Hannah scowled as Noah stared at her phone, Drake's message still displayed. She could see the wheels turning in his head, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Jealousy, she knew.

“Well, well,” she teased, rising and facing him, hands on hips. “Is the big bad Alpha feeling a little territorial?”

He bristled, nostrils flaring. “This has nothing to do with territory,” he snapped. “I’m concerned Drake might be up to no good.”

“Up to no good?” she echoed, derisively. “He asked me to lunch. What nefarious scheme could that be?”

“Things get twisted around here,” Noah insisted, running a hand through his hair. “People seeing you two together will breed more rumors. It was bad enough the first time.”

“Whose fault is that?” she challenged. “You’ve been so hot and cold, nobody understands what’s going on between us.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but held up a hand to stop him. “Besides,” she reasoned, waving a hand dismissively, “it’s good for the Luna to bond with the Alpha Council. It shows unity, strength, understanding. They'll appreciate that.”

Noah scowled. “Is that really it? A performance for the council?”

“Sure,” she said, circling the couch and taking her phone from his loosening grip. “Besides, you never explain those cozy moments with Zoe.”

Immediately, she knew she’d struck a nerve. Noah stiffened, a muscle in his cheek twitching as he glared.

“I’ve never been intimate with Zoe,” he said, each word precise. “How many times must I say this?”

A harsh laugh twisted her lips. “Not yet,” she countered coolly. “And I haven’t forgotten that haunted house trip—everyone saw you cradling her. How is that better than lunch with Drake?”

An angry growl rumbled from Noah’s chest. He raked his hands through his hair, pacing. When he whirled back, his eyes blazed with frustration and hurt.

“You’re digging your own grave, Hannah,” he spat. “Go out with Drake and see what happens; don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With that ominous warning, Noah stormed out. Hannah stared after him, realizing how hard her heart had been pounding.

She stood before the mirror, her curling iron heating her hair. She’d chosen simple makeup: concealer, mascara, and light lipstick.

It was a beautiful, sunny morning; a little chilly, but comfortable. She’d woken with undeniable excitement, unsure if it was about the outing or getting back at Noah for abandoning her at the library.

As she styled her hair, Noah’s words echoed: “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when it all backfires.”

He knows nothing, she thought. It’ll be fine. Drake is… an ally.

Her phone chimed. A text from Drake lit up the screen: “Wear something casual. Where we’re going, you’ll want to be comfortable. Oh, and wear pants.”

She frowned, puzzling over his cryptic message. She tapped out a response: “Should I be concerned? You’re not dragging me into the woods, are you?”

His reply was instant: “Tempting, but no. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

A reluctant grin touched her lips. Fun, he’d said. She supposed she needed some fun.

Drake's warning prompted a change of outfit. Black skinny jeans, a burgundy sweater, and low-heeled boots. Simple, stylish, and designed to turn heads—without seeming like she’d tried too hard.

Stepping back to admire herself in the mirror, she smiled. Casual, yet undeniably attractive. Just the right blend to keep Noah wondering.

Noon arrived. The faint rumble of an engine reached her ears. After a final glance in the mirror, she touched up her lip gloss, grabbed her jacket, and opened the front door.

Anticipation fluttered in her belly. She was curious about Drake’s plans, but completely unprepared for what she saw.

Idling at the curb, Drake, in a sleek black leather jacket, grinned, extending a motorcycle helmet. Her jaw dropped as she took in the gleaming chrome and black metal of the motorcycle, its engine purring invitingly. Drake’s grin widened at her stunned expression.

“Ready for an adventure?” His eyes raked over her, a satisfied expression on his face. “You dressed well. I hope you’re comfortable going fast.”

She took a hesitant step forward, her heart pounding. The motorcycle purred beneath Drake like a waiting feline.

Before she could speak, he patted the seat. “Get on,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “I told you we were going to have fun.”