Page 8

Hockey is my go-to stress reliever. Unfortunately for me, I’m stuck on a tropical fucking island that sure as hell doesn’t have an indoor rink, so I’m left to my own devices. Namely pacing the floors and cursing under my breath.

“Can’t you calm him down?” Nixon mutters, leaning back in his chair. The top few buttons on his white button down are undone, revealing a spattering of chest hair, while the rolled up sleeves show off his muscled forearms. He even pressed his black dress slacks, neatly trimmed his beard, and left his dark hair down. He’s pulling out all the stops. Girls usually can’t resist the whole Momoa thing he has going on right now, but I have a disappointing feeling that won’t make a damn bit of difference where Elliott is concerned. “At this rate, he’s going to wear a mark in the mahogany floors.”

Flint sighs, brushing lint off his white shorts. With a navy short-sleeved button down and his leather bracelets on, dude looks like he just stepped off the set of a photo shoot. No one would guess he’s a hockey player. “I did it last time. It’s your turn.”

I roll my eyes. “For fuck’s sake. I’m not hurting anyone. You should be grateful the floor is taking the brunt of my frustration.”

“You need to get a handle on that nervous energy.” Nixon sits forward, elbows hitting his massive thighs. “Can’t have you flying off the handle and pissing her off even more.”

I pause, whipping an angry glare in his direction. “Pot, meet kettle.”

“Yeah, yeah. Trust me, I’m giving myself a pep talk over here too. I’m not picking on you. It’s just… Barrett made it pretty fucking clear that they’re not going to hand us any more opportunities like this. Hell, I’m not entirely sure this whole set-up was even West’s doing. We might’ve just gotten really goddamn lucky, and I’m not about to fuck things up even more than they already are.”

After Elliott and Sy’s retreat, we each took the time to shower and get dressed—I threw on a green button down that shows off the colorful sleeves of tats on my forearms and a pair of khaki cargo shorts—so we’d be ready for whatever happened next. Whether that’s another chance to talk with the Omega who has us all twisted up inside or jetting off to the meet-and-greet to watch her romance some douchebag that doesn’t deserve a second of her time, I don’t know. We should be used to it after the years spent watching her from afar, but it never gets any easier. Knowing she’s this close yet we still can’t have her? Fucking torture.

With the sage wisdom of an Omega who reminds me more of Elliott than I’d like to admit, my mother warned me that the woman we’ve set our sights on isn’t simply playing hard to get. There’s something that’s made her wary of everything we’re willingly offering, and we need to pay attention and be patient. If we can do that, our efforts will pay off. If we push too hard, too fast, we’ll throw everything away before we even get a chance. I know she’s right because I trust her instincts, but fuck me if it’s not damned difficult to rein in everything I feel each time I see Elliott.

The creak of the stairs has us all turning in anticipation, except it’s not the sexy stilettos our girl prefers that peek through the open railing. It’s a pair of men’s dress shoes followed by charcoal gray dress pants and a black, short-sleeved button down. I’ll give the Beta some credit, he’s an attractive guy. Just isn’t my kinda flavor. I prefer something a little salty but sweet…like the woman I need to lay eyes on before I lose my ever-loving mind.

“If you’re waiting for Elliott, you’ve already missed her.”

What I don’t miss is the fact that his nostrils flare slightly when he says it, or that his scent has gone tart.

“What do you mean?” Nixon asks warily, bitterness tainting his heavy coffee scent.

“She was fully prepared to get on the next plane out of here. Lucky for all of us, that happened to be midday tomorrow, or she’d be gone already. That brief window of opportunity allowed me time to talk her off the ledge.”

“Then how’d we miss her, jackass?” Patience isn’t my strong suit, and I need to save every ounce I have for the Omega I plan to woo.

He shakes his head. “I’m getting to that.”

“Get to it faster.”

“Raff,” Flint admonishes, but I ignore him.

