Chapter 1 #2
He isn’t hulking—built more for speed than brute strength, the lean strength of a swimmer’s build—but the bathroom feels smaller with him inside it, average height or not.
His dark hair falls carelessly across his forehead, framing a face that shouldn’t look this composed when he’s cornered me the way he has.
His fingers slip into his pocket. He draws out his phone. A flicker of motion as he focuses on the screen. A muted click.
A camera flash.
He shows me his screen, my face taking up the whole thing, before he flips it back to himself.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes trained on the picture instead of me.
Something cold slithers down my spine. He looks up, blue eyes calculating.
“What do you want?” The words leave my mouth steady, though my pulse is anything but.
His brow furrows, as if confused by my reaction. The silence stretches, thick and stifling. I take a step back, bumping into the sink. Cool porcelain meets my palms as I grip it, fingers tightening. My mind runs through options—any way to get out of here.
It’s ridiculous. Normally, I’m not afraid of him. Not even close. But locked in a bathroom, with no one else around? That’s different. Very different.
“Don’t be scared,” he whispers. Soft—velvet over steel.
His scent slips in after, woodsy and clean, the very breath of air that comes before dawn. Muted in this space, but still enough to tease, to pull at my senses.
I try to steady my breathing, calculating an escape. When he’s just a fan in the crowd, he’s harmless. But here, in this room, there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. Something dangerous.
He twists his lips into a reluctant smile. “I can see I went about this all wrong.” He shrugs, casual. “I do that sometimes.”
His calm, measured movements don’t put me at ease. They do the opposite.
I can smell the shift in my own scent, fear spiking, souring the peach as it seeps out of my pores. I raise a hand instinctively, pressing my fingers against his chest as he steps closer. The only warning I have.
“Don’t,” I breathe.
He exhales my name, a prayer coming from his lips. “Jinx.”
His gaze drinks me in, deliberate and slow. He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring slightly. If he catches the fear curling off me, he doesn’t mention it. Some betas can’t smell omega perfume at all, so it wouldn’t be shocking if he can’t.
“Congratulations on winning today,” he says, making it sound normal. As if this is any other conversation, and he hasn’t pulled me into a bathroom with him.
“Finn—”
His face lights up.
“You know who I am.” He’s crazy. That’s the only explanation for whatever this is. He tilts his head, studying me, as his dark hair flops over his forehead. “It’s nice of your father to let you skate.”
My blood chills.
“I’ve studied Mr. Delong,” he continues. “Brilliant businessman. And the strength it must have taken to move on after losing your mother…” he trails off, shaking his head. “But you know all about that, don’t you? Moving on after losing someone so important…”
He’s more than just a fan. He knows me. Not just Jinx, but Willow Delong. Not even my teammates know my real name, or if they do, they don’t use it.
I go still, as if being motionless will make me invisible. If I could crawl into the sink, slide down the drain, and disappear into the walls—I would.
His knuckles skim my cheek, featherlight. My stomach jumps at the contact.
“Your skin is flawless. I could touch you all day.”
A whimper escapes my throat, unbidden. He shushes me, trailing his fingers down the curve of my throat. He twirls a lock of pink hair around his finger, considering it.
“This suits you.”
He runs his finger along my collarbone, pausing when he reveals the mark Landon left on my throat. My skin tingles as he traces it, an unreadable expression pulling at his brows.
“This is new,” he says, bringing his eyes up to mine.
I swallow but don’t say anything.
“A mistake on your trip?”
I wince. He’s right. It was a mistake to let my scent match bite me, especially after only knowing him less than a week. But there is no way Finn would know any of that, even if he definitely knew I went on a trip.
“Yeah,” I finally say when he just continues to study me. “A mistake.”
He hums out a sound that carries understanding. “If I were an alpha—there would be no mistake like that—” His dark blue gaze lingers, holding me as though I’m something precious, something worth keeping.
My heart slams behind my ribcage, faster than it ever does when I’m skating.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He shifts his weight, shoulders dipping slightly, gaze flicking away before finding mine again.
I don’t believe him; I think he wanted my attention. His fingers circle my throat, tilting my face up with a press of his thumb under my chin. A light hold that would be hot instead of terrifying if I were here willingly.
“I just need another picture for my collection,” he whispers. “One I can’t get from far away.”
My breath catches. Words form before dying in my throat.
His eyes darken even more.
At some point, my fingers curled into his shirt. I don’t know if I’m holding him closer…or ready to shove him away. My body doesn’t know either.
“You’re an oddity in roller derby. Omegas don’t play. Not like you do.” His gaze glows with something raw. “I knew you were special the moment I saw you.”
The camera lifts again. Another flash.
“Finn.”
He shudders. Eyes flutter shut, his long lashes brushing his cheeks.
“Say it again,” he whispers.
His fingers tighten slightly when I don’t immediately comply. My pulse pounds against his touch. And I don’t know if it’s fear, adrenaline, or something far more dangerous curling in my chest. Another bad decision waiting to be made, but I part my lips and breathe out, “Finn.”