, and Hannah, I’m getting you a soft pretzel whether you like it or not. Got it?”

Hannah giggled coyly, causing Noah to bristle. “Sure, I’ll take a pretzel. And a diet soda, too?”

No alcohol for Hannah, of course.

“Come with me, Noah?” Drake asked then. “I might need help carrying stuff.”

Despite the fact that being close to Drake made Noah want to vomit, he begrudgingly agreed. They walked over to the food stands together and Drake put in their order for three beers, a soda, and four soft pretzels.

“So,” Drake said as they waited for their food, “how’s everything going? With you and Hannah, I mean.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “What business is that of yours?” he asked.

Drake shrugged, seemingly unaffected by Noah’s bitterness. “Hannah just seems a bit sad lately, that’s all. And I’d be lying if I said that she didn’t mention you two are having some… issues.”

Noah felt his blood pressure go up at that. Had Hannah really been opening up to Drake, of all people?

“Anyway,” Drake continued, “I just wanted to ask if you’re doing alright. Hannah’s a good woman. Maybe we can talk about it, man to—”

“Like hell.” Noah’s fury got the better of him, and before he knew it, he was curling the front of Drake’s shirt into his fist and pushing him up against the wall. His upper lip curled back to reveal his fangs, and he snarled, “I know you’re trying to fuck my wife, you pig.”

Drake’s eyes widened into saucers. “Noah, what the hell?”

For a moment, the only sounds between them were that of their harsh breathing. Noah tightened his grip on Drake’s shirt, grateful for the chaotic atmosphere that kept others from paying them any mind. Fights outside the ring were commonplace here, after all.

“Look, man,” Drake finally breathed, holding his hands up in surrender, “Hannah is my friend. I’m just trying to help. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well, mind your own business.” Noah grit his teeth, his eyes flashing with hatred. “Don’t try to bullshit me. I know your angle. And I know your reputation.”

There was another long silence, Drake’s Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed hard. Then, finally, his upper lip curled back to reveal a sneer.

“I have no interest in having sex with your wife,” he snarled, leaning closer so that their noses were almost touching. “But I will say, you make her feel so lonely that it would probably be pretty easy if I wanted to.”

Noah grit his teeth, his grip tightening around Drake’s shirt. Instinctively, he pulled his fist back, aimed to land a sickening punch right in the center of Drake’s gut.

But suddenly, the sound of Hannah’s voice gave him pause. “Noah? Drake? Where’d you go?!”

Noah let out one last warning growl before releasing Drake’s shirt and stalking away.