Chapter 4 Jaxon Roarke
JAXON ROARKE
The motorcycle rumbled between my thighs as I pulled into the Iron Stadium parking lot, the engine's growl cutting through the afternoon air. I killed the ignition and sat there for a moment, staring at the massive steel structure that housed the Steel Wolves' home ice.
Media day.Fuck my life, the thought flowed seamlessly through my brain.
I hated these things. Hated standing around smiling for cameras while some photographer told me to look "more approachable" or "less intimidating." I was a power forward, not a fucking model. My job was to hit people hard enough that they remembered it the next morning.
But the league required it. Team sponsorships demanded it. So here I was, twenty minutes late and not remotely apologetic about it.
I swung my leg off the bike and pulled my helmet free, running a hand through my hair. A few fans were lingering near the player entrance, phones already out. I nodded at them but kept moving. No time for autographs when I was already going to catch shit from our PR director.
The corridor leading to the main media room was buzzing with activity. Staff members rushed past with clipboards and equipment. I could hear the low murmur of voices, the click of cameras already firing off shots.
I rounded the corner and stopped dead.
Her scent hit me first.
Lilies and cinnamon, sweet and sharp and so familiar it made my chest ache. But there was something else underneath it now. Something that made every muscle in my body go tight.
Cedar and ice.
Luca's scent.
All over her.
My vision narrowed to a pinpoint focus as I scanned the room. It took me three seconds to find her, crouched near a light stand adjusting her camera settings. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing all black, practical and professional.
Reina fucking Howlett.
Twelve fucking years and she was here. In my arena. Setting up equipment like she hadn't disappeared without a trace. Like she hadn't left me wondering if she was dead or alive or just done with us completely.
My Alpha roared to life, possessive and feral and demanding.
Mine.
But Luca's scent was thick on her skin, concentrated around her neck and wrists like he'd been close. Really close.
My hands curled into fists. What the fuck had Vale done?
I forced myself to breathe, to think, to not immediately cross the room and drag her somewhere private so I could figure out exactly what had happened. The rational part of my brain, the part that wasn't currently drowning in instinct, knew that would be a terrible idea.
The irrational part didn't give a shit.
I started walking.
She didn't notice me at first, too focused on her lens. I watched her work, efficient and practiced, completely in her element. She'd always been good with cameras, even as a kid. Always carrying around some cheap disposable thing, taking pictures of everything.
I was ten feet away when she looked up, those deep brown eyes coming into focus.
Our eyes met and I watched the recognition slam into her like a physical blow. Her entire body went rigid. The camera in her hands dipped slightly. Her lips parted on a sharp inhale.
And her scent spiked.
Arousal and fear and something else, something that made my Alpha preen with satisfaction because she recognized me. Her body knew me even if her mind was still catching up.
I closed the distance between us, deliberately slow. Giving her time to run if she was going to.
She didn't.
"Long time no see, Pretty Girl."
Her throat worked as she swallowed. The professional mask she'd been wearing cracked at the edges.
"Jaxon," she managed, and hearing my name in her voice again after twelve years made something in my chest twist.
"That's all you've got for me?" I stopped just inside her personal space, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. "Twelve years and I get my name?"
"I'm working," she said, but her voice was shaky.
"I can see that." My gaze dropped to her camera, then back to her face. "NIHL photographer now? That's new."
"People change."
"Do they?" I let my eyes trail over her deliberately. "Because you smell exactly like I remember. Well, mostly."
Her jaw tightened. She knew what I meant.
"Jaxon..."
"He touch you?" The question came out rougher than I intended. "Vale. Did he touch you?"
Her eyes widened slightly and I had my answer before she even opened her mouth.
"That's none of your business."
"The fuck it isn't." I stepped closer, crowding her against the light stand. "You disappear for twelve years, show up in my city smelling like my rival, and you think I don't get to ask questions?"
"Your rival?" She let out a breath that might have been a laugh if it wasn't so bitter. "Is that what Luca is to you now?"
"That's what the league made him when they put us on opposite teams."
The words hung between us, heavy with implication. Reina's expression flickered, something like pain crossing her features before she locked it down.
