6. Malcolm
Isit cross-legged on a thick mat in the center of our home gym.
Deep, methodical breaths fill my lungs. Pushing the oxygen out takes a slow count of eight. I don't follow any specific religion, but I believe in energy. I believe in the spirit. Taming my Alpha instincts requires constant discipline.
Finding a spiritual center keeps the aggressive urges locked down in the dark where they belong. I force my body to sit still. Meditation clears my head and keeps the aggression fed with patience.
We have a grueling practice scheduled for tomorrow. We face a brutal playoff run next week. Keeping my mind organized keeps the pack organized.
I serve as the anchor for these guys. Finn acts as the heart, smoothing over the rough patches.
Lawrence brings the easy charm. Victor provides the scoring edge on the ice.
My job involves keeping all those volatile personalities grounded.
I watch. I listen. I step in when things threaten to boil over.
Right now, the house feels too quiet.
Finn left over an hour ago to take some gear to the sick kid at the hospital. Lawrence went upstairs to shower. Victor sulks in his bedroom, still dealing with the fallout of his panic attack from yesterday.
I take another deep breath and hold the air in my chest.
The front door upstairs slams hard enough to shake the floorboards.
My eyes snap open. The sound of boots pounding against the hardwood echoes through the ceiling. Frantic footsteps rush past the kitchen and head straight for the basement stairs.
I stand up from the mat, letting my towering frame stretch to full height.
A pungent wave of distressed pheromones floods down the stairwell. The familiar crisp ozone and citrus of Finn’s scent hits my nose, but the scent feels wrong. The air smells like a hurricane tearing through a city. Acrid, panicked energy coats the room.
Finn bursts into the basement gym.
He looks feral. His auburn hair sticks up in every direction, matted with sweat.
Moisture stains the collar of his black henley.
His chest heaves with frantic, jagged gasps.
He grips the sides of his head and paces the length of the rubber floor like a caged animal. His boots squeak against the mats.
A low, vibrating growl builds in his throat. The noise borders on unhinged.
I step into his path. "Finn."
He ignores me. He spins on his heel and paces back toward the weight racks. His eyes look blown out and wild. His jaw clenches so tight the muscles in his neck jump.
I track his movements. The chaotic energy rolling off his skin threatens to spark a fight. A fresh Alpha drowning in this much distress needs immediate containment.
I step forward and grab his shoulder. My hand wraps around his bicep, digging into the muscle to force him to a halt.
"Sit." I drop my voice into a calm, commanding rumble.
Finn thrashes against my grip. He bares his teeth, a desperate snarl ripping past his lips. His instincts scream at him to fight anyone in his way.
I tighten my hold. I push my cedar scent out, blanketing his chaotic ozone with a thick, grounding layer of dominance. I refuse to match his panic. I refuse to raise my voice. I use my size and my unyielding calm to force his erratic nervous system to submit.
"I said sit." I shove him backward onto a flat weight bench.
Finn's knees buckle. He crashes onto the padded seat and buries his face in his large hands. A ragged, high-pitched whine escapes his throat.
"Breathe." I cross my arms over my chest and stand over him. "Tell me what happened."
Finn drags his hands down his face. His skin looks flushed. "I found her. I found the girl from yesterday. "
"Olive." I recall the name easily.
"She smelled like a bakery." Finn gestures with frantic hands. "She smelled like warm apple pie and crushed cinnamon. She smelled slick, Malcolm. Dripping wet and ready to breed. She wasn't a Beta. She dropped into a full heat the second my scent hit her."
The words hit my chest like a slapshot.
I inhale a deep breath through my nose. The crisp ozone covering Finn recedes enough for me to catch the lingering trace on his clothes. A faint, biting sweet scent clings to the fabric of his shirt.
The scent bypasses my rational brain. The aroma sinks straight into my blood and sets my veins on fire.
My cock twitches inside my sweatpants, growing thick and hard.
My own Alpha instincts roar to life, reacting to the perfection of that sweet, distressed pheromone.
The smell triggers every evolutionary wire in my head.
The scent belongs to an Omega meant for our pack. It begs to be claimed.
I force my hands to stay relaxed. "Where is she?"
"They took her." Finn jumps up from the bench, his hands forming tight fists.
"She dropped right there in the hallway.
She looked so fragile. I caught her. She buried her face in my neck.
She whined for me. I wanted to carry her out of there and lock her in my room.
