Acid churns in my gut, memories assaulting me. My father’s cruel words, his fists flying, and me always having garbage equipment. I project the images onto Asher, vowing that I won’t let this go unspoken.
Unpunished.
When I was his age, no one stood up for me… But I won’t let the same thing happen to him.
Chapter Eleven
Vonn
Adull roar fills the locker room, the excited chatter of the kids talking about their practice. Skates and pads are strewn everywhere, and the coaches hustle around, trying to shove everything into bags. It’s time for the kids to go home, and I, for one, am exhausted. But also completely jazzed up and ready to see if I can meet Ms. Heaven-Scented Raspberry.
I slip off my skates and keep my head on a swivel, looking for Julius. Eagerness has been simmering since I locked eyes with the beauty, but she bolted right out the door. I’m pretty sure she’s my mate…ourmate and he needs to know. She left before I could get her info, but since all the kids are still here, she’s bound to turn up.
Please.
It’s concerning that she already has a kid, which usually means that an omega has a pack. But we’re her scent-matches, so that has to mean something, right? Marilyn wouldn’t send us here to fall in love with a woman who’s already happily packed up… At least I hope not. If she did, that would be some seriously fucked-up shit.
My worry grows as I look for Julius, but it gets even worse when I find him. Thunderclouds look less ominous than his expression right now, and I hurry over to see what’s wrong.
“Everything okay?” He’s already halfway out the door, so I jog to catch up. Thanks to all our conditioning, I don’t even break a sweat, even after two hours on the ice.
“No, everything isnotall right,” he snarls.
Cool.
“What happened? Were the kids assholes? We expected them to be, but it looked like you were doing some pretty good drills. One of those kids seemed really fast.” Whenever I looked over at Julius, he seemed completely absorbed in what he was doing. He wasn’t smiling or anything, but nothing seemed out of place. Myself, I had a good time. One of my kids was a bit of a jerk, but the other one wasn’t too bad. Most importantly, they were both pretty dedicated to the sport.
“My kid has deadbeat parents, and they need to be taught a lesson,” Julius growls, the anger radiating off him in waves that shock even me. The lobby looms ahead, and if I don’t want there to be a major PR catastrophe, I need to figure out how to calm him.
My heart pounds faster, knowing there’s not much that can stop an angry Alpha.
“I think I scented our mate,” I blurt out, hoping the distraction of hearing about our scent-match might stop him from a calamity, but I fear it won’t matter anyway. When Julius gets something in his mind, especially a wrong that he needs to right, it’s impossible to change his mind.
His feet stumble, and he whirls around to face me. His eyes narrow.
“Don’t bullshit me. You’re not going to change my mind.” Parents are milling around in the lobby, as we knew they would be. Coach Ray told us we would need to chat with the parentsoccasionally after the sessions to let them know how their kids were doing, and how we were preparing them for the exhibition, so they’re standing around eagerly waiting to talk.
“Which of you does Asher belong to?” Julius roars, his face red, eyes flashing with rage. The parents all turn at the sound of his voice, glancing at each other. No one claims him, which seems odd considering he clearly has the most talent. Usually, parents of gifted kids are ready to boast about them at the drop of a hat.
“Come on, admit it. Which of you had the nerve to send your kid onto the ice in broken skates?” A small woman shoves her way to the front of the crowd. She pants as if she’s just run a mile. I can’t take my eyes off her as Julius continues to rant, “His pads don’t fit; they’re trash, and his helmet is more likely to give him a concussion than to protect him from one.” Green eyes, luminous with unshed tears, stare in horror at my packmate as she walks forward, swallowing hard.
The crowd parts around her, leaving her standing alone, hugging her arms across her waist.
Fuck. No.
Bile rises in my throat. This is like watching a car crash and having no ability to stop it.
The boys all filter into the lobby, Asher among them, and his jaw locks when he hears Julius. But I can’t focus on him, because pungent sour raspberries fills my nose completely. I home in on the distressed scent, realizing it’s emanating from the tiny green-eyed omega, who looks like the spitting image of her son.
I elbow Julius in the ribs as hard as I can, jutting my chin toward the tiny woman. Maybe his nose isn’t working, because he stomps forward like a raging bull. She draws back, but no one in the crowd moves to protect their woman. In fact, no one says a word in her defense.
Where is her pack?!?
I’m too slow on my feet, and I let out a curse. My packmate is already looming over the woman, well over a foot taller, spewing his angry vitriol.
I need to get there. To protect my mate.
But before I can jump between them, Asher’s there. The eleven-year-old dives between Julius and his mother, pure loathing in his eyes. The poor kid has gone from hero worship to hatred in the blink of an eye, and I hate the crestfallen look on his face.
