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Chapter one

Ryann

The drizzle has penetrated the top layer of my clothes, making them heavy and chilling me to the bone. The bitter wind drives tiny drops of ice water to attack my unprotected skin. My fingers are long past numb, and my face no longer burns. I glance back and see a bus slowly move down the wet, dark street with ‘out of service’ illuminated in ominous glowing letters. I put my head down, my hands in my pockets, and walk quickly. With my hood up and my baggy camo jacket and backpack, I can easily pass for a guy, a homeless bum, or, especially, someone you would glance at and instantly forget. Being female and slight, out walking this time of night without a friend in sight, is an invitation to morons who think I’m just an easy target.

I hear a footstep behind me, just a whisper of sound, but that’s all it takes. My stomach knots, and adrenaline floods my body. I know I should move, but I can’t. I’m locked in place, a thousand memories playing the What-If game. Is it trouble? Is it danger? The desire to fight is low, I don’t have anything left, to flee is all I can manage. If I could turn around, maybe that might break the spell, but I can’t even force my trembling legs to do that. My breath puffs out of my lungs, turning to white clouds in front of my face. My ears strain almost painfully for any sound that would indicate what I should do to survive the next moment. I slide my foot, shifting my weight slowly to the other so I can spring into a run.

A feminine laugh rips through the night. Blinding, crushing relief hits me, and I’m released from the spell, slumping, able to draw a deep breath. I look over my shoulder anyway, needing to be certain. Two women, girls, really, stumble drunk and cheerfully towards me. They pass me, barely sparing me a glance in their tall, stiletto heels and short skirts that make me feel cold just looking at them. The high pitch squeals of a conversation that makes no sense steal the loneliness from the frosty night. The threat of danger eases its stranglehold on me.

“Fuck!” I hiss, annoyed with myself. My adrenaline ebbs, and I’m left feeling even more exhausted than I was before.

I begin my shuffle again, scanning the dark road as I pass by. On one side is a row of closed shops, on the other a carpark. Ahead of me is a brightly illuminated pub called The Rose. That’s my destination, and the very thought of warmth and food has me staggering forward with purpose.

I get there quicker than I expect and press a hand to my stomach as it growls and tightens painfully. With a glance around to make sure no one is watching, I peel off my jacket, shoving it in my backpack. At least now, most of my wet clothes are hidden. With a quick toss of my head, my long auburn hair flows free, and I’m ready, presentable again.

I shove the door open with one hand, wincing at the sudden blare of noise that I couldn’t or didn’t register when I was outside. The thump, thump, thump of the bass is almost intrusive. The colours are blinding, the flicker of lights dizzying. Booze, perfume, and sweaty people assault the senses. I ease inside, stepping close to the wall so I can get my bearings.

The pub is full of guys and stunningly beautiful women laughing loudly and having a good time. They look like any other normal crowd of people. I envy them. I haven’t been that carefree or happy in years.

As I peer around, it all bleeds in with every other place I’ve been to. Same, familiar, similar, and not. Adrenaline smacks into me for a second time. I clutch at a stool behind me, staggering to hold myself upright. There’s no way. Just no way. The familiar face smiles and laughs, turning away from me as he reaches for a beer. He twists back and says something that makes his friends laugh.

No!

Why is the universe so cruel to me?

He looks different from the photos my uncle sent me. There is something strained about him, like everything here is one tap short of shattering his control. He looks like an angel. He’s a fucking demon on the ice. His skill is legendary. He’s a household name. A hockey god!

Raider Raines is a defenseman on my uncles pro ice hockey team. The Greene Alpha Demons are on track to win the championship this year, and Raider is my uncle’s star player. Years of hearing about how good this alpha is have both plagued my jealousy-filled yearnings for family and given me a sick fantasy to fuck myself with. I have seen those blue-green eyes in my dreams for years. I have stared at his photo and touched myself, bringing myself to orgasm as I imagined him moving in me. Hell, I’ve done a lot worse with the image of Raider Raines plastered to my eyelids.

He’s my ultimate fantasy, one I can never have.

It’s not fair.

