Chapter 24
Carson
Finn is waiting for me. Like he knew one of us would come for him.
The second I step into the locker room, he’s there, dripping wet, leaning against the lockers looking smug as hell about getting past us and cornering our omega in the shower.
I drag in a deep breath, my nostrils flaring to catch her perfume clinging to him. Her scent is everywhere. Clinging to his soaked clothes, mixing with the damp heat of the locker room. Willow. Sweet, rich, and unmistakable. Peaches.
I see red.
“You’re pushing your luck.”
Finn’s lips twitch, the barest hint of a laugh he refuses to give. Amusement flashes in his eyes—this is funny to him. I fucking amuse him.
“You don’t say?” he muses, tilting his head, watching me too closely.
My fists clench at my sides. I should hit him. I should slam him into the wall and make it very fucking clear that this isn’t a game. That he isn’t winning. That he won’t be touching her again.
His tongue darts out, dragging slowly over his lower lip, savoring what isn’t his. My restraint shatters. The lust that slammed into me the moment she stepped out of the locker room—scent ripe, begging, nothing to do with sweat—rips loose.
I close the distance between us before I even think about it.
One second, I’m glaring at him, the next—I have him by the shirt, fisting the wet fabric, shoving him back against the lockers with a metallic clang.
Finn doesn’t flinch.
He doesn’t fight me.
He grins.
“Mmmm, you’re rough, alpha, I like it,” he purrs.
His breath is warm against my lips. Too close. I should walk away. I should end this now. Instead, I drag in another breath—Willow, fucking everywhere—and I lose the fight. I kiss him. Hard. Unforgiving. The way I wanted to kiss her.
Finn groans against my mouth, his fingers curling into my shirt as I take exactly what I want.
Does he taste like her?
Yes.
But also no.
He tastes of obsession and bad decisions, forbidden and addictive, everything I shouldn’t crave but do. For a second, one reckless, dangerous second, I almost deepen it. Almost let myself get pulled under.
But then, I remember who I am. I’m supposed to be protecting Willow from this guy. Not kissing him. Fuck. I yank back, breathing hard, hating myself.
Finn licks his lips, his pupils blown, his smirk downright filthy.
“Well,” he murmurs, “didn’t expect that, but I’m not complaining.”
I hate how much I want to do it again.
I tighten my grip on his shirt, my voice low and threatening. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
Finn hums, unconcerned. Like I didn’t just kiss him and just lose my fucking mind.
“Or what?” he teases. His smirk deepens. “Will you pin me against a wall next time? Fuck me, even?”
I shove him. Hard. One last time before stepping back, forcing air into my lungs, forcing my hands into fists so I don’t grab him again—for all the wrong reasons.
To do exactly what he’s suggesting.
“Stay away from her,” I warn. “You won’t enjoy what happens next time.”
Finn just grins, his gaze fixed on me, victory written in every line.
“I guess I’ll just have to find out.”
The second we exit the rink, Graham is already fuming. His nose is obviously as good as mine.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, rounding on me the second Willow steps away to put her bag in the trunk. “He got to her. Again.”
I roll my shoulders, barely holding back a growl. “Yeah, no shit.”
“And you just let him walk away?”
I freeze.
I was the one to walk away. Finn might still be standing in the locker room for all I know. Not that I’m going to say that out loud. The air between us crackles, but Graham doesn’t back down.
“Tell me why the fuck he’s still out there—walking with two perfectly good legs?”
“Because I wasn’t about to throw down in the middle of a fucking locker room,” I snap, stepping closer. “Because he’s a little unhinged, and he likes it rough. He’d probably think breaking his legs is a fucking confession of love or some shit. You think that would’ve helped?”
Graham’s nostrils flare. “I think it would’ve sent a message.”
Hunter, silent as usual, watches us both; his gaze is perceptive, his jaw tight. He’s on edge too. I look at him, practically pleading for him to interject. To take a side. Damn, Graham is acting like I personally walked Finn into the locker room to wait for her.
He probably climbed through one of those windows, honestly.
“Enough,” Hunter finally says. But Graham isn’t done.
“That fucking psycho is always one step ahead, and we’re just letting him be.”
“Letting him be?” I bite out. “You think I didn’t try to make a point?”
Graham scoffs. “Try harder.”
“Try harder?” I echo, stepping forward. “What the hell do you want me to do, Graham? Hunt him down and gut him in an alley?”
“If that’s what it takes—”
“I LIKE IT! The attention.” Willow’s voice cuts through the argument.
All three of us go still.
I turn, my pulse hammering as she glares between us, hands on her hips, cheeks flushed.
Not with fear.
Not with anger.
With frustration.
“I like his attention,” she says again, daring one of us to challenge her. “I know what Finn is. I know what he wants. But guess what? I’m not a helpless omega. And I like it.”
The parking lot is dead silent, her words hanging between us. Hunter clenches his fists at his sides. Graham exhales sharply through his nose. And I don’t know what to say.
Because I can see how she could like it. Hell, I kissed him instead of punching him. And I liked it too.
Graham works his jaw before finally muttering, “This is a mistake.”
Willow lifts her chin. “That’s my choice to make. Don’t worry, I’ll call my dad and make sure he knows.”
And fuck. That shuts him up. That shuts all of us up.
Because if she convinces her dad that Finn isn’t a threat—and that it’s something she wants to pursue…
She won’t have a need for bodyguards.
And if she doesn’t have a need for bodyguards, we have no reason to be around her twenty-four seven.