“No.” He jerks his thumb toward the tunnel. “You’re done for the night. Go get checked out.”
The anger spikes so fast I have to clamp my jaw to keep from snapping back. The arena is roaring, the team is pushing for a win, and he is telling me to walk away from it.
“I said I’m fine.”
“And I said you’re done.”
He doesn’t raise his voice. That’s how I know the decision is final.
For a moment, I consider arguing harder. The energy of the game still surges through my veins, and every instinct in my body says to jump the boards and get back out there.
Then the throbbing at the base of my skull pulses again.
Coach notices the flicker in my expression.
“Tunnel,” he repeats.
I exhale slowly and push away from the boards.
The rubber flooring replaces the ice beneath my skates with a dull thud as I step through the opening. The sound of the arena follows me for a few seconds, and then the concrete walls swallow it.
My shoulders are still buzzing from the hit. My hands flex restlessly at my sides as the adrenaline drains into frustration.
I shove the thought away and push open the locker room door.
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead as I step inside. The team doctor looks up from the bench and gestures for me to sit. I drop down and lean forward, still wired, still angry, already running the math on whether I can talk my way back onto the ice before the third.
The game is still raging out there.
I wonder, briefly, if the lights in here have always been this bright.
Chapter forty-three
PIERCE
Scentmatch.
I stare at Ash, at her wide eyes reflecting the same shock I feel buzzing through my veins. Her peach scent winds around me, through me, claiming territory I didn’t know existed.
How did I miss this?
My broken nose. Fucking broken nose kept me from knowing what was right in front of me. I want to laugh, scream, drag her against me and breathe her in until there’s nothing left of me but the space she fills.
Mine.
My omega.
Every primal instinct I’ve been fighting suddenly makes perfect sense.
Behind us, the arena erupts. A fight has broken out on the ice, benches emptying. The alphas in the box press forward, drawn tothe violence like moths to flame. Their collective scent thickens. Someone knocks into me, jostling Ash, and I swallow back a growl. The guy doesn’t even notice, too fixated on the brawl below.
“Fuck,” Liam mutters, squinting at the ice. “I’m going to check what’s happening.” His eyes dart between me and Ash, something like concern passing over his face. “Pierce…”
“Go,” I tell him. “We’re fine.”
He hesitates, then nods once. “I’ll be right back.” He touches Ash’s elbow lightly. “Don’t let him do anything stupid.”
Then he’s gone, slipping through the crush of bodies toward the exit. And I feel unsteady like all my anchors to reality are cut. Without him, the tension between Ash and me crackles like a live wire.
