Page 2

Chapter Two

“ C ome on, Miller the Killer,” Owen, my childhood best friend and a giant pain in my ass, jests from across the field. My eyes narrow at the stupid nickname, but it’s not enough to ruffle my feathers, so I ignore him and return to my pre-game stretching.

“Quads, then hammies, knees, and toes—knees and toes,” I hum as I work through lengthening each muscle and trying to collect my mental fortitude for the game ahead. It’s a silly ritual. The childhood nursery rhyme has gotten me ragged on more times than I can count, but I don’t give a fuck. My dad taught me to stretch with it way back in little leagues when I first started playing t-ball, and I’ve done it ever since .

He’s been gone a long time, but something about the song helps me feel his spirit surround me before each game.

If he could only see me now.

A rush of sadness makes me gulp—there’s no time for melancholy Miller to rear his head today.

A loud whistle snaps my attention toward the pitcher’s mound, where Crimson is dancing around Owen and acting like a fool. Shaking my head at their antics, I take up my spot behind the home plate and crouch down for some practice throws.

A warm breeze drifts my way, fanning my face under the catcher’s mask, and for a second, I detect the faintest whiff of cotton candy on the breeze. It draws my attention away from the moment, and Owen takes his shot to drill the ball home. The baseball whooshes, and I snap back, managing to catch it, but I fall hard on my ass in the process.

Pain shoots from my tailbone up my spine, but I shake it off, clenching my thighs and bouncing back onto my feet.

“Fuck. Sorry!” Owen shouts, taking off his cap and slapping it against his legs.

“Pay attention, Killer,” Crimson jokes, jogging over to check-in.

“You all right?” Damien, another member of Pack Moore, asks, stepping up to the plate for a few practice swings to loosen up before the game. Three out of four of their pack members are on the team—Niko, their fourth is never around, but he’s a good guy. Owen’s been my best friend since before we could walk, but the others have become my brothers over the years.

They’re constantly asking me to pack up with them.

I wish it were that easy .

“Yeah. I’m…” A prickle of awareness runs down my spine, and my heart beats faster. Scanning the stands, I search for the source of the sensation. Her presence looms, stealing my breath away. My eyes water, but I can’t blink until I spot her, my anxiety coils like a rope about to snap.

Finally, they land where they need to. My Puff.

She’s a vision; delicious curves encased in ripped jeans and a light pink shirt with our team logo splashed across the front. Curves I dream of nightly. Her long, shiny brown hair is up in a braid that hangs over her shoulder, falling just over the ripe swell of her breast. My mouth goes dry, and my eyes bulge, not wanting to stop looking for even a second.

“Miller?” Crimson asks, quirking his eyebrow. “You get a concussion from falling on your ass? Is that where your brain’s been hiding?”

Damien scoffs, hiding his laugh with a cough, then smacking his bat on home plate.

“Let’s do this. I need to loosen up my shoulder. My goal is five home runs this game.” He swaggers around like a preening peacock, looking for a laugh. The big Alpha has a colossal ego—but most of its bluster; though he’s capable of great things.

“Yeah. Okay,” I agree, squatting back down. Unable to stop my eyes from flicking back up to Posie. She’s chatting with her friends, a big smile on her face now, and I’m able to relax a fraction, though I wish she would head up to sit in the family box where she’s supposed to be. “Owen, why is Posie behind the dugout?”

He shrugs and winds up for a pitch. His hand arcs back behind him, gripping the white-and-red ball, before snapping forward and releasing it with precision. The ball flies toward home plate, spinning in a perfect curveball.

Flexing my mitt, I prepare for impact, but the familiar crack of Damien’s bat sounds in my ear, and the ball sails out into the field. Nice.

“Another,” Damien demands, and Owen winds up again. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, causing my eyes to dart over to my obsession. Something’s wrong. I can feel it, and my Alpha instincts demand satisfaction.

Oh. Hell. No.

Rage. Pure, unfiltered fury lodges itself in my chest, and my inner Alpha loses all sense of decorum. I vaguely feel a ball hit me in the leg, but something primal has completely taken over.

Must kill.

Must maim.

Must destroy.

The field blurs. My arms bunch, hauling me over the railing, and before my mind catches up with my body, I’m in the stands.