“I pointed out that we had work to do here, that her transfer depended on it. Then suddenly, it was like her switch flipped. Being reminded about the real purpose for this trip, she battened down her hatches even tighter and stormed into the bathroom without another word. When she came out, she was dressed in a little red dress and sky-high Louboutin heels, looking like a fucking goddess . Before I could find my tongue, she told me she was heading down to the bar where the meet-and-greet was taking place, and I wasn’t allowed to follow her because she needed some space to work her mojo —her words, not mine—which she couldn’t do with me hovering over her.”

His shoulders slump until the dude just looks fucking tired. I almost feel bad for him until I remember he’s our competition.

“Chin up, soldier. When you lose, it won’t be to one of those nobodies Elle’s going to pretend to flirt with while faking that she’s enjoying their company. It will be to us . You can thank us later.”

He snorts. “Your egos alone will ensure your defeat.” Then his hazel eyes meet mine dead on. “You don’t understand her at all, and that will ultimately be your downfall.”

My eyes narrow, but when I take a step forward, Nixon is there, placing himself between us with a hand on my chest. My fists flex at my sides as I prepare to launch myself at the pretty Beta if given even half an opportunity.

“You think you know her better than we do?” Nix asks, his voice tinged with warning.

“I know I do. I also know that whatever happened between all of you in Arizona really fucking scared her. She barely talked to me when she got back to Chicago, which is usually a sign that she’s shut down. When she finally reached out, I could tell something was off, but she clammed up whenever I asked about it, so I eventually let it go.” He shakes his head. “How the hell did you fuck up so badly?”

Pretty sure we all fucking flinch at the confirmation of just how atrociously our last encounter with Elliott went.

“Honestly, we’re not even sure what went wrong. We picked her up from the airport, and she was a mess,” Flint begins, running a hand down the back of his neck. “I’ve never seen her so broken, and there we were, getting the chance to comfort her like our Alpha instincts begged us to. The entire drive to the hospital, we held her and brushed her tears away as they poured down her cheeks. She clung to us like we were her lifeline, and we whispered all the positive words she needed to hear. Then we followed her in and watched her walk away from us, down the hall to Cadie’s room, and waited with everyone else. Her walls were down, and we were all sure she’d finally let us in. We thought she was ready to give us a chance. It was the moment we’d been waiting years for.”

“Let me guess. She came out and had already locked her emotions up tight? Acted like nothing had happened?” We all stare at him, and I’m not sure what the others are thinking, but I’m starting to realize he might not be bullshitting us after all. He shrugs. “I told you. I know her.”

“If you’re such a fucking expert, what the hell are we doing wrong?” I mutter.

He shoves his hands into his front pockets, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “Now, why would I do something as stupid as give you an advantage?”

With a growl of frustration, I look to the ceiling, praying for the most horrific case of crabs to infest this man’s dick. When my gaze lowers and lands on Flint, my thoughts stutter. His eyes are trailing over the Beta in a way that tells me he’s not nearly as aggravated as I am. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s imagining the bastard naked. I tilt my head, trying to figure out how I feel about that.

We’ve been pack for years, and it’s always been the three of us. We haven’t been saints, but none of us have ever had anything serious. We don’t even fuck around with puck bunnies, and up until ten seconds ago, I didn’t even know Flint was into dudes. Not that I care either way. The man is free to dangle his bits wherever he deems worthy, but while I don’t interfere with my brother’s love life, I’m sure as hell going to give him shit about his interest in this particular Beta.

“See something you like?” I deadpan, and my packmate’s eyes whip over to me while the Beta just pushes his glasses up his nose with one finger, gaze drifting between the two of us.

“Shut the fuck up, bro.”

The flush that works its way across his cheeks tells me I was right.

“You know he’s the enemy, right? Unless this is your plan to get inside information, then I’m all for it.”

Nix hides his surprised chuckle behind his hand, but Flint growls as he stands.

“Come on. I’m not going to sit around and wait while Elliott finds her first mark. I’m going down there to check on her. You can either come with me or stay here gossiping like school girls. Your call.”

He heads for the door, not looking back to see if we’re following. I shoot Nixon a questioning look.

