Chapter 43
Rowan
T he stadium roars with energy, the sound like a constant wave crashing against the shore. I’m leaning forward in my seat, eyes fixed on the ice below, heart racing with every pass, every slap of the puck. Laurent is on fire tonight: aggressive, quick, the game unfolding around him like he’s the one pulling the strings. The New York Knights are winning, and I can’t help but grin with excitement, my pulse matching the rhythm of the game.
Beside me, Sébastien’s presence is a comforting weight. His scent, wild honey, rain, and vanilla, wraps around me like a blanket, making everything feel more intense. But it’s not just him. I can feel the others around us, the Alphas, their scents mingling with Sébastien’s, creating a heady, intoxicating mixture that fills my lungs and makes my head spin.
Even though Laurent is far below, on the ice with his team, I feel his presence in a way I can’t ignore. It’s not just the physical energy of the game, it’s the way his scent lingers in my memory, mingling with the other Alphas’ as they cheer him on from our private box. The mixture of mint, ice, and that raw intensity that comes with every goal he scores. It's like a quiet shadow, following me, even from this distance.
The game intensifies, but my thoughts start to drift. I can't help it. I’m thinking about each of their scents now, each one leaving an impression on my mind that I can't shake. I think about Cole’s warmth, Massimo’s control, Xavier’s strength, and Laurent’s fire. Each of them pulls at me in a way I’ve never experienced before.
I try to focus on the game. The Knights are on a power play, Laurent charging forward, his movements fluid and sharp. I cheer along with the crowd, my excitement building as the puck skates closer to the net. Laurent’s expression is fierce and determined. His scent, distant but still present in my mind, intensifies, bourbon on ice and the primal edge of raw focus. The closer the game gets to its peak, the more their scents cloud my mind, stirring something deep inside me.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. The heat is spreading through me now, my body reacting to their presence in ways I’m struggling to understand. It’s becoming harder to ignore. Their combined scents... It’s like I’m drowning in them.
My skin prickles with need, and I realize, with a jolt of shock, that my scent is starting to bloom in response. A warm, sweet peach and honeysuckle filling the air.
My pulse quickens, the tightness in my lower belly only grows stronger. My thighs shift against the plush fabric of the seat, a small, involuntary motion. I try to calm myself, to tell my body to slow down, but it’s like my instincts have taken over.
Sébastien’s hand brushes mine, his presence next to me like an anchor in this overwhelming storm of sensations. His scent grows thicker, wrapping around me, and that’s when I feel it, the slickness between my thighs, the unmistakable evidence of my body’s reaction to them. The realization hits me like a bolt of lightning, and I blush, mortified by how much I want them all, by how much I can’t stop my body from responding.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, and I can see the way his expression shifts as he notices my discomfort. His scent thickens; wild honey and vanilla, richer, almost primal. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the weight of his gaze on me, and it only makes everything worse. His hand slides over mine, warm and steady, grounding me even as my body betrays me.
But I can’t stop. Not now. Not with their combined scents flooding my senses. Not with Laurent’s energy still rippling through me, even from the ice.
I try to breathe. I try to calm myself, but the heat only builds. And when Laurent scores the game-winning goal, the stadium explodes with cheers, and I can’t stop the soft moan that escapes me. The pressure between my legs is unbearable, and it only makes my scent bloom stronger. I’m slick, and I’m sure everyone can smell it now.
I’m in a haze of need, and I don’t know how to escape it. I feel impossibly warm. Sweat pricks at the middle of my back, causing me to shift uncomfortably in my seat.
My perfume floods the suite, and slick begins to run down the tops of my thighs, having already drenched my panties.