His blue-black hair flops over the left side of his face, and, even from here, I can tell how well-muscled he is. He’s gorgeous, and everyone knows it. They all gravitate to him and around him, the puck bunnies glancing coyly, his team mates drawing him in with laughter and conversation. He looks like the kind of guy who never needs to ever worry about where he’s getting dick or pussy from.

I approach the bar.

“Hey, Jack and Coke, thanks.”

The bald-headed barman nods, walks away, and returns a minute later with my drink. I put cash on the bar, he wisely doesn’t say anything. I should drink this and get out of dodge. My stomach twists again, violently.

“Don’t suppose you do food?”

“Kitchen’s closed,” he says and stalks away. Rude bastard.

Course, it is.

I glance at the door as it opens, tensing until I see a man and woman walk in. Unfamiliar to me but clearly known to each other. People spot them and greet them with shrill squeals. The tension ebbs slowly but not all the way.

A guy leans close to me, his garlic scent is strong, and I discreetly lean away, sip my drink, and watch the hockey team. I’m hyper aware of the middle-aged man, though, almost to the point that I forget the rest of the room.

“It’s better, to be honest.” The drunk slurs to his friend, who lands against the bar heavily. “Always tell your missus everything. She’ll find out anyway and rip your balls off if you don’t.”

The friend laughs nasally, jostling me as his flying arms start speaking for him. “Nah, you always gotta keep some things to yourself. Your beta probably has five guys on the side and an escape fund. You can’t trust anyone. Especially the people you care about. They’re the ones who will screw you hardest.”

He’s not wrong. Even drunk, the guy has sound logic. Secrets are best kept.

“Your omega screwed me hardest.”

And, just like that, the conversation devolves. Drunk Idiot A throws a punch, misses, and ends up sprawled over a stool, cursing. Drunk Idiot B loudly starts laughing so hard he knocks over a beer.

“Gus, take your ass home!” The bartender says dryly. “Or I will call your missus to come get you. And you, too, Steven. ”

The two of them move off, muttering about assholes under their breath.

My attention returns to the one place it should not be. I shouldn’t be anywhere near the hockey team, especially this hockey team, but I can’t look away from them. It brings back so many memories. A guy approaches Raider Raines and leans into his ear to whisper.

“Shit,” I murmur under my breath, my mouth falls open. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

He’s almost as beautiful as Raider. I know his name, of course, I do, but Raider and Wren Turner together? No, that’s impossible. Wren plays on the other side of the country for the Hornets. Or at least he did. Did they trade him? And why do they look like they’re about to fuck right here in the bar?

Wren is a beautiful man with shaggy brown hair in a man bun, steel eyes, and a scowl that would frighten children. He is intense with an iron focus on one thing: the game.

But, as I watch, his finger reaches out and slides down Raider’s hand to wrap around it. The two of them stare at each other in an intimate moment. I don’t think anyone else is supposed to see. I choke on my drink. They have heat waves coming off them, I swear.

That’s just cruel. Seeing them together would melt the minds of just about everyone on the planet. Especially since Wren is as famous a hockey player and rival of Raiders.

I turn away, tensing as the door opens again. As soon as it’s clear, I pick up my bag and head to the other side of the pub, putting the big, giant hockey team between me and the exit.

I sit down at a booth and pull the bowl of peanuts to me. I chew slowly, wincing at the growl in my stomach. When was the last time I ate? I can’t even remember, the days have blurred together.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

I flick my gaze up and, finding nothing of note, return to eating, uninterested in the alpha peacocking in front of me.

“Unless you have food, go away.”

He leers and leans over. I think it’s supposed to be sexy, but it falls flat.

“I’ve got something I can feed you,” he says in a low voice.

Eww. I recognise him as Harris Knowles, a right winger on the third line.

I look him up and down and go back to eating my nuts. He’s got a crooked nose, brown hair, and nice blue eyes, it’s just the vibe coming off him that makes me want to stab him in the balls.

He scowls but loses his frown quickly and sits down, pressing himself against my side. Apparently, the first wooing attempt has failed, and he’s moved on to a second tactic.

I ignore him .

Another guy slides in on my left, and I look up to rip him apart, only to freeze when Raider eyes me curiously.

My tongue ties, and I find myself voiceless in front of the legendary D-man.

“I’m Raider,” he says in tones that make me want to throw myself onto him.

“Ryann.”

“Rhee-ann?”

