Skylar drove us here while blaring music to put us in the mood to deal with this bullshit. For some reason, I have21 Gunsby Green Day replaying in my mind as we wait for Edna to meet us outside of the room.
My new blue suit fits well on my frame, and Rhodes’ eyes keep moving over me possessively since he bought it. I made sure to add blue suspenders and left the neck slightly open. It’s giving fuck off vibes with my Italian leather shoes that Rhodes also bought.
I may not be a clothes horse like he is, but I do have some style.
Rhodes on the other hand is wearing a modest black corset to cinch in his waist over a white shirt and a black suit. His hair is slicked back, his eyebrows are waxed down, and he’s wearing a tiny bit of white eyeliner that makes him appear approachable and eager with his black Chelsea boots.
I swear, the man is a damn witch with his wardrobe.
Edna stops in front of us and looks us over, stopping on Skylar’s suit. It’s a silver color with a longer jacket than normal to make him appear dominant and commanding. His shoes are a pair of pointed loafers, and his hair is artfully tousled.
We dressed for maximum damage control, and Edna’s deep intake of breath shows we accomplished that.
“You three definitely understood the assignment,” she says under her breath. “From head to toe, you dressed for war. Now, let’s keep our heads, gentlemen. Skylar, you’re very good at putting the media in their place. Please use that gilded tongue at will. Koen, soften your jaw. Stop looking like you’re chewing glass, please. And Rhodes, don’t light anyone’s panties on fire.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, smirking. Speaking of panties, I promised to pull his off with my teeth when we get home.
They’re dainty, delicate, and black lace shorts. I swear, he walks around when he’s getting dressed for attention. My stomach is tied up in knots, but I do as Edna says and begin to open and close my jaw to loosen it.
That’s the best I can do until I get home. I think I need to be the filling between my alphas in order to be able to completely relax.
In an effort not to perfume, I clench my asshole and take a deep breath.
“The natives are getting restless,” Edna announces, turning in her high heels and walking into the room.
She commands their attention as she moves the podium, ignoring the groans of the press. We stand around her, our eyes on her as she speaks.
“Thank you for being here. As you may be aware, a private moment between three consenting adults was published without their knowledge or permission,” she begins. “The paparazzi, as they’re called, find their livelihood in stolen moments andsometimes mistakes. However, you cannot call scent matches a mistake as that would fly in the face of Fate, who is a cruel taskmaster. I will give the floor to Rhodes, Skylar, and Koen now. However, please remember that Skylar will not hesitate to verbally spank you if you step out of line.”
Skylar’s lips curl on one side for a brief moment of amusement before sliding away as if it never happened. The press have no idea that he will be their daddy if necessary. Edna has also picked up her crown and remembered who the fuck she is.
I’ll fight management if they fire her after this.
My eyes sweep over the room, waiting for the first question to drop. A woman with a blonde pixie cut raises her hand immediately, and Skylar calls on her to speak.
“It seems a little strange that you’re scent matches yet until recently you’ve been living in another city and playing on another team,” she begins.
“Is there a question somewhere in there, Denise from the Sentinel?" Skylar asks.
I’m terrible with names, so I appreciate Skylar for doing this. It’s also rude that she didn’t introduce herself. What I do remember is that Edna wouldn’t give this girl a leg up if she was on fucking fire. She’s not the golden child in our PR manager’s opinion.
I bet that’s left a bad taste in Denise’s mouth.
“Yes,” she says curtly. “Why did you wait so long to begin courting Koen? Is that what we’re calling this?”
“Since you’re a beta, it’s clear you don’t understand how this works,” Rhodes says with false sympathy. “Scent matching means you have to be close enough to smell them. The ice messes with our senses, the hits can clog our sinuses, and we had no idea who Koen was to us until very recently.”
“Also, people compete on other teams all the time while they’re in a relationship,” Skylar adds. “This is a sport where people can be traded from one day to the next. As hockey players we take nothing for granted, but the second we found out Koen was our scent match, we began to make moves to be traded.”
“Relationships don’t happen on your time table,” I say.
I bite my tongue on anything else I have to say because I don’t want to make an enemy of the press tonight.
“Privacy is something that’s becoming increasingly more difficult to maintain as a hockey player,” Rhodes says, shaking his head. “To be curious is to be human, but that photo has forced us to go public in a time where our pack is getting to know each other. So yes, moving forward you’ll see us being more open with public affection, but you won’t see us thank the blue haired photographer who sold that photo.”
“Any other questions?” Skylar asks with a controlled, clipped smile.
We answer a few more questions before one last hand goes up.
