Adam stepped out of the luxury sedan with a singular focus that bordered on the predatory.
He did not bother with the car door, leaving it hanging open as he cradled Noah against his bare chest.
He walked with a brisk, heavy stride across the gravel path and pushed open the massive oak doors of the mansion with a force that echoed through the grand foyer.
The air inside was cool and smelled of beeswax and expensive lilies, but the atmosphere changed the moment he crossed the threshold, saturated by the heavy, sweet scent of an Omega in peak heat and the musk of an Alpha on the verge of a rut.
Mrs. Damson was in the center of the sitting room, her posture straight and professional as she directed two younger maids on the finer points of dusting the crystal chandeliers.
The moment the front door slammed open, all three women turned toward the sound, their mouths already forming the polite greetings they had practiced for years.
However, the words died in their throats.
