Chapter 13
WREN
With teeth gritted, I shove Nikita and Gabbie ahead of me. “Just. Keep. Walking.”
Oh my god, what a clusterfuck. This is surely hell, and I’ve strolled right up to the front gates.
My body is screaming at me.
In all honesty, I don’t know how I’m still standing.
Wrenching myself away from my scent match? It feels like I’ve just torn my heart in half. Except, knowing who he is and the circumstances around us… and oh my god, I’ve already slept with his son.
Bury me right here.
Look up mortified in the dictionary, and it’ll be my mugshot. Holding up a sign that says “guilty” of letting the wrong Beta into my bed.
Who finds their scent match at a rugby game? No one. That’s who.
What kind of cruel punishment is this?
Strong fingers catch my elbow. Instant recognition flurries through my veins, sighing and cartwheeling and hollering at me that my Alpha is here to make everything better. I squeeze my eyes shut because this can’t be happening.
“Wren?” He says my name hesitantly, but oh my sweet Omega cherubic chorus does he say it with the perfect amount of grit and weight.
There’s something reverential there, worshipful, and my pussy aches to know what it might sound like for him to speak my name while his head is buried between my thighs.
All that ocean scent swirls around me, washing over me, lapping at the edges of my brain as if I’m swinging in a hammock with warm, salty skin and sand dusting my toes.
When I let my eyes open, both Nikita and Gabbie are standing right there, looking at me with a ticker tape of questions running through their eyes. It’s almost comical, the way their faces both ping pong between me and the man standing right at my back, then back to me again.
I give them the world’s weakest attempt at a smile. “Give me a second, yeah? I’ll meet you back at our seats.” Digging out my phone from my pocket, I show that I’ve got it in my hand and can call them if I need backup. “It’s okay,” I mouth silently.
They turn ever so slowly and make their way down the steps to our row, and I take a deep, steadying breath before spinning around to face the man I don’t know how to face. Not at all.
When I look up at him, that lungful of air rushes out in a near sigh.
He’s so handsome, it’s ridiculous. And somehow extremely familiar looking, now that I’m seeing him for a second time, in a different light.
With the flare of the stadium lights, and the blur of Wolves colors swirling in the crowd around us.
It’s something I can’t quite put my finger on.
I mean, one thing’s for certain… he looks nothing like his son.
Thank fuck.
His grip slides up the back of my elbow, like he doesn’t want to stop touching me, but the way those honeyed brown eyes of his flicker above my head to take in the people around us, I can see the war going on there. A decision about whether to keep this connection or let me go.
Unfortunately, whatever he sees there makes the decision for him, and he drops his hand.
In fact, he shoves both hands into his trouser pockets.
As he does so, I catch sight of his lanyard.
The one emblazoned with Wolves insignia.
Putting two and two together with what Brett just said inside, and the fancy suit, he’s gotta be someone important around this place.
“Don’t run off… please.” He says it through a clamped jaw and gritted teeth. “Just wait a moment.”
I’m shaking my head, the whisper coming out before he’s even finished speaking. “We can’t.”
That makes his eyes flare. The Alpha scent reaches out and might as well loop to grab hold of me by the waist. “You’re—we’re—”
“Scent matches,” I finish. Ready to whimper with how cruel it is that it’s him.
“My son.” His throat works. “I’m assuming you worked out he’s a shit-for-brains who has a lot of growing up to do?”
I roll my lips together and nod. What else is there to say? I’ve gone and fucked everything up before we even had an opportunity to find each other.
“I’ve never—” He looks ready to launch into some kind of deep, meaningful conversation right here, as the crowd erupts into a roar. The announcer’s voice booms over the microphone to accompany the players returning to the field.
“Stop right there.” I’m shaking my head as I cut him off.
“My brother is on the team. I’m an Omega scholar.
Your son is my ex-boyfriend. Let me just lay it all out plain and simple, so you understand this is too complicated.
I’m absolutely not worth the hassle that will bring on someone like you. ” I gesture at his lanyard.
My impossibly gorgeous Alpha, who can’t be my Alpha, narrows his stern gaze on me.
As if he’s mentally doing calculus. “I think we need to talk properly. Somewhere that isn’t here.
