LOGINSebastian POVMy rear tires screeched on the concrete of the underground loading bay. The black SUV jerked forward, its steel bumper just clearing the closing security gate. I saw camera flashes through the tinted window. The media had tracked us from the practice rink to the tower in under twelve minutes."Stay down, sweetheart," I growled, reaching back over the console.My hand touched the fabric of his team's track jacket. Elliot was shaking. His skin felt hot like iron left in the sun. The air was thick with the smell of clover and boiling honey. He didn't answer. His fingers were locked on the doorknob, his chin pressed tight against his chest.I punched the key card into the private elevator terminal.The heavy steel doors opened with a hiss. I didn't wait for the vehicle to park. I killed the engine, grabbed Elliot, and hauled him out of the passenger side. His boots dragged on the concrete. He was out of balance, his head rolling back against my shoulder."I have you," I said
Elliot POVI was skating behind the net when the edge of my left skate blade caught a deep rut in the slush. My knee buckled. I felt a sharp pain shoot up my thigh. I had to shove my stick against the ice to stay upright. The stick was vibrating badly under my palms."Move the puck, El!" Nathan yelled from the slot.I snapped my wrists. The puck slid through the snow. It bounced a couple of times before it hit Nathan’s tape. Then he fired a shot into the top corner of the net. Pryce just stood there, watching me through his mask. He did not even try to catch the puck.The air in the practice arena was really thick. The fans in the rafters were spinning fast. All they were doing was moving cold air and old sweat around.I took a breath through my mouth. My lungs felt empty. I could not hold the air. I had a taste in my mouth like I had been sucking on a copper coin. My skin was wet under my chest armor. It was not normal sweat. It was cold and greasy, and it smelled like crushed white
Elliot POVThe training facility gym was empty at eleven at night. The big lights overhead were buzzing, casting a white glow over the rubber floor and the steel weight racks.I was sitting on a bench with a heavy iron dumbbell resting against my leg. My shirt was soaked with sweat. The skin around my neck felt tight. The bite mark from Sebastian was still hurting. I had been lifting weights for two hours, trying to get rid of the feeling that was still in my muscles. I was trying to forget the sound of Sebastian's voice in my head.I picked up the dumbbell. Lifted it. My arm was straining. I did one rep, two then three.Then I saw a shadow moving across the mirror in front of me.Pryce was standing in the doorway of the weight room. He was wearing a gray team hoodie with the sleeves cut off and his hands were in his pockets. He was our goalie, and he had played for a few different teams before joining the Wolves. He had a way about him, and he did not smell like much of anything.He
Elliot POVThe wool nest still smelled like pine. The air in the bedroom was getting cold. The gray morning light hit the edge of the mattress. It threw shadows across the floor.I lay flat on my back. My skin was warm beneath the comforter. My neck felt tender. There was a throb reminding me of the teeth marks on my skin. The heat had faded. I felt a heavy fatigue. My limbs felt like lead.Sebastian sat on the edge of the mattress near my hip. He had changed into a black T-shirt. His broad shoulders blocked out the view of the window. He held a glass of water in his hand. His fingers left smudges on the glass."Drink," he said. His voice was low and quiet. It vibrated through the mattress.I reached out. My fingers brushed his knuckles as I took the glass. The brief contact sent a spark straight up my arm. I swallowed the water in three gulps. The cold liquid cleared the taste from my throat."The lawyers called back," Sebastian said. His hazel eyes were fixed on my face. "The six-ga
Sebastian POVThe briefcase hit the floorboards with a heavy thud. It remained unlocked where it fell, the documents inside spilling into the dust. I ignored them. My attention belonged entirely to the dark corner by the radiator. Elliot did not look like the captain of a professional hockey team. He sat small inside the pile, chin resting against his bare knees, blue eyes wide and fixed on my face. The fine silver threads of my destroyed awards jacket were tangled around his knuckles. He remained perfectly still, shoulders tense, waiting for me to speak. The bedroom was silent. The air held a suffocating weight, the thick clover from his skin fighting the bitter pine of my own scent. I did not yell. I did not count the cost of the custom suits rotting on the floorboards. Instead, a strange, dark warmth kicked deep inside my gut. My chest expanded with a sudden pride that made it hard to breathe. My Omega had torn down my closet to build a wall. He had used my clothes to pro
Elliot POV The silence in the penthouse was a physical weight. The suspension hearing in New York had started three hours ago, and my phone sat dead on the kitchen counter. No texts from Kofi. No calls from Sebastian. I paced the length of the living room, my bare feet clicking against the hardwood where the glass had been swept away. My skin was hot. A tight, restless knot coiled in my lower abdomen, distinct from the sharp cramps of the heat cycle. The fever was gone, but it had left a vacuum. My inner Omega was clawing at my ribs, frantic and hollow, demanding a barrier between myself and the front door. The white clover scent in the apartment felt thin, washed out by the cold breeze coming through the plywood board covering the broken balcony window. I stopped in front of the hallway mirror. My neck gland was swollen, a dark purple ring of teeth marks standing out against my skin. The honey aroma coming off my body was sharp, sour around the edges with stress. I needed an







