Page 21

Chapter

Fourteen

JAX

I slump deeper into the leather couch, staring at the half-empty tumbler of bourbon in my hand. After an emergency meeting with the team owner about ticket sales, since apparently a one-percent drop is the end of the world, I need the drink.

I take another sip, letting the burn coat my throat. The bourbon doesn't taste as good as it usually does. Nothing really has since that night on the ice when Darren's scent changed everything.

The memory replays for what must be the thousandth time. Darren crumpled on the ice, that woodsmoke scent suddenly filling the arena, the shock on everyone's faces. The way my own body responded instantly, some primal part of me recognizing pack omega before my brain could catch up.

God, what a mess.

I set the glass down and rub my temples.

Darren is right about one thing—if word gets out, the media circus will be unbearable.

Male omegas are rare enough, but a professional athlete presenting at twenty-seven?

They'll descend like vultures. And that's before the league office gets involved with their "safety concerns" and "biological suitability assessments. "

The worst part is, I'm not entirely sure they'd be wrong. Every time Darren takes a hit on the ice now, my chest seizes up. Every instinct screaming to protect, to shield, to pull him off the ice entirely. It's getting harder to ignore, even with the suppressants masking his scent.

And if I'm struggling— me , who prides himself on control—then what chance do the others have? Zayn's already a loose cannon on his best days. Dmitri nearly took a guy's head off last game for a routine check on Darren. And Aidan’s so obviously mooning over Darren, it's painful to watch.

But if Darren gets benched, or worse, cut loose because of his designation.

.. I don't think he'll stay with the pack.

And why would he? We're teammates first, pack second.

Always have been. Without hockey binding us together, what's to stop him from finding another pack?

Especially if he associates us with his awakening.

The thought sends a cold spike through my chest that has nothing to do with the ice we skate on. Darren leaving. Walking away from the pack bond we've built over years. From me.

And I'm still trying to untangle how much of that dread comes from losing a packmate versus losing our suddenly-omega packmate. The distinction shouldn't matter, but it does. It matters in ways I don't want to examine too closely.

The front door slams with enough force to rattle the windows, jerking me from my thoughts. I look up to find Darren standing in the entryway looking like he's about to murder someone. Preferably me.

And he's wearing a suit. An actual tailored navy suit that fits his broad shoulders perfectly, with a crisp white shirt open at the collar.

No tie, but still more dressed up than I've seen him.

.. maybe ever. Even at mandatory press events, getting Darren into anything more formal than a team-issued polo is like trying to bathe a feral cat.

My brain short circuits.

He looks good. Too good. The kind of good that makes my mouth go dry and my thoughts scatter in directions they have no business going. I force my eyes up to his face, which is currently setting a new record for "if looks could kill."

"What's wrong?" I ask, knowing damn well what's wrong.

"What's wrong?" he echoes, voice dangerously calm. "The restaurant. Ring any bells?"

My heart drops to somewhere around my ankles. Fuck. The date. His blind date that we were all supposed to attend. The one he told us about in no uncertain terms after the last game.

"Oh," I manage. "Right. The date."

"Yeah," he says, the word dripping with venom. "The date. The one you all promised to show up for."

I set my glass down and stand, guilt washing over me in a wave. "Darren, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot." It's the truth, which only makes it worse. "The owner called me in for an emergency meeting and it completely slipped my mind."

His eyes narrow, suspicion replacing some of the anger. "What did he want?"

"Just playoff ticket strategies," I answer, not wanting him to worry. Even that would probably piss him off. "Wants to make sure we're maximizing revenue with the right seat allocations."

Darren studies me, and I know he doesn't fully believe me. Seven years as teammates gives you a pretty good bullshit detector. But he lets it go, jaw still tight.

"And the others?" he asks.

"I don't know," I admit. "I didn't talk to them. Like I said, I completely forgot until now."

He runs a hand through his hair, making the short brown strands stand up in a way that's unreasonably attractive. The anger seems to be ebbing, replaced by resignation.

"Unbelievable," he mutters. "One simple thing I ask you guys to do, and none of you can be bothered to show up."

"I really am sorry," I say, meaning it. Captain or not, I dropped the ball here. "Let me get you a beer."

He hesitates, then gives a curt nod, shrugging out of his suit jacket to reveal how the white shirt stretches across his shoulders. I force myself to look away as I head to the kitchen, angry at my own distraction. This isn't me. I don't get flustered over packmates, no matter their designation.

