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Roman

I stand frozen, watching my Beta mate—Dakota—transform before my eyes into something else, something Omega. His face twists, pain etched into every line, but I know enough about this shit to clock it’s not just hurt—it’s need, a bone-deep craving for pleasure that’s got him unraveling.

Holt’s beside me, brown eyes wide and hilariously lost, as Dakota claws at his clothes, tugging his jacket off with shaky hands. “Kota, easy,” Holt grunts, trying to keep it together, but the air’s thick with it now—lavender swirling with vanilla sugar and my own citrus tang, undercut by Holt’s rich mahogany. Dakota lets out little grumbles and whines, needy sounds that hit me harder than anything else has, until Holt’s fully naked, shirt and sweats in a heap on the floor.

Then the most glorious thing happens. Dakota stumbles forward, and bends over the bare mattress, hands splaying wide on the thin fabric. His sweats are yanked down, and there it is—a glistening, slick-soaked hole staring back at us, slick dripping down his thighs in shiny trails. I lick my lips as the full punch of his arousal slams into me, his scent boldening until it’s all I can breathe. My cock throbs, straining against my jeans, but I know I can’t satisfy him like this, not any better than Maya could.

Holt’s voice cracks through the haze, rough with desire. “Holy fuck, this was not what I was expecting.”

Dakota growls, a frustrated edge to it, hips shifting like he’s begging, our Alpha stalking over as his instincts start to kick in. He pauses, glancing back at me. “Go check on Maya. I have no idea how to explain any of this to her, but just make sure she’s okay.”

Despite my need to be in this room, there’s also that need—to check in on Maya, to figure out what she’s feeling, to soothe her worries, to give her what she wants, needs, craves. I reach down to adjust myself, slipping out into the hall but not before I catch it, though—Holt lining up and sliding into Dakota’s waiting hole with a wet sound that makes my gut clench. Dakota lets out a loud, broken moan muffled by the door when I close it, and I wonder, half-dazed, when it’ll be my turn to fuck him sloppy, to feel that slick heat gripping me.

Shaking off that thought, I take the few steps to Maya’s door, hoping and praying she’s in there. It swings open fast, hardcore music spilling out—some thrashing guitar riff that rattles the walls. She’s there, flushed and fidgeting, her tank top clinging to her chest where Dakota left it damp. Her vanilla sugar scent hits me, spiked with arousal, but it’s overshadowed by terror, her dark eyes wide and uncertain. She steps aside, letting me in. “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” I ask, voice rougher than I mean it. “This isn’t your fault.”

She hugs her arms around herself, sweatpants loose on her hips. “But he came here,” she insists. “I called as fast as I could.”

I sigh, hating that this is our first real conversation—just me and her, no ice, no puck, no Dakota bridging us. She’s gorgeous, all fierce edges and soft curves, but she’s not reacting right. That Omega heat scent next door? It’s suffocating, intoxicating, a wet dream in pheromone form, but she’s just standing there, embarrassed, not melting under it like she should. “I came to make sure you’re okay,” I tell her, stepping closer. “That’s a lot to handle for anyone.”

She offers me a small, shaky smile. “Not sure how I feel. I could be better. It could be worse,” she admits, then adds, “But you should go to your Omega.” Her scent sours, a bitter twist cutting through the sugar, and I try to puzzle it out. Dakota’s told me about her—years of stories, her laugh, her fire—but she doesn’t know me, doesn’t get my obsession with her through him.

I sigh again, softer this time. “We don’t own him. He’s yours too. He always has been, even before us. That’s never changed. He’s never stopped talking about you.”

She shakes her head, curls bouncing, countering my argument, “That was when he was a Beta. If he’s an Omega, all that changes. I can’t have him, and that’s not what this was. I’m not trying to take him from you. He’ll need you— both of you.”

God, I want to shake her and make her see it—how Dakota’s still hers, how we could all fit. Then my gaze drops to her bare shoulder, the tank strap slipped down, and I see it—a rough, jagged scar on her neck. Dakota told me about the surgery but seeing it has me pissed off at the Alpha that fucked her over. I was privy to one or two of those drunken calls in the last year and while she hadn’t been speaking to me, I could hear the raw emotion in her voice so strongly that it felt like it was my pain to bear.

She doesn’t know all of that and it’s why it makes it so much harder not to just drag her against my chest and hold her.

“Hey, you don’t have to cover up for me. I’m not angry with you, or whatever it is you think I am. The three of us—me, Dakota, Holt—we’ve always had this open type of relationship, even after you left school. Holt doesn’t mind.”

She snorts, her nose scrunching up in protest. “Seriously? Everything changes with an Omega. Holt’s going to be territorial over his mate. He’s not going to want a Beta he doesn’t know anywhere near his Omega, especially not in the beginning. I’m not even sure why you’re okay with it.”

Her words sting because in a normal world, I’d be furious at the fact that Dakota sought her out rather than me or Holt. But she’s mine just as much as she’s Dakota’s, which means I’m fucking ecstatic that he found her safe. It doesn’t help that I’m shit at hiding my emotions—always have been—and I know she’s clocking the way her vanilla sugar scent is twisting me up. She throws her hands up, exasperated, then snags a hoodie from the bed, yanking it over her head. The fabric swallows her frame, hiding that scar. “I don’t even know you. It makes sense with Dakota, I guess. But you? How is that possible?”

