Chapter Fifteen
Wulf
Shifting didn’t heal him. At least not all the way, but it did show me that the injury was confined to his human form, something I passed along to his therapist. That information would be very helpful to him going forward.
He would be able to focus on the human form.
One of the challenges of working on a shifter was having to deal with two separate forms, one of which might be too big for the office.
A tiger shifter who had his issues only as a big cat had to be treated outdoors because he not only wouldn’t fit on the table but made it impossible to move in the treatment rooms. He was gentle, though, and grateful for the exercises we did with him in his tiger form.
He didn’t even growl when I knew he was hurting.
But while we’d begun the healing process of his body, and while our mating was a healing for both of us in another way, he was still missing a pretty big part of what made him Stryker.
He’d been all about sports his entire life until the accident, and then dropped it like a hot potato.
I understood why, but his current job at the hotel was merely a way to pay the bills.
He got no real satisfaction from it other than meeting nice people sometimes, and I wanted to help him get back in the area he liked.
But if he wasn’t going to compete, what would he do?
And then it came to me. What did most athletes do after their career?
They worked in other aspects of the sports world.
They were announcers and worked in offices and coaches.
But how did someone become a coach? Did they apply online or something?
While I had a few moments between patients I placed a call to the very tournament my omega had hoped to compete in and asked some questions.
As soon as I told them the name of the person I was inquiring for, they became very excited and asked me to have him call as soon as possible.
Striker had been one of the most promising athletes, the male on the other end of the call informed me, and when he’d been injured, so many people had been crushed for him.
They’d wanted to reach out but other than thoughts and prayers, they’d feared stepping on toes.
Especially when the sports medicine doctor he’d gone to said he would barely be able to walk again, if at all.
My blood boiled at the thought of what he’d been through.
Were the medical people incompetent. Maybe, maybe not.
But they were negative, something I’d seen a lot of in my training.
If a person was told they’d never heal, never improve, why would they even try?
Considering, Striker had been a rock star getting as far as he had.
On the way, sent a text to my mate that I’d meet him at the club a little late.
Tonight was a big evening. The paperwork was ready for me to sign to take on a share of ownership.
I wanted my mate’s name on it, and he argued at first then agreed but said he would be a silent partner, and so that was our arrangement.
It would be “my” investment, but like everything else going forward, it would belong to us both.
I would hear nothing different.
Walking in the door, I pulled out my phone, prepared to check it, but Striker stood beside the desk holding his up.
“Not tonight, alpha. I’ve been informed we are now trusted to keep our devices in our pants and not do anything to embarrass any of the other members or ownership. They’re waiting for us. Ready?”
More than. I’d sat on this decision longer than I should have. My financial advisor had been so excited about the opportunity, he asked if they needed any more owners. I told him that was for him to check into because I didn’t have much pull yet, but if he followed up, he would be a good partner.
We entered the main room then turned to the left and down a long hallway lined with offices.
The door stood open to a conference room where a dozen or so alphas stood, waiting.
There were of course my friends but also a number of others I’d met once or twice while making this decision.
They reintroduced themselves to me and for the first time to Striker then we all sat at the table and signed.
I’d never have to turn my phone in or stand in line again. After a champagne toast, Striker and I headed for the Medieval Room to celebrate privately. He’d decided that heavy impact play was sad Striker, and happy Striker wanted to be suspended from a chandelier and flogged lightly then sucked off.
Sounded pretty good to me.
For the first time in the club he did not shy away from stripping naked and even told me to leave the little window open so passersby could see us at play and know what a hot alpha Fate had gifted him.
His joy was evident in every part of our scene. As the intensity increased, I pulled off my shirt, sweat glistening on both of our bodies under the electric candlelight—a nod to fire prevention instead of naked flames.
I did everything he asked then carried him to the bench to straddle my lap. No dildo up his ass like on the other piece of dungeon furniture he’d disparaged. Just my cock.
Later, in aftercare, while I cuddled him, limp and warm and with his guard down, I brought up the idea of being a coach. Gave him some details from my conversation with the Tournament officials
He said he’d think about it.
I couldn’t ask for more, but I did end the official’s number to his phone, just in case.