3. CHAPTER TWO
Edinburgh — Scotland
2018
The final strains of The Sound of Music played on the television mounted on the wall as I lay in bed with the woman who had taken up space in nearly every one of my waking thoughts since I’d managed to coerce her into bed with me three months ago.
She’d fallen asleep about twenty minutes into the movie, but I didn’t have the heart to wake her up, relishing in the weight of her on my chest.
Ciara Callaghan had made it clear that she wasn’t looking for a relationship and I’d agreed, hoping that she’d change her mind if I soothed some of the fears that sometimes gave her nightmares during the night.
But even three months along I was still surprised I’d managed to make it past that first night. Ciara was as prickly as she was beautiful and any mention of going on actual dates and she would shutter up fast like one of the nuns from the movie I’d just watched.
So we were relegated to sex and movies, or movies and sex depending on the day.
We were also keeping our nighttime rendezvous a secret from the rest of the athletes at the training camp, though I was sure that Connor knew exactly what was going on.
After being grouped up into a team to begin training for the next Olympics we saw each other constantly which meant the observant alpha got a front row seat to my pining after a woman who wasn’t emotionally available for anyone let alone me.
In fact, the first day we showed up to practice and the figure skaters were showing their coach what they were made of he’d watched me gawk as Ciara zipped across the ice.
She was as gorgeous as a rose like the nickname I’d given her, but also just as thorny. She’d ignored most people except for the tiny omega skater who had glued herself to her side and it had taken Connor inviting everyone out for her to actually go out with us.
I’d made my move that nights in hopes of enchanting a couple of dates out of her and showing her all the sights Edinburgh had to offer… but Ciara wasn’t interested in anything more than being my fuck buddy, and like the eejit I was, I’d gone right along with it.
As if my morose thoughts were actually audible, Ciara made a noise and began to stir.
“Is it over?” she mumbled, squinting at me. “Did you like it?”
“It was…” I trailed off, trying to find the right word for it. “Musical.”
She gave a sleepy snort of laughter. “You can say it was boring, Leith, I know I won’t win them all.”
She’d spent the past three months trying to convince me that musicals of any kind were a superior art form. It was one of the few tidbits of information I’d managed to pull out of the woman and I was milking it for all it was worth.
“It wasn’t boring, but it certainly was old,” I finally amended, gathering her more closely and inhaling her cinnamon scent deep into my lungs.
She smelled better than anyone I’d ever had the pleasure of smelling before—even the omegas.
Being from a tiny village in the highlands, I didn’t approach many omegas, but they all smelled like some variation of sickly sweet to me. Even the ones training at the camp all reeked like oversaturated perfume whenever they didn’t use their scent blockers.
But Ciara smelled heavenly always, even after a long day of skating. I was finding myself completely addicted to her and I just hoped she was maybe starting to feel the same way.
Ciara yawned, snuggling in close and pressing her nose to the column of my neck. “I’ll show you Les Misérables tomorrow night.”
I grimaced. We were in the middle of what she was calling the ‘historical’ musicals section. It had started off strong with Hamilton, but had very quickly gone downhill from there.
“What if we went out to the pictures instead? I think that Mamma Mia of yours has a second film out,” I offered, holding my breath as I waited for her answer.
Ciara lifted her face so our eyes could meet and I could already tell what she was about to say before she even opened her mouth.
“I like it better here. Besides, we can’t fuck in the cinema now can we?” she asked, cheekily changing the subject as her hand slid down my bare chest and underneath the sheets.
I wanted to argue, but I knew that was a one-way ticket to getting my arse kicked out of her bed forever.
So, instead, I gave in to her kisses and touches. We had time. The training still had another six months before it was over and she didn’t seem interested in anyone or anything else besides that.
I could wait—I was the oldest of five siblings—meaning that patience was already a hard won trait of mine.
But later on that night when I woke up alone in a cold bed with only a hastily scrawled note on the pillow, I realized I’d given my heart away to a woman who had left me high and dry without so much as a verbal goodbye.
I swore then that I would never again let myself be pulled in by Ciara Callaghan.