I wanted to knot her until she couldn't walk. "
My teeth grind together. The graphic image of knotting the fierce, dark-haired woman sends another jolt of raw heat straight to my cock.
"The charge nurse called security." Finn paces again, his voice cracking with rage. "They ripped me away from her. They dragged her into medical isolation. I tried to fight them. I wanted to bash their skulls in. I had to leave the building before I caught an assault charge."
I grab his shoulder again and force him to look at me. "You did the right thing. Starting a bloody brawl in a pediatric ward ruins our careers and terrifies her. You kept your head."
"She needs us." Finn grabs the front of my t-shirt. "She needs a real cock, Malcolm. They locked her in a sterile room to burn through a presentation heat all by herself. We have to go back. We have to break her out of there."
The desperation in his eyes mirrors the sudden, violent urge rising in my gut.
An unbonded Omega dealing with a presentation heat goes through absolute hell. The pain drives them insane. They crave friction and a knot to stretch them out and ease the fever. The thought of our Omega lying alone on a scratchy hospital bed, weeping for an Alpha, makes my vision tint red.
I take a slow, deliberate breath. Giving in to the feral instincts guarantees disaster. I need to keep the pack focused.
"We plan this out." I pry his fingers off my shirt. "We figure out a smart way to get to her. We don't storm a hospital like criminals."
Footsteps hit the top of the stairs. The basement door swings open.
I turn my head, preparing to manage the rest of the pack before this chaotic news tears our house apart.
distressed pheromones flood the mansion’s ventilation system. The panicked Alpha scent acts like a siren. It takes less than a minute for the others to respond.
The basement door swings open. Lawrence takes the wooden stairs two at a time. The scent dragged him straight out of the shower. He wears a gray towel slung low on his hips. Water drips from his dark curls onto his broad shoulders.
Victor follows right behind him. He wears black track pants and a plain white t-shirt. His icy eyes scan the room. The scent trail dragged him out of his bedroom, too. He spent the entire morning avoiding the rest of us.
The moment they step off the bottom stair, they freeze in their tracks.
The chaotic blend of ozone, cedar, and the sweetness of apple pie hits them both.
The reaction happens fast. Lawrence drops his relaxed posture.
His spine snaps straight. His nostrils flare wide.
His pupils dilate, swallowing the brown irises.
His expression shifts in sudden recognition of the unbonded Omega scent clinging to Finn's clothes.
Victor takes a step backward. The color drains from his aristocratic face. His hands ball into tight fists at his sides. I watch him fight his instincts, his chest heaving with rapid breaths to keep the visible surge of arousal and possession in check.
Lawrence glares across the gym. "What the fuck is going on down here? Who smells like that?"
I step to the side. I give them a clear view of Finn, who is back to pacing on the rubber mats. "Finn found our scent-matched Omega."
Victor blinks. He shakes his head, rejecting the concept. "A scent match? We agreed to focus on the playoffs. We lack the time and the privacy to deal with a sudden pack bond."
"Instincts don't give a damn about the hockey schedule." I cross my arms over my chest, watching Victor's denial crumble. "Finn went back to the hospital. He found the woman from yesterday. The guide running the Make-A-Wish visit. Our pheromones sent her into a presentation heat."
Lawrence steps closer to Finn. His eyes go wide with shock. "Are you serious? The fierce brunette?"
"In the middle of the hallway." Finn drags a hand through his messy auburn hair. "Her body went limp. She smelled like heaven. Her slick soaked right through her scrubs. The hospital guards dragged me out before I could claim her."
Lawrence flexes his tan hands. The charming, easy-going mask he wears for the media shatters into pieces. Raw, predatory anger replaces his usual bright smile. He radiates a fierce need to protect. "They put hands on you? They dragged her away?"
"They did what they had to do." I intervene before Lawrence joins Finn's frantic pacing. "She works on a sick floor. A presenting Omega creates a liability for the patients. The hospital locked her in an isolation room to ride it out."
Victor scoffs. He crosses his arms and leans his back against the metal weight rack.
He forces a sneer onto his face, using his classic arrogance to shield his panic.
"She reacted to our pheromones. I get it.
That means we share a scent match. But we can't claim her.
The PR nightmare alone makes it a terrible idea. We leave her alone."
Finn stops pacing. He turns his head. His warm eyes lock onto Victor with dangerous focus. "She belongs to us. And she hates your guts."