Chapter 27
Willow
“You didn’t answer my text, Jinx,” Daisy says as she laces up her skates next to me. “I’m feeling ignored.”
I glance over at her, before my gaze tracks back—again—to my three jailers.
I’m honestly surprised they even let me come to practice. Shocked, actually.
But if their stiff shoulders, crossed arms, and unrelenting glares are anything to go by? They’re not happy about it.
The tension between us isn’t fading. It’s rising. Building higher and higher, every second I spend trapped with them. Graham kissing the freaking life out of me and then walking away left me in need of B.O.B.—my battery-operated-boyfriend. At least Bob can be trusted.
But even with that, it only took a little of the edge off, and I’m going to lose my damn mind because of it.
I need sex.
That’s the only thing that makes sense. I haven’t had any since Landon. Haven’t let anyone touch me. And now? Now I’m not just craving Finn in ways that make my skin crawl, I’m craving them too.
I’m lusting after the men holding me here. My goddamn bodyguards.
Stockholm Syndrome with a dirty little twist.
And it’s only being made worse by the fact I haven’t gotten horizontal with anybody recently. Not that it has to be horizontal…Graham fucking me against a wall would work. Or Carson bending me over. Hell, Hunter holding me in his arms while he rails me…
I suck in a breath, attempting to get myself under control. Daisy lifts an eyebrow at me as if she can read my mind and knows I haven’t been touched.
Not properly.
Not the way I need.
Not the way I imagine when I close my eyes at night.
I swallow hard, dragging my focus back to what Daisy said.
“They took my phone,” I tell her bluntly.
She pauses mid-lace, blinks. “Wait. What?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “I told them I like Finn’s attention, and they took my damn phone.”
Daisy bursts out laughing.
I pin her with my best glare.
She snorts, eyes flicking past me to where my self-appointed wardens stand.
“I could have told them that.” She smirks. “You glow under his camera lens. It’s ridiculous.”
My stomach twists.
Do I? Hell if I know what to do with that.
Daisy tilts her head, studying me, then grins. “But damn, I bet that made them absolutely feral.”
I make the mistake of looking.
Carson’s watching me, arms crossed, smirk in place—but his eyes are pure possession. Hunter? He’s got that look, the one that says he’s seconds away from hauling me over his shoulder again just to prove a point. And Graham hasn’t stopped glowering since we walked into the rink.
Fuck.
“They totally want you in ways they aren’t being paid to want you,” Daisy adds, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
I groan, pressing my palms to my face. She’s not wrong.
I just don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do about it.
Daisy laughs, propping her hands on her hips as she stands, her smirk downright wicked. “I would totally let them ruin me if I were an omega.”
“Daisy!”
She shrugs, completely unbothered. “What? You’re a lucky bitch, and you know it. Three hot-as-sin alpha bodyguards, one obsessed beta… Damn. If only.”
I press my lips together, holding back a grin.
Maybe I should stop fighting it. Maybe I should see just how far I can push them.
“I dunno,” I murmur, standing and rolling my shoulders as I test my skates. I cast one last glance at my jailers, knowing they’re watching my every move. I flash Daisy a smirk. “Maybe I’ll make a move.”
Then, without waiting for her reaction, I push off and skate onto the rink.
Fuck it.
It’s not like I have much else to do.
No phone. No laptop. From here, I go straight back home with my captors.
So what would they do if I just…stepped out of the bathroom naked?
Would they devour me? Would they go feral—as Daisy put it? My stomach dips at the thought.
I might not let them claim me.
But I can definitely get behind a little foursome action.
I push off, rolling onto the rink, forcing myself to focus. Not on them. Not on the heat crawling up my spine or the way my body still hums from the conversation with Daisy.
Just…on practice.
This is supposed to be my escape. The one place where I’m not an omega. Where I’m just Jinx. Fast, ruthless, and unshakable.
But…I feel them. In the same way I normally feel Finn at competitions. Their eyes. Their presence. The way the air shifts, crackling with something thick and electric.
I skate faster, cutting across the track to join the others.
Cheese shoves Knox’s shoulder, laughing as they jostle for position. Twinkle stretches her arms above her head, her skates rocking as she loosens up. Daisy skates backward in a slow circle, watching me with a knowing smirk.
“Ready to work, ladies?” Coach Crusher’s voice booms across the rink as she skates in front of us, her sharp eyes sweeping over our lineup.
A chorus of snarky comebacks fills the space, our laughter bouncing off the walls.
Coach grins. “Laugh while you can, but soon you’ll be too busy gasping for air.”
I snort; she says that almost every practice, and we always come back. Besides, she’s not lying.
The second practice starts, we’re in it. The world shrinks down to nothing but the rumble of wheels, the dripping of sweat, the burn of muscle. I dodge a shoulder check, weaving through the pack as Cheese and Knox hold the line, keeping our jammer protected.
I take a hit, stumble, catch myself.
Twinkle blows past me, her skates barely touching the ground as she spins and lands a perfect cut between two blockers.
“Showoff,” I pant, pushing harder, my legs burning as I power forward.
She just grins. It should be easy to lose myself in this. It always is.
But today it’s different. Because all three of them watch my every move, as if I’m going to skate off the rink and into the locker room to climb out a window or something. That’s not a bad idea, if I’m being honest with myself. However, I’m sure one of them would be after me in a heartbeat.