I nod, trying to keep my breathing even and not do anything embarrassing.

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re a fan of his!” Harris whines. “Its not fair! Raider, you take all the hot girls.”

“And that’s the reason you’re going home alone tonight!” I snarl at him, thoroughly uninterested in his whining.

He ignores me and stomps off.

I let out a whine when I glance down and see that Harris knocked all my nuts onto the sticky table. Can I still eat them? No, I can’t. Damnit!

“You’re really hungry, aren’t you?” Raider says with a laugh. “I know the feeling.”

“Yes,” I say bleakly. “I just got off the bus. The pub doesn’t sell food, and, if I recall correctly, it’s about an hour’s walk to the nearest convenience store.”

Raider raises a brow. “Are you a local?”

I shake my head. “Just dropped by a few years back. On a return trip for work.”

He makes an ‘ah’ sound. “What do you do?”

“I’m a professional photographer,” I say absently and sweep all the nuts into the bowl and set them aside. I just can’t eat them now, no matter how hungry I am.

My stomach growls, and Raider sits back, laughing.

“Shut up, it’s not funny.”

“It kinda is. Come on, I’ve got something for you at home. I promise, nothing shady. But you won’t even find food at the convenience store this late. Consider this a kindness, one good deed from me to you.”

“Actual food, right?” I ask suspiciously.

Raider smiles and dips his head. “My house mate loves food, so there is always something tasty at home. Come on. I know what it feels like to be stuck somewhere on the road and need a meal. Consider this my one good deed for the year. You can sell the story to the tabloids when you need another meal.”

That’s not even funny.

“Why are you being nice?”

I can’t believe I’m asking Raider this question, but people aren’t nice. Not for no reason. Raider Raines is not going to kill me, I don’t think anyway .

But there are worse things that could happen. He could rape me. He could beat me up and rob me.

I consider my options, but taking the risk of going with Raider wins easily. I am so hungry.

Is that how desperate I am?

Yes, yes, I am. I just need a meal and a place to rest. And no one would expect me to go home with him.

I shake my head at my own stupidity. “Okay, hold on.” I approach the bar and tap to get the bartender’s attention. “I’m going home with Raider Raines. If you see me on the news, call the police and tell them he did it.”

Raider bursts into a peal of laughter that makes my stomach flutter.

“It’s not funny,” I growl as he walks me outside and helps me into his monster truck. “Girls have to be safe.”

From the shadows, I spot someone watching. My heart jolts in my chest, and my mouth goes dry. I strain to see who it is. He shifts and brings his face into a beam of light, and I realise it’s Wren. I wonder how he feels about Raider bringing me home. His disapproval leaks into the surrounding air with a cold hostility that makes me edgy. Well, that answers that question.

I should be worried, right? Should I say something?

But I feel like I know Raider Raines, as if we’ve been acquaintances all this time. I’ve been hearing about everything he’s done forever. I trust him. Wren, on the other hand, is a wild card.

Raider is my safe bet.

Wren stomps over and snatches the keys out of Raider’s hands. “Are you trying to lose your license? You’ve been drinking.”

I almost offer to leave, but my stomach grinds on air, and instead, I give in to my shameless nature. Sometimes you got to do what you got to do. Even if it hurts your pride.

Wren drives us through town and turns into the driveway of a modest little house in a cul-de-sac. He parks, and, in the dark, I can see the pretty, manicured gardens and the letterbox, all white and shiny.

Wren tenses his fingers around the steering wheel. “Don’t do this! It’s wrong.”

Raider snorts a laugh. “I’m just feeding the hungry. Go to bed, Wren. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Wait! They live together?

Wren disappears into the carport, slamming the roller door down and leaving no illusions to what he thinks on the matter. Now I’m left alone with Raider. The big hockey player leads me to a front door that has a cute stained glass insert .

I feel like I’ve entered the twilight zone.

This is not how I expected playboy Raider to live. It’s normal. It’s not affluent or expensive. The appliances are years old. It looks like any other suburban house I’ve ever rented, complete with dinged up walls and old fixtures that are from decades ago.

He leads me into a kitchen with a massive new fridge. It appears to be the only thing brand new in the house. Raider stares into the light and hums. He pulls out several containers and starts heating them up in a microwave that sits on dark laminate. I pause, listening as I hear someone stomp upstairs.