“He’s right. We should go make sure she’s okay.”

I let Nix pass me as he follows our packmate out the door, leaving me with the Beta who doesn’t look nearly as cocky as he did a few moments ago.

“I’m only going to tell you this once,” I say softly. “You fuck him up… You’ll fucking pay. Understand?”

Sy’s eyes go wide, but I don’t stand around for a reply. Instead, I head out the door, walking down a well-lit path with signs that guide us to where the event is being held. My brothers are up ahead, in deep discussion about something I can’t make out. Not that I even try. Instead, I give myself a few minutes to get my game face on because we might be champions on the ice, but in love, we’re zero and three with no timeouts remaining.

Music filters along the breeze, light peeking through the palms as we reach a large gazebo and bar where a crowd of people are mingling with drinks in their hands. Appetizers are spread out along the length of the mahogany bar top, and patrons are eagerly filling their plates. Nixon and Flint have stopped on the edge of the gathering, eyes scanning the crowd. I’m too impatient. I walk right past them, straight into the middle of the space. It’s evident pretty quickly that the ratio of men to women is severely unbalanced. In other words, it’s a huge fucking sausage fest.

I spy a group of pompous assholes whose eyes are all locked on something I can’t see from my current vantage point. Taking a couple steps forward, a flash of red catches my eye, and I get my first look at Elliott.

Goddamn, the woman is fine. Her tanned skin looks incredible with the sexy red dress that dips low in the front and shows off miles of toned leg. Her hair is tossed over one shoulder, and she’s laughing at something the man beside her is saying. She licks her lips, tucking the lower one between her teeth as the asshat leans in with a strawberry poised in front of her face.

I don’t want to watch, but I can’t look away when she closes the distance, wrapping those plump, kissable lips around the fruit. The jackasses near me all whisper and elbow each other, and I’d like to say I’m better than them, but I’d be lying. My dick is hard beneath the zipper of my shorts, and it takes everything in me not to storm over there and take back what should be mine.

“Are you fucking seeing this?” Nixon murmurs from beside me.

“Kinda hard not to.”

“What do we do?” Flint steps up next to me, and Sy appears on his other side, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Nothing. This is what she’s here for. You interrupt her now, and it’ll just piss her off more.”

I glare at him. “You can just stand there, watching this shit show, and do nothing ?”

“Yup. And if you’re smarter than I’ve given you credit for, you’ll do the same thing.”

Nixon’s hand lands on my shoulder. “He’s right. She’s gotta figure it out for herself. We interfere, and we’ll just be stoking the fire hotter.”

Anger and something that feels a lot like hopelessness settle in my gut as the Omega that we’ve all but claimed ignores us in favor of random strangers who have no idea how incredible she is.

She lifts a grape from the plate between them, offering it to the smarmy turdwaffle with a wicked grin and a look in her eyes that promises things I don’t want to imagine. He playfully bites the fruit, his lips briefly closing around her fingertips, and she giggles. Fucking giggles. The sound makes my dick throb even from fifty feet away.

She says something that makes him laugh, then the next few seconds happen so fast, it takes my brain a moment to process what I'm seeing. Douche canoe abruptly straightens, his palms landing on the table as his body jerks. He knocks his chair back, while his hands fly up to his throat in the universal sign for choking.

Holy shit! The idiot is choking on the grape.

Elliott is out of her seat and pounding on his back in a matter of seconds, which doesn’t seem to do shit all for the poor loser. We all watch in stunned horror as her arms wrap around his waist and she starts to perform the Heimlich maneuver. It’s damn impressive considering their size difference. With a couple of good heaves, the grape comes catapulting out of his mouth, flying through the air and knocking over a bottle of wine sitting on the table beside them. In the next instant, the man flails back and knocks into Elle, who wasn’t expecting the sudden movement. She doesn’t have time to right herself. Instead, her legs tangle with his before they both topple to the ground.

I’m moving before I make a conscious effort to. In ten long strides, I’m kneeling beside her. My brothers must’ve been right behind me because they lift the asshole off her much smaller frame, giving him shit for not being more careful. Scared green eyes meet mine, her lips showing the slightest tremble.