I try not to get distracted, but fuck, she’s so pretty when she’s flustered—cheeks flushed, curls spilling wild, eyes blazing with that mix of fire and fear. “Just because we’ve never talked, that doesn’t mean I don’t know who you are.”

“Because you know who my father is? He coached the Hawks so you’ve heard all the stories, know all about me and my life.”

I shake my head, stepping closer, really needing her to understand. “You’re so much more than your father’s daughter. Even if it wasn’t for how often Dakota talked about you—how strong you are, how you’ve fought like hell to be standing right here—I saw you four years ago. You were the only person I wanted in those stands.”

Her breath catches as I barrel on, words spilling out. “We’re all fucking this up, aren’t we? Holt told us not to ambush you, but Dakota presenting as an Omega and telling you that I want you probably isn’t it, is it?”

Her nostrils flare, a flicker of desire mixing with confusion and a tad bit of fear, but I feel it—the pull, the heat, her need even if she’s fighting it. “Holt’s your Alpha, right?” I nod, about to explain further but she holds up a hand, cutting me off, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Why don’t you see this as weird? And if you say it’s because we’re mates… I just… no, look, I was going to tell Dakota but didn’t get around to it. They’re giving me an opportunity, a position as the assistant coach, which means hands off. It doesn’t matter what any of this means.” Her hands flail through the air, gesturing to whatever fuckery just happened in the last hour but I know the rules—interpersonal relationships on the team are fine, Northvale’s lax about that shit.

I don’t say it, though; she’s not ready to hear that as an excuse. Instead, I ask a different question. “Are you telling me you’re taking the job because you really don’t feel anything, or because you want to prove to yourself that you don’t?” That’s a selfish ass question and I’ll beat myself up for it later but I’ve waited four years to talk to her and that’s what made it out first. Holt says I have a foot in mouth problem. I’m inclined to believe him.

She lets out a little growl, her hands fisted at her sides. “Does it matter?” Her breathing quickens, chest rising fast, and she steps back, cradling the side of her neck where that scar hides under the hoodie. Her eyes go wide, her other hand flailing out, searching for something to grasp, something to steady her. I move forward, offering my hand, something she takes without hesitation, her grip tighter than I expected. I hold still, waiting, letting her breathe through it, her vanilla scent softening as she calms.

I don’t know what set her off but watching her panic is tearing at my heart. Whatever she’s doing to calm herself isn’t working so I hesitantly take another step forward, reaching up to cup her cheek with my free hand. She leans into the touch, just a fraction, even though I can still see the terror flickering in her gaze, a storm she’s barely holding back. “Breathe with me,” I murmur, “there you go. Keep breathing with me.” I inhale slow and deep, exhaling the same, and she mirrors me, her chest rising and falling in time. My other hand stays wrapped around hers, fingers laced tight, and the trembling in her grip eases, the panic fading from her. “Mates are never an easy thing to digest. They don’t wait to fit nicely into your life, and they make a whole hell of a lot more things complicated when you’re not looking for them.” Her eyes flicker, searching mine, and I keep going, knowing that this might be my only chance. “I’m not asking you to give me a chance, or even Dakota. That’s not why I’m in here. I’m here to make sure you’re okay because I know you’re just as terrified as I am watching Dakota fall apart like that. He was in pain, Maya. He needed something neither one of us could give him. His entire life is about to change, and neither of us is going to be enough. That’s why I’m in here.”

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away, so I press on. “Do I want you? Absolutely. Do I wish we would’ve met differently? Yes. Do I care that by the end of the week, you might be my coach? No, I don’t. Holt’s the skill coach and it didn’t stop me or Dakota.” She lets out a heavy breath, a shaky exhale that brushes my wrist, her vanilla sugar scent softening, less sour now. I drop my hand from her cheek but keep holding hers, squeezing gently. “Let me walk you over to Dakota’s room,” I offer, “so you don’t have to deal with their loud asses.”

That brings out a smile but she shakes her head anyway. “It’s okay, I can stay in here and…”

Her voice trails off, uncertain, but she has no idea how loud they can be and how thin these walls are. “Babe, that music is not going to drown out shit, and as terrified as you are seeing Dakota like that, I also know it’s painful hearing it.” I nod toward the door, where a muffled whine seeps through the wall, Holt’s growl rumbling beneath it. “Come on,” I coax, “Dakota’s room is tucked in the corner of the second floor at Frostbite Hall. You’ll sleep like a baby with all those damn pillows he collects. Jesus, I’m not sure why I didn’t pick up on this shit earlier.”

Her brow furrows, and she hesitates, still rooted to the spot, but then something softens in her—a flicker of surrender, maybe. “He made a nest?”

“Shit, he’s been collecting for months, just telling us he had to have them. And now it makes so much more sense.” A grin tugs at my lips. “I can’t wait to watch him try to make a pillow fort or something.”

“That’s not how it works, Roman,” she pushes out but it feels like she’s finally giving in, even just a little. I know we have a damn long way to go but I’ll take the inch I get tonight.