“Miller! Sign an autograph! Can I take a selfie? Look here!”

It’s all white noise. Barely audible over the screaming in my mind. Fans swarm me, but I shove them out of the way.

Must get to her.

Someone grabs my arm, and I release a feral roar.

“POSIE.”

Time stands still, my heart thunders. Her chocolate-brown eyes, filled with agitation, find mine.

The soon-to-be corpse who’s currently tugging on her thick braid gives me a cocky smirk. Stalking forward, I climb the stairs three at a time, staring him down like the Grim Reaper. And he must see the murder in my eyes because he drops her hair like it’s suddenly burned him. The piece of shit raises his hands, then stares at the ground in submission.

Pathetic.

I reach the area where Posie and her friends are, chest heaving, heart pounding. Snatching her, I cup her face, instantly calming at having her soft skin against my palms. Her cheeks are rosy, from embarrassment or lust, I can’t tell, and her eyes fill with wonder. Tumbling, I fall into their dark depths.

My nostrils flare, needing to catch a read on her emotions, but she’s wearing those infernal scent blockers, and I can barely detect the cotton candy that hides beneath them. No one else would guess it was coming from her, but that’s good since it’s only for me. I suck it in, needing it like a drug.

“Did he hurt you?” I snarl, preparing for battle. The little fucker shifts awkwardly, glancing toward the opening like he’s thinking of pulling a runner. He should. I pierce him with an icy glare that pales his face and causes him to fidget, unsure what to do.

“What the fuck is going on?” a familiar voice asks from behind me before a pair of hands try to tug Posie from my grip.

A vicious, primal growl rips from my chest.

No. Mine. Die.

“Dude. Chill. It’s just us,” Crimson says, wiggling into the aisle. He lets go instantly, but his curious gaze and Owen’s frown are like a bucket of ice-water crashing over my head. Shuddering, I shake it off.

What are you thinking ?

The rest of the world filters in, and my Alpha haze recedes. Security guards line the area, and the weight of all the curious onlookers’ stares slams into me. Uncurling my fingers takes monumental effort, but I unglue them and release my sweet girl.

“He was harassing her.” My jaw locks so hard that pain shoots from my teeth to my temple. Breathing through my nose, I try desperately for even a hint of her scent, but Posie steps back, and her friends surround her.

“I wasn’t,” the dead man pipes up. “I’m just an Alpha asking an omega on a date. She doesn’t have a bite. And I didn’t know she was yours,” he explains rapidly. “Wouldn’t have expected you to want a fat omega. You could do better.”

The insults make me see red again, and I lunge for him, but Owen gets there first.

Hauling the man onto his tippy toes, Owen gives him a rough shake, and he’s lucky that’s as far as it gets before security pushes in to break them apart.

“Let’s go. We have a no molestation policy,” one guard insists, ushering the pack of dirtbag Alphas down the steps—and hopefully right out of the stadium. As we watch their backs disappear, I can’t help the disappointment at not making them bleed for their insults and actions.

“Posie. What the hell?” Owen asks, exasperation lacing his tone. “You know you’re supposed to be up in the owners’ box, not out in the crowd if Mom and the dads aren’t here.” Yeah, that’s right. My head nods in solidarity, and Puff’s eyes narrow at me.

Ship her up top, Owen .

“The box is way up there. This is where all the action is! You can see so much better down here,” she cries, her hands dropping to her hips as she squares off with her brother. Posie is certainly not a demure omega who’s happy to be steamrolled by the Alphas in her life.

“You’re unmated. It’s not safe,” he scolds under his breath, aware of just how many cameras are pointing our way.

“I’m also an adult who’s out with her friends. No one asked you to come running to my rescue. I was dealing with the issue.” Her eyes flash fire, and damn if it doesn’t turn me on. My cock thickens, but I can’t afford the distraction before a game.

Knowing Owen will take it from here, I turn and walk back down to the field… leaving my heart behind in the stands. My Alpha tugs at me to turn around and claim her—to stop hiding my feelings. But her brother is my best friend, and her parents are as important to me as my own were…

Grabbing the railing, I vault down onto the field as a whirlwind of emotions swirls through me. I won’t be able to hide from this much longer.

It’s becoming far too painful to deny fate. That fickle bitch.