"I need to finish setting up," she said, trying to sidestep me.
I moved with her, blocking her path. "We're not done talking."
"Yes, we are." Her voice had an edge now. "I have a job to do, Jaxon. Players to photograph. Including you, apparently."
"Good." I smiled, slow and deliberate. "Then you'll have plenty of time to look at me."
Her scent spiked again and I filed that reaction away for later.
The next hour was torture.
I went through the motions of media day, rotating through different photographers and videographers, answering the same boring questions about team dynamics and season goals. But my attention never left Reina.
I watched her work with the other players, professional and competent. Watched her adjust lighting and angles with practiced ease. And when it was finally my turn in front of her camera, I made sure she knew exactly what she was dealing with.
"Alright, Roarke," she said, her voice steady but her hands weren't quite as she adjusted her lens. "Let's get a few action shots. Can you..."
"Can I what, Pretty Girl?" I moved closer, invading the neutral space between subject and photographer. "Tell me what you want."
Her throat worked. "I need you to hold your stick. Look intimidating."
"I am intimidating."
"More intimidating."
I shifted my grip on my stick, letting my body language go predatory. Through the camera lens, I knew exactly what she was seeing. The same thing opponents saw right before I put them through the boards.
The shutter clicked rapidly.
"Good," she murmured. "Now turn slightly to your left. I want to catch the lighting on your..."
She trailed off as I moved, closing more distance instead of turning.
"On my what?" I asked, voice low.
"Your jersey," she finished, but her pulse was hammering at her throat. "The team logo."
"Right. The logo." I didn't move back. "That all you're interested in photographing?"
"Jaxon." My name was a warning.
"Reina." I matched her tone. "Just making sure we're clear on what you're looking at."
Her scent was everywhere now, thick and intoxicating. The suppressants she was wearing were failing. I could smell it in the way her natural scent kept breaking through, stronger each time.
The other photographers were wrapping up, packing equipment and checking shot lists. The media room was starting to empty.
Perfect.
"I need to download these files," Reina said, already turning away. "We're done here."
"Not even close."
I followed her as she headed toward the equipment room, a small space off the main corridor where photographers stored their gear between sessions. She was moving fast, trying to put distance between us.
I was faster.
The door clicked shut behind us and suddenly we were alone. The space was cramped, lined with shelves of camera equipment and lighting gear. Reina was already at the far end, her back to me as she fumbled with her camera bag.
"You've been spending time with Vale," I said.
Her shoulders stiffened but she didn't turn around. "I photographed the Frost Kings yesterday. It's my job."
"That's not what I'm talking about."
She finally faced me, her expression carefully neutral. "Then what are you talking about?"
"I can smell him all over you, Pretty Girl." I moved closer, deliberately slow. "What did he do?"
"Nothing."
"Liar." Another step. "His scent is concentrated here." I gestured to her neck. "And here." Her wrists. "That doesn't happen from a professional photo shoot."
Her jaw tightened. "It's none of your business what Luca and I..."
"Did he hurt you?"
The question came out harder than I meant it to, sharp with an edge of violence. My hands were already curling into fists, ready to put Vale through a wall if she said yes.
"No," she said quickly. "No, he didn't hurt me."
"Did he touch you?"
She didn't answer right away and that hesitation told me everything.
"Reina." I was right in front of her now, close enough to see the way her pupils were dilated, the way her breathing had gone shallow. "Tell me."
"Why do you care?" The words came out defensive. "You haven't seen me in twelve years. You don't get to..."
"Don't get to what? Be pissed that Vale got his hands on you first?" I leaned in, bracing one hand on the shelf beside her head. "That he touched you when I've been looking for you for over a fucking decade?"
Her eyes widened. "You looked for me?"
"Of course I fucking looked for you." The admission came out raw. "You think I just moved on? You think I didn't turn this entire city upside down trying to find you? Your mom wouldn't tell me shit. Wouldn't even confirm you were alive."
Something in her expression cracked. "Jaxon..."
"You're breaking down," I said, changing tactics. My eyes tracked over her face, noting the dark circles, the exhaustion, the way she was practically vibrating with tension. "Your suppressants are failing."
"I'm fine."