My stomach tightens. My pulse kicks up.
Fuck. What are they doing to me?
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, my mind racing. I need to stop this, push it aside, stop thinking about them. Because if I keep letting my mind wander to what they’d do to me…and what I want them to do to me—
I’m going to fall. In more ways than one.
The moment Coach Crusher skates onto the track, the energy shifts. Sweaty, exhausted, and running on adrenaline, we all start to slow, waiting for whatever she’s about to drop on us.
She stops at the center, arms crossed. “Listen up.”
The girls gather, skates scraping against the floor as they move into a loose semi-circle. I blow out a breath, rolling my shoulders back, trying to shake off the feeling of eyes still on me.
Whatever. I need to focus.
Coach scans the group, her expression unreadable before she finally says, “For Nationals, I wanted to bring in an independent roller derby consultant to help fine-tune our strategy. Someone with experience, someone who knows how to push a team to the next level.”
I barely register the words—until she drops the bomb.
“He played in high school, some in college, went to nationals more than once, and now he’s agreed to work with us for the next few weeks.”
Something cold twists in my gut. A hint of fresh laundry reaches me. It can’t be.
Oh no. Oh fucking no.
No, no, no…
“Reaper, everyone!” Coach says, and I feel him behind me.
The air in my lungs evaporates as his musk wraps around me. Reminding me of exactly why I asked him to bite me. Because these stupid pheromones got in my head and made me really stupid, obviously.
I hold my breath, fighting the urge to breathe deeply.
I resist it.
Because I know where that road leads.
And yet…my body betrays me. It remembers what it felt like in his arms. My chest tightens. My stomach flips. And when I finally drag my gaze up, he’s there. Watching me.
Still my scent match. Still the biggest mistake I ever made.
I knew he was probably still in New York. I just didn’t expect him to show up here.
Landon. Standing in the middle of my rink. My space. Owning it, as if he belongs, as if he has any right to crash into one of the few places he hasn’t already ruined. He said he played a little derby—not that he went to freaking Nationals.
My stomach knots, and my pulse jumps; if I could skate off this rink and never look back, I would, but this is about my team and nationals…not my bruised heart.
His blue eyes catch mine, warm and aching in a way that makes me want to scream. His jaw flexes, like he’s fighting it too. I swallow hard, forcing myself to breathe shallowly.
Daisy nudges me, her voice low. “Well… fuck. That’s one alpha I’d love to get horizontal with.”
I almost laugh hysterically. Instead, I square my shoulders, refusing to let my scent react, refusing to acknowledge that my pulse just spiked.
“Hey,” Landon says, taking one single gliding step towards me.
I ignore it. Ignore him. Ignore the way my whole body is suddenly vibrating.
“Reaper has experience playing and coaching, and I’ve asked him to run a few sessions with us,” Coach says, completely oblivious to the way I’m currently dying inside. “Let’s get started.”
A chorus of agreement ripples through the team. I barely hear it. Because Landon won’t stop looking at me, and my traitorous body won’t stop reacting.
I glance toward the side of the rink at the guys.
All three of them are watching. They know who he is. And I’m almost positive that if they had to choose between Finn and Landon, they’d choose Finn.
Landon starts talking about strategy, footwork, and team dynamics.
I try to focus as we move around the rink, following instructions. I really, really do.
But then he skates up next to me, his voice dips into a quiet murmur meant only for me. “I really do regret it,” he says. “Every day. Every night. Since I hurt you. I wish I could take it back.”
I clench my jaw, my teeth grinding.
“That I had been brave enough to fight for you. Brave enough to not be stupid.”
Shit.
I forget to breathe. My skates catch on each other, and suddenly—I’m falling.
Fast.
The ground slams into me, my body colliding with the track hard enough to send shockwaves through my bones. Pain explodes across my knees and hip. A startled gasp leaves my lips.
And then, I’m not on the ground anymore.
Before I can protest—before I can even blink—I’m in Hunter’s arms, carried across the rink like some cliché damsel in distress. My mouth opens, ready to snap something cutting, but the words stick in my throat when his grip tightens around me.
Heat slams into my face, humiliation sparring with the kind of awareness I don’t want to admit to. My pulse is wild, my body way too tuned in to his.
Great. Exactly what I needed. To be mortified and turned on at the same damn time.
Kill me. Just fucking kill me.
I don’t dare look at my team. I already know the looks I’m getting. Knox smirking. Daisy waggling her eyebrows. Cheese biting her lip to keep from laughing.
I groan, pressing my forehead against his chest.
“This is embarrassing,” I mutter.
His grip tightens slightly, his voice a low rumble. “You fell.”
“Yeah, no shit. Falling is a part of derby.”
“You could be hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re getting checked.”
I lift my head, glaring at him. “Put. Me. Down.”
He doesn’t.
Instead, he carries me straight to the bench, lowering me onto the seat with careful, steady hands. I barely catch my breath before he’s crouched in front of me, checking for injuries.
Landon’s voice drifts from across the rink, but I don’t dare look.
Not when Hunter’s hands are on me.
Not when my body is too fucking aware of him, of all of them, of this entire situation.
I’m so. Completely. Fucked.