“If he doesn’t want me here, you can tell him I’m just here to eat.”

“Wren isn’t my boyfriend or my lover. He’s just a friend, and it’s nothing to do with you. It’s just me, trust me, he’s pissed at me. Just ignore him.”

My stomach growls, but, other than that, silence stretches out between us. I feel like I should say something, anything, but I can’t think properly. My head is foggy, and all I can think about is food, especially since that scent is wafting at me in a delicious wave of torture.

When he sets the food down on the table in the dining room, I fall upon it like a starving dog. I don’t even think, I just eat.

Oh, god, it tastes so good.

I wolf more down until I’m able to slow and finally stop.

Raider’s watching me with a bemused smile, spinning a glass of amber liquid.

He drinks it down and tops it up before sliding it to me.

I drink it down and slide it back.

Still nothing is said. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

He stands up, and I realise his eyes are glazed. How many drinks did he have while I was eating? I get nervous and stand up, moving back into the kitchen and dumping my plate and fork in the sink, but he moves his body so I’m caged against it.

“Raider? You don’t want to do this.” My protest is weak.

He leans down, inhaling the scent at my neck. I shiver and tense, hyper aware of him and the heat that is scorching me. I’m conscious of him, how huge he is, all those hard muscles, the way he’s moving closer and closer.

“I love brownies.”

All those fantasies explode back into my memory, and I exhale in a shudder as his lips trace over my shoulder, the tank top I’m wearing doesn’t cover much. Brownies? Oh, my scent. I can barely smell it, but I’ve heard from other alphas that it’s intense.

“You’re so beautiful.”

I blink, and before I can think, he’s spun me around and has one giant, muscled thigh pressed between my legs. We’re really doing this? Okay! I wish I’d had time for a shower. I can’t remember the last time I had sex, it was a meh experience. Whilst I have no doubts in my mind that sex with Raider would blow my puny little mind, part of me is nervous and holds back.

“One night?” he whispers, teasing me into temptation.

I reach up, reluctantly pressing my fingers to his chest. Touching him is my undoing, though, and the minute I do, all my reservations, all my willpower melts away.

I lean into him with a groan.

He grabs my wrist and lifts it, dragging his teeth over the side of my palm in a move that has me soaking my panties.

“Follow me,” he says, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.

He leads me out of the kitchen and away from the dining room to a hallway with a set of stairs. We ascend quickly, and he turns left, choosing the third door.

The minute I’m inside, he puts his hands on my hips, spins me, and walks me backwards into the dark room.

“I can’t believe you just fell into my world like this,” Raider moans. “It's so unbelievably perfect.”

I turn my mouth to his, but he pulls back, his hands stoke over my hips, though, as if to appease me. That’s strange, what he just said. Alarm bells jingle, but they are so far away.

“Raider!” I’m filled with this heady lust, this uncontrollable fire.

He leans in close again, kissing my neck and licking up to my earlobe. He bites it.

I hear a rattle behind me, but I don’t really pay attention. I tilt my head, giving him more access as he moves me so I’m pushed up against a wall.

“Sit on my computer chair.”

I glance to the side, spotting it, and sit down obediently. I don’t even question it.

“Good, you are so good. Do you trust me?”

I nod my head, too filled with lust to think clearly. If I could just feel good for a minute, I can survive anything.

He shows me the red satin. “It’s a kink of mine. All you need to do is say stop, and I will, okay?”

I nod, wishing he would stop talking. He can do whatever he wants.

He starts tying me up, drawing the cool satin against my skin and touching me, teasing me with erotic brushes of his knuckles, fingertips, and palms.

By the time I’m completely tied up, unable to move, I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been in my life.

Raider smiles at me. “You really are exquisite, Ryann. It’s too bad I have to do this.”

My arousal vanishes in a second. “Do what?”

Raider gets a length of duct tape and straps it over my mouth .

He stands up, rolls me on the chair into the dark, and closes the door.

Raider Raines, god of all my fantasies, just lured me to his house for food and sex, only to lock me in…what is this? A fucking closet?

I’m going to kick his ass, big hockey defense player or not. No one fucking locks Ryann Smith in a closest and walks away.