Four years later…
2022 Winter Olympics in Edinburgh
“All right folks, moving through the men’s singles event, we have our last athlete stepping onto the ice. Ukrainian born skater, Artem Kostyk, is attempting to do what he failed to during the 2018 Olympics. Can he make it past the semifinals and secure his spot on the podium and a gold for Team Great Britain?”
“Well, seeing as he very nearly had it last time, I’m hopeful for the young figure skater who has been relatively quiet in most skating circles since the last Olympics in Nor—”
I switched my phone off of the BBC’s commentary with a shake of my head. I shouldn’t have been listening to it at all, but I wanted to catch Enzo when his segment for the ice hockey games came on.
As if thinking about him conjured him out of thin air, my phone buzzed with a text message from him.
ENZO:Has he gone on yet?
With a sigh, I hurried to reply before my packmate went completely over the edge.
ME:He’s getting ready to. Aren’t you in the middle of commentating?
ENZO: Yeah, so?
ME: Focus on your job, Enz, or Artie is going to kick your arse.
There was a pause, probably due to the fact that he was supposed to be watching the ice hockey match and responding to the plays, before my phone buzzed again.
ENZO: I can’t help but be worried. His doctor cleared him for this, but what if he falls or runs into something?
ME: He still has 60% vision, remember? He’s not going to run into anything.
ENZO:You’re missing the point—
I didn’t finish reading the rest of his paranoid message because a hush fell over the crowd, signaling that our omega had finally stepped onto the ice.
In the three years since I’d met Artem Kostyck, I was always awed by his presence whenever he stepped onto the ice.
During everyday life, he was a cheerful, silly fellow. Always ready for a laugh, and quick to tease.
But as soon as the blades of his skates hit ice, he was like another human entirely. Almost like a faerie as he glided across the smoothed surface much more elegantly than I could ever manage during my own curling.
I could feel his nerves and worries through the bond mark I’d placed on his neck, and despite feeling the way he did, he still managed to tilt his chin up and pose as he waited for the music of his set to start.
The first strains of Somewhere Only We Know by Keane began to fill the small stadium and Artie was off.
To a stranger, Artie looked perfect. Every twirl and jump was practiced and perfect, not an inch of the man’s lean body out of line as he made the ice his bitch. He’d practiced this routine for hours and hours a day for the past year and a half, his practices growing longer as his eyesight started to fade.
Steadily developing open-angle glaucoma was what his doctors called it when we’d finally managed to make him go to the doctor after months of him squinting at us or tripping over things. We’d thought he just needed a new prescription for his glasses, but what we’d learned had been so much worse. It meant that Artie was starting to lose his peripheral vision and would continue to lose it until he was completely blind.
Enzo had wanted Artie to stop skating entirely, worried a head injury could exacerbate his symptoms. He’d wanted to preserve what eyesight our omega had left. They’d fought for months about it until they reached a breaking point.
Then they’d both looked to me to be the tie breaker and as I watched Artie skate, I knew I’d made the right decision.
Even if it had driven Enzo to be the most anxious alpha I’d ever met, the constant buzz of my phone attesting to my packmate’s worries about Artie’s set.
He was solid, though. As the song crescendoed toward the end and executed the most difficult jumps of his set, I held my breath until his skates safely met the ground again.
Artie posed, a cheeky grin on his face as the crowd cheered.
The air that had been caged in my chest since he started left me in one long whoosh as I clapped and let out a loud whoop.
Artie turned, waving to the crowd before he skated for the exit and my stomach dropped as I watched his hip catch on one of the low white half-walls that opened up to allow athletes to exit and enter the ice.
There was no shift in the cheering, so I was sure that no one noticed it, but watching Artie’s shoulders sink a half inch before he stepped off of the ice completely made my heart twist.
Already up on my feet, I grabbed my bag and began to make my way through the crowd, throwing half-hearted apologies over my shoulder at whoever I bumped into until I finally made it to the steps.
Artie would be in the holding area waiting for his score so I made my way there, flashing the badge that we’d all been given upon arriving early last week. It was a family pass, but I also had my own athlete pass if someone really tried to stop me.
Behind the scenes was a bustle of activity as the events changed over to the women’s singles, male and female figure skaters mingled, chattering or looking a bit shellshocked as their scores weren’t going to