“Hey, honey bear,” I whisper softly, trying not to provoke her claws. “You okay?”

She nods, glancing down at her body. When she starts to pull her leg back, she winces.

“Fuck a duck!”

With a grin, I switch to professional mode faster than she can blink, my hands skimming along skin that feels like silk as my fingers prod at the delicate bone of her ankle. You don’t spend your entire adult life as a professional hockey player without learning a thing or two about basic injuries and how to treat them.

“I don’t feel anything broken,” I murmur, mostly to myself, gently rotating her foot until she whimpers softly. What that sound does to my Alpha instincts is something I’m forced to keep under wraps or risk her ire. My next peek at her face comes just in time to catch her grimace. “That hurts right there?”

“A little.”

“We should get you back to the villa where we can ice it. We’ll need to watch for any swelling or bruising and decide if it requires an x-ray.”

“I’m sure I just twisted it a little. If I stay off of it, it should be fine.”

“Perfect plan.”

I don’t give her the option to disagree. Sliding one arm behind her back and another beneath her knees, I lift her off the floor and into my arms. Instinctually, hers wrap around my neck for balance. Her scent envelops me, the tart scent of oranges sweetened by a hint of vanilla. I ignore how much my dick likes that, right along with how much it likes the feel of her weight against my chest, and start to walk.

“Raff, what are you doing?”

“You said it yourself. You gotta stay off of it, so I’ll carry you.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Do you have a better solution?” Without waiting for a response, I risk a quick look over my shoulder. My brothers are watching us with identical looks of surprise.

I’d laugh right now, but no way in hell am I giving Elle even the tiniest opening to jump ship.

“Guess he really is smarter than I thought. Looks like one of you figured out what you’re doing wrong after all.”

Sy’s words reach me as I head down the path that leads back toward the villa, and I barely manage to hide the smile that wants to break free. He may understand our girl, but I’m pretty sure I’m starting to a little as well.

Elle is suspiciously silent, so I brave a quick look at her face. With her head tilted quizzically and her eyes slightly narrowed, I start to wonder if I’ve made a grave mistake. At least from this angle, my dick is safe. When she doesn’t say anything, my nerves ratchet up degree by degree until I’m damn near sweating bullets.

“You’re freaking me out, honey bear.” With one hand, I type in the code on the keypad, managing to push the handle and open the door without breaking my hold on her. “If you’re going to attack, give me a five-second head start once I get you settled on the sofa with an ice pack, okay?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

I don’t expect the question, and my brow furrows.

“When am I not nice to you?” I ask, walking through the front living space to the kitchen where I gently set her down on the counter long enough to sift through the drawers and find a ziplock bag, fill it with ice, and grab a paper towel. When I return to the counter, her arms are already circling around my neck before I pick her back up. “Living room or patio?”

“Patio,” she replies softly.

“Now, what’s this about me not being nice?” When she doesn’t respond, I glance down to find her staring at me like I’m some alien creature that’s whisking her away to his UFO. “It’s not a hard question, Elle.”

She looks thoughtful as we walk out onto the patio, and I catch the sound of the front door opening, then low murmurs, before the patio door closes behind us. There are strings of lights overhead, giving the space a soft glow. It would be romantic if the woman in my arms wasn’t so contrary. There’s a lounge chair by the bar, so I make my way over and carefully lay her down, making sure to be extra gentle with her injured foot. Kneeling next to the chair, I do another quick once over, fingers tenderly feeling along the bone on both sides, noting that there’s no swelling and, so far, no bruising. That’s a good sign. Hopefully, with a little ice and some rest, she’ll be good as new. Wrapping the paper towel around the makeshift ice pack, I softly place it on her ankle.

“Raff?”

She says it like she’s unsure, and Elliott Mitchell is never unsure. When I’m brave enough to meet her eyes, I damn near forget every reason I shouldn’t kiss her right now.

Instead, I push my instincts to the background and ask, “What is it, honey bear?”