“Get the hell away from my mom,” Asher shouts, shoving Julius back.
All the anger swirling inside him has made him blind to the fact that he’s screaming at our scent-match. He also doesn’t seem to have realized that she’s just a tiny woman, and he is making an enormous scene. The stunning omega’s mouth opens as if to defend herself, then snaps shut.
“Don’t you ever yell at her again,” Asher shouts, pushing his hands into Julius’s chest. He puffs up, ready to roar, and I rush forward, hoping to de-escalate the scene. Asher’s mother moves faster, grabbing her son and ushering him behind her. Placing herself directly in the angry Alpha’s path to protect him.
My hands reach out for Julius, and relief floods me when the smooth material of his jersey slides along my fingertips. I grab fistfuls and yank him back, putting space between them.
“Calm down,” I bark through gritted teeth. The impact of our bodies clashing seems to knock his brain back online, and his body stills.
Julius’ nostrils flare. “You.”
The scent of sour raspberries and something a little spicy—maybe poppy flowers—swirls around us, emoting anxiety so thick that my inner beast rears up, ready to do serious damage. I growl and focus my rage on what’s upsetting her.
Shoving Julius back, putting myself between them to protect my mate—against my brother. It’s unnatural, so wrong.
The little omega takes advantage of our momentary confusion, grabbing her son’s hand and running out the lobby door. Their feet slap against the ground, making my desire to chase her strong.
Julius pitches forward with a whimper, leaning hard on me as all the air is sucked out of him.
“Mate. She’s our mate,” Julius whispers, and I nod. The dull sound of other parents talking penetrates my fog, and I realize we’re in the midst of a very private moment in averypublic space.
I swallow hard, then look around for a secluded corner.
“Come on.” I push him out of the lobby and away from the crowd. Clearly, we need to have a serious conversation. Make a plan, but right now, there are too many people staring at us, and Julius looks like a stiff breeze would be enough to blow him over.
“She’s the girl from the restaurant. The omega waitress.” His voice cracks, and I watch my packmate break. “I’ve destroyed us… again.”
For a moment, I wonder if we would be better off leaving her alone, keeping our dysfunctional lives to ourselves. But I toss that crazy idea aside almost immediately. Her scent calls to me; she needs us.
She’s ours.
I have to at least try.
“Stay here,” I tell Julius, and the man is so shell-shocked that he just nods, pale as the moon.
Chapter Twelve
Nixie
“Hey! Wait! Slow down!” a voice shouts as Asher and I race across the parking lot. I haven’t come face-to-face with an Alpha that angry in a long time, and all my instincts are urging me to flee.
“Mom.” Asher tugs on my arm. “I think they’re trying to talk to us. Maybe it’s Coach Ray. We need to tell him I need a new mentor.”
I don’t stop, keen to hide in my car, but Asher throws on the brakes. He digs in his heels and gets the mutinous look in his eyes that I know so well. My son isn’t trapped by the swirl of emotions clouding my judgment, or by the fact that my scent-match was in that building.Like an immovable force, Asher slows enough for the man to catch up.
Sweet, sweet hazelnut and chocolate invade my nose, making my mouth water and my heart thump.
Definitely not Coach Ray.
My body freezes. I need to turn around and face him, but I’m afraid if he comes any closer I’ll throw myself at his mercy. Try to soak up his scent. Thankfully, my scent-match stops a fewfeet away, somehow knowing better than to touch me without permission.
Don’t turn around. Maybe he’ll go away.
Our standoff lasts way too long; the pause full of tension. Asher stares at me with questions in his eyes, but I can’t talk or move, completely frozen to the spot. The hazelnut aroma takes on a burnt tinge that finally releases me, replacing my fear with the innate need to soothe my Alpha.
Fuck. Stupid omega biology. But I am more than my hormones.
Whirling around, I turn to face him, determined not to give an inch. But the second I see him, all thoughts fly out of my head. The man is tall, so tall, even without his skates, that I need to crane my neck just to glimpse his face. No longer obscured by a hockey helmet, he looks familiar, but no name immediately comes to mind. I don’t really follow the team. I listen to their exploits only through Asher.
