All Chapters of Twin Aces: Claimed by the Alpha Captain (MM Romance): Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Lucian POVI don’t sleep. Not really. I close my eyes, lie still, and breathe evenly, but my mind refuses to quiet, and my body doesn’t forget. The cold room, his presence, and the way everything inside me quieted when I leaned into him, those are the problems. It is not the heat, not the suppressants, and not the risk. It is him.By morning, I already know what I need to do: distance, even if I have to force it. Practice feels louder than usual, not because anything is wrong, but because everything feels sharper. The scrape of skates, the crack of sticks, and the echo of voices bouncing off the rink walls all hit too hard, as if my senses haven’t settled back into place. Or maybe they won’t.I step onto the ice and avoid looking at him deliberately. I don’t check his position or track his movement. I refuse to let my attention drift toward that pull I can’t seem to shut off anymore. Focus. Game. Control. It works for about ten minutes, until I feel it. It is not touch or sound; it is

Orion POVLucian acts as if nothing happened. That is the first thing I notice when he steps onto the ice: there is no hesitation, no tension in his shoulders, and no shift in his posture. He moves like he always does—controlled, precise, and unreadable. His skates cut clean lines across the ice, his passes are sharp, and his focus is locked forward as if yesterday never existed. He acts as if I did not corner him in that hallway, as if I did not touch him, and as if I did not kiss him.I watch him from across the rink. He does not look at me once, not even by accident. It is deliberate; I can tell. Most people would not notice; they would see the same Lucian Virek, the quiet and disciplined rookie who keeps his head down and his game clean. But I know the difference now. There is a fraction of a second missing, a hesitation he has removed, and a distance he is forcing. I understand what he is doing; he is trying to put us back the way we were.The problem is that I cannot."Run it ag

Lucian POVI do not sleep. Again.The room is dark but not quiet, not really. There is the low hum of the building, the faint sound of traffic far outside, and his breathing. It is even. I lie on my side facing the wall, staring at nothing. My eyes are open, but I am not seeing anything in front of me. I am thinking about numbers, outcomes, and consequences, about what I stand to lose. My place on the team, my secret, and everything I built just to stand on that ice are all at risk. And then there is what I have already lost: control, distance, and the ability to pretend he does not matter.My chest tightens because the truth is simple. I can still walk away. I haven't crossed the line fully, not yet. But my body and my thoughts are already leaning, already choosing, and I do not know what that means. I sit up slowly. The room tilts slightly, then steadies. Across from me, Orion has not moved. He is still on his bed, still facing the ceiling, and still breathing like that, controlled,

Lucian POVI wake up before him, and while that should not matter, it does. For a few seconds, I forget where I am. Then I feel it: the warmth behind me is close and steady; he is not touching me, but he is there. I do not move or turn. I just lie there and stare at the wall while being aware of every inch of space between us, half an inch, or perhaps less. My chest rises slowly in a careful and controlled manner because even now, after everything, I do not know what this is supposed to be or what to do with it. However, I do not move away, and that is the part I cannot ignore.I get up first, being quiet and careful not to wake him, though I am not sure he is actually asleep. He has a way of staying still that makes it hard to tell. The room feels different in the morning; it is less intense and less heavy, but it is not normal, not anymore.I move toward the small counter where the coffee machine is already set up from yesterday. It is a simple routine that I understand. I start mak

Lucian POVThe room is quiet. There is no practice, no schedule, and no noise outside the steady hum of the building. It is a rest day. I should feel relieved, but instead, I feel restless, as if something inside me does not know how to stop moving. I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at my gear bag across the room. I have not touched it since yesterday, since everything, since him.That thought lingers longer than it should. I exhale slowly and stand. I move toward the bag and unzip it to see the contents. Most of what is inside is new, clean, and maintained equipment that belongs to someone who actually made it here. But buried at the bottom is something else.I pull out my old skates. They are heavier than I remember. They are scuffed and worn, with cracked leather and dull blades whose edges are uneven from years of use and neglect. They do not belong here anymore, and yet, I sit down with them across my lap anyway. My fingers trace the laces, which feel rough and familiar. Jus