None of my friends were in sight in the conversation area, so I made a round of the stations on the main floor. They were all occupied and surrounded by the usual groups who liked to watch but none of the were occupied by the omega I sought. I tried not to be too happy about that, since he should get his needs met, but my wolf and I agreed we’d prefer it be by me. Oren and his mate were playing tonight and they always drew a crowd. Their passion came through no matter what they did.
Striker had been with many of the alphas and I’d been with one omega. Would I even have the experience he needed? I didn’t judge those who found ways to get what they needed. Crowned offered that opportunity to those willing to grasp it. Not scening since my mate passed had probably contributed to my inability to move on, but I’d just never wanted to be so intimate with anyone I didn’t love. I couldn’t bring myself to even try.
Passing the door to the hallway with the private rooms, I came back around to the bar and got in line for a drink. If Striker didn’t come tonight, I would try again tomorrow. I hoped for oneoutcome of our next conversation, but there were options. And the decision would be his. To accept me as therapist or mate or nothing at all. That choice would make me very sad.
“Wulf?” I spun to see Oren passing by, his arm around his mate. “We’re just going to aftercare, but there was an omega looking for you. The one with the limp?”
“Is that really how you see him? Just as an omega with a limp?”
“Uh, no. Actually he’s the hot one with the limp but I don’t want to get in trouble with my mate here.”
“I don’t think anything is going to get you in trouble. He’s deep in sub space.” We shared a smile at the pleasure of being able have this effect on someone we cared about. “I’ll go find Striker. You two enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Oren guided Noble toward a comfy chair in a quiet corner for aftercare, while I set off on my quest. Striker was here…somewhere. And he was looking for me.
With that in mind, I set off back in the direction I’d come, headed for the station where I’d seen Oren and Noble. If they’d run into him, he should be along that path, and, sure enough, there he was. Striker wore dark jeans and a tank molded to an upper body that hadn’t suffered much from his breaking training. And when he turned to face me, his lips turned up in a quick smile. “Hello, alpha.”
“Striker, nice to see you. How are you tonight?”
“Doing well, thanks. I was thinking of having a drink.”
“That sounds good.” We went to the bar and found a little table off to the side. We exchanged phone numbers. After a server took our drink orders, we chatted a moment about the crowd and various club things before I prepared to bring up the subject that had been on my mind for a while. But before I could, he gave me an opening.
“Alpha, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a physical therapist with a shifter practice near here.”
“That explains why I felt so much better after you worked on my leg last night. I wondered.”
“Yes, and I wanted to talk to you about that. Your injury is not properly healed, and I would like to offer our services to help you with that. If I’m not being too pushy. Sometimes I do that because I want to help.
“I’m fine. Mostly. And what’s really wrong with me isn’t something you can help with.”
“Maybe I can. What is it.”
Our drinks arrived and we each took a sip before he replied. “I can’t shift since the accident. So even if I still had my speed and strength, which I never will, the tournament would be out of the question.”
I couldn’t imagine how hard that must be, or what to say, but he jumped up, gave me a look of anger and disappointment and ran away.
Oh hell. How could I fix this?
Chapter Ten
Striker
No fucking way. I saw the shift in Wulf’s eyes. I told him everything. How the accident happened. How my life had changed afterward.
The isolation.
The pain.
The overthinking and mental ramifications.
All of it.
But it was when I mentioned not being able to shift anymore, his face changed. His eyebrows bunched. His gentle smile faltered. Even his scent changed.
And that was when I bolted for the door and didn’t look back. My phone felt heavy in my hands with his contact information in it now. All the burden was on me, maybe.
