“Still. Embarrassing.”
He shakes his head again and holds up a finger—wait—before going to the kitchenette. I watch through half-lidded eyes as he refills my glass with fresh water, then opens a drawer to pull out two clean dish towels. He runs them under the tap, then returns to the side of the bed to offer one of the towels.
“Thanks,” I say awkwardly, wiping my face down with the towel while he rolls up the other and tucks it against the back of my neck. The cool sensation is immediately soothing. “You’re too nice.”
He tilts his head in confusion, then holds out the glass of water and shakes his head like I’m crazy for thinking this is anything special. I drink greedily, and when I’m finished and feeling slightly more human, I burrow back into the blankets again. He sits on the couch, clearly intending on standing guard again.
"Don't you have things to do?" I ask worriedly, because the thought of him sitting there and watching me sleep is too awkward. "Hockey practice or... whatever it is hockey players do during the day?"
Wade always made itabundantlyclear he was busy with hockey. I’m still pretty sure he was busy with girls, too, but I never had any evidence of that. Just a feeling.
A huff escapes from behind Wraith’s mask. Not quite a laugh, but close enough, and I catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. He signs again.N-O-T-H-I-N-G… I-M-P-O-R-T-A-N-T.
I kind of doubt that, but I decide not to push it. “I just need to rest my eyes for a few minutes,” I say, yawning as I bury my face in the pillow.
The last thought I have as I drift off is that my inner omega really,reallylikes the way the pillow smells.
Because it smells like Wraith.
Shit.
Chapter
Sixteen
THANE
Something's wrong with Wraith.
Our pack bond that usually hums steadily in my chest feels stretched thin, like guitar strings tuned too tight and about to snap.
Whatever he told us about Valek and the tunnels wasn't the full story. But when Whiskey questioned how my brother would know there was nothing in the maintenance tunnels, I backed him without hesitation.
The truth is more complicated.
Wraith spends more time in those tunnels than anyone. Like a phantom haunting the arena's underbelly. If there was an omega down there, he'd know. And if anyonesawan omega down there, he'd deny it. His latent feral nature is fiercely protective when triggered, and something about this situation has all the marks of Wraith in protection mode.
What's eating at me most is the shirt.
It wasn't just torn in the fight. It wasgone. And Wraith would rather die than show his scars in public. So even though it makes zero fucking sense, I can only assume he gave it to someone.
Someone he's protecting.
My phone buzzes. Coach, demanding I come to his office. The guy's already called twice in the past hour, and I've been dodging him while I try to get my head straight.
Can't dodge him forever.
Coach is pacing behind his desk when I push through the door like an angry red crab. "Yourbrother," he spits, clearly remembering our earlier exchange about the word 'foster.' "What the fuck happened with Valek?"
"Like I said before. Valek was exploring the tunnels. Wraith was down there. They surprised each other, and shit escalated."
"Escalated." Coach's eyes narrow. "To the point where our brand-new winger ended up concussed before his first practice."
"Valek provoked him."
"Just like Daniels provoked him?"
"Exactly like that."