” And his eyes leave me for a moment, checking our surroundings, before returning to meet my gaze.
There’s something that feels so damn right about that sensation; it blooms inside my chest. “I don’t think we can fight it.
” He says the words almost apologetically.
Yet, even with his voice sounding like he’s coaxing me to give him a shot, even with the way his eyes capture me and make me feel more secure than I ever have before, I step back. “I can’t do this.”
My heart hammers furiously. I’m well aware my palms are sweating as I do my best to keep every single chemical reaction to this man under control. The way my body wants to rub all over him, to nuzzle against his chest, to drown him in my perfume.
But no. I’m not gonna do this. I’m not gonna be that Omega who turns up to college and immediately waltzes off into the arms of an Alpha she’s bagged and tagged.
He exhales heavily, running a hand through his sandy blond hair. The slightly roguish look to his strands is curious. This is no slick-haired businessman. He’s a little wild-looking behind the veneer of that suit. And those goddamn sexy grays at his temples are driving me to distraction.
“Let me give you my number anyway.” Before I can protest, he holds up both hands, palms facing me with a silent plea to listen. “Just in case. If you need anything. Any time of day or night. You text me.”
What is happening right now?
And why did that just make my blood purr with delight, a rich vibration extending through every vein.
Reaching out, with his eyes carefully locked onto mine, he gently lifts the phone from my clutches.
“May I?” He hits me with a little twitch of his lips, sexy creases forming around his eyes.
The kind of glance of consent that has my brain imagining him saying those same words with that same expression while unzipping me from a dress with his lips pressed against my nape.
A mental image so visceral, it immediately leaves me gasping for air.
Are my knees about to buckle? Is this some sort of Omega swoon?
This man’s stubbled mouth and heated gaze are a deadly combo if I ever did see one, and Jesus, my thighs squeeze together.
“Let me… uhh… just… uhh…” My tongue is numb inside my mouth.
Instead of speaking in fully formed words, I tilt his big hand—oh my god, his hands are massive—and let the facial recognition on my phone do its thing.
Then swallow down the fact that his scent thickens the moment I graze his wrist with my glove.
Christ. We haven’t even experienced skin-on-skin contact, and this is how intense our scent match is?
I’m in so much trouble.
He puts his details into my phone, quickly taking a glance up at me, before hitting save. Then hands it back.
Nothing is that simple. Ever. What kind of hit my head and I’m currently dreaming situation is this? Some sort of Alpha trickery?
“How do I know you’re serious?” My words blurt out.
“You can’t be serious. No one says that kind of thing.
No one in their right mind wants to be texted any time of day or night.
” I wave my glove up and down his expensive suit.
Trying to emphasize my statement, but I’m not even sure what my point is.
I’m basically just gesturing at him and trying not to scream “what the fuck, you’re a god” at the top of my lungs.
“Call my number.” His voice is so deep and alluring.
“Right here?”
“Mmhmm. You’ll see.”
Pulling my glove off with my teeth, I tap his contact name. His phone starts buzzing straight away.
Theo Brennan.
Ugh, of course. Even his name is sexy.
“And now I’ve got your number, too.” He gives me another long look. “Just in case.”
I’m liking the way he says that, all too much for my own good. It’s the kind of promise of safety and security, as well as giving me the distance I’m clutching at straws to hold onto. As if he can sense that macho Alpha smothering mode is the last thing I need.
Although I’d very much like to be smothered beneath him.
A horny, irresponsible problem for another day.
“Just in case,” I murmur.
“Just in case,” he repeats. That strong jaw of his works in overdrive. The distaste of that statement is evident in how tightly clenched his molars are, but bless him, at least he’s trying.
“Enjoy the game, Wren.” He slowly rolls my name over his tongue once more. Trying it out, sounding the letters with precision, and then he dips his chin. My scent match turns and walks back in the direction he came from, and I swear I nearly collapse in a heap of pheromones and squealing ovaries.
This was the worst idea ever. Coming to this game has officially turned into a disaster, and it’s not even full time. I’m supposed to be avoiding all this Omega bullshit, not stumbling into a scent match, or my ex-boyfriend, or my scent match–slash–ex-boyfriend’s father.
And I’m absolutely not supposed to be hoping like hell our paths cross again.