“She looks cheap anyway. She’d probably run from a real alpha with a real knot,” the alpha mutters, retreating toward the bar.
I start after him again, but Ash’s grip on my arm tightens.
“Stop it. You’re making a scene.” She grabs my fingers and squeezes.
She’s right. Every eye in the box is on us now. Liam is moving toward us, all chill and relaxed looking, which means he’s absolutely not. Alexei saunters over too with undisguised amusement, his arm draped casually around his omega’s waist.
“So cute, you don’t want to be embarrassed in front of your scent match. I remember when I first met my Sandra. I nearly broke man’s jaw for buying her a drink.”
Scent.
Match.
My brain goes completely offline. Nothing but static between my ears. I watch Alexei’s lips move. He’s probably telling the story of meeting Sandra. But none of it registers.
Something happens on the ice that pulls Alexei and everyone else to the windows.
Ash doesn’t move. She looks up at me, and I can’t read the expression on her face. But her scent is gorgeous and thick enough to take a bite of.
“Stupid fucking broken nose.” I mutter. Did she know the second she met me? “Does Beckett know?” I can’t help but ask.
She shakes her head.
“Liam?”
Another shake.
“I do now.” Liam raises his glass to his lips and takes a quick sip. “Question is, are you going to break my face when you find out we both slept with her?”
Fear flashes in her eyes. Her body moves to take a step back. I squeeze her hand and don’t let her. I am never letting go of her. A smile spreads across my face.
Pandemonium breaks out in the box. Alphas are shouting, pounding on the glass. I look out at the arena. A massive fight is breaking out on the ice, emptying both benches.
Chapter forty-two
BECKETT
Theicefeelsgoodtonight.
Cold air cuts through the vents in my helmet as I skate the blue line and watch the play develop below me. The arena is loud enough that the sound presses against my chest with every shift, thousands of people roaring whenever the puck crosses the neutral zone. I should be locked in on the rhythm of it, the way the game narrows down until it is nothing but motion and instinct, but my focus keeps slipping.
Ash is here. In Alexei’s box.
I do not look at it. Not directly. But I know exactly where Alexei’s box is. It’s kind of like ignoring the tape on Pierce’s nose. It draws all your attention if you let it. But she’s here, watching me with Liam and Pierce.
“Back, Beckett!” someone shouts from the bench.
The puck slides toward our zone, and instinct snaps me back into place. I pivot, skate backward, and track the puck down the line. My skates carve a sharp arc into the ice, as I close the gap and force the winger wide. The boards rattle when he dumps the puck deep, trying to push past me.
I turn and chase it down behind the net, already hearing my Deacon shouting the next play. This is the part of the game that usually settles me. The ice stretches open, the chaos narrows into angles and timing, and everything becomes simple. Stop the puck. That’s all I need to know.
Except tonight my brain will not shut up.
Ash sitting up there with Pierce and Liam.
Ash watching the game.
Ash watching me.