I grab two beers from the fridge and twist the caps off, using the moment to compose myself.

When I return to the living room, Darren's settled onto the couch, his long legs stretched out, ankle resting on one knee in a pose of casual masculinity that contradicts everything the world expects from an omega.

Except an omega is exactly what he is. The proof is in the woodsmoke scent that leaks through even the strongest blockers by the end of the day, in the way my body responds to his presence, in the urge to move closer, to breathe him in, to touch...

Fuck. I hand him a beer and take the chair across from him, putting a bit of distance between us.

"So," I say, desperate to steer my thoughts in a safer direction, "how did it go?"

A small, traitorous part of me hopes it was a disaster. That whoever this mystery woman is, the date fell flat. That he won't want to see her again. That jealous twist in my gut shames me the moment I recognize it. I have no claim on him. He's not mine to be jealous over.

More to the point, I've never been interested in male omegas before. Never had any inclination toward men at all, actually. And neither has Darren, as far as I know. This is just biology messing with my head, not anything real. Not anything that matters.

To my dismay, Darren's expression lightens, the anger around his eyes softening into what looks dangerously like fondness.

"It went great, actually," he says, taking a pull from his beer. "She's gorgeous. Smart, funny, driven. Runs her own business designing clothes." A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "And she has no fucking clue who any of us are, which is a nice bonus."

I force a chuckle, ignoring the way my chest tightens. "She sounds great."

She does sound great. Which is exactly the problem.

"So she's a beta?" I ask, trying to keep my tone casual. The last thing we need is two omegas in the mix, especially with Darren's own instincts still so new and unpredictable. Omega territoriality can get ugly fast, especially in pack situations where hierarchies are still settling.

He shakes his head. "Beta. And she's already not sure about the whole 'omega in a pack' thing since she's been burned before.

Probably by assholes who treat betas like second string.

" He takes another swig of beer. "So convincing her to even consider a second date after getting stood up by four alphas was a pretty impressive feat, if I do say so myself. "

I wince, the guilt surging back fresh. "I really am sorry, Darren. It won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't," he says, but the heat has left his voice. "You can make it up to me by making sure the entire pack is actually there next time. Use that captain pull. Bark, if you have to. You're good at that."

I wince. "Okay, I deserved that."

"Yeah, you did," he says flatly.

I sigh, already dreading the logistics of that conversation. Zayn alone will be a nightmare to convince. "I'll see what I can do."

"Not what you 'can do.' What you will do." The steel in his voice reminds me of the player he's always been, the defenseman who never backs down, who makes a promise with his body on the ice and keeps it even if it means broken bones. "Either they all show, or we have a problem."

The implication is clear enough. If we can't honor this one simple request, our pack bond is going to be strained. And maybe it should. Maybe we don't deserve more from him if we can't give him this.

"Can I ask what you're hoping to accomplish with this… addition?" I ask, choosing my words carefully.

He looks annoyed, but he doesn't snap. "What I was hoping to accomplish is giving you four knotheads something pretty to look at so you stop looking at me like you're hallucinating a Philly cheesesteak after a four-week fast," he says pointedly, and I have to swallow a laugh at his typical Darren humor.

Then a seriousness comes over his expression I wasn't expecting.

"But then I actually met her and realized she's a hell of a lot more than that.

She's… well, you'll see when you meet her, I guess. "

"I'll make sure they're there," I promise, and this time there's no hesitation. "All of us."

He studies me for a long moment, those blue eyes searching my face for the truth. Whatever he finds there must satisfy him, because he nods once, sharp and decisive.

"Good." He drains the last of his beer and sets the bottle on the coffee table. "Friday night. Reservation at eight. The Terrace."

The Terrace? He really had to flex his team cred to get a reservation at that place. He's serious about this girl.

"We'll be there," I assure him, trying to picture Zayn willingly sitting through dinner with a woman he doesn't know just to smooth things over with Darren. It's going to take some captain's muscle to make that happen, but I'll do it. For Darren.

An awkward silence falls between us. There's more I want to ask, about this woman, about how Darren feels, about how he's really handling the omega thing, but I'm not sure he wants to tell me. Not sure I have the right to ask anymore, after letting him down tonight.

Now, it's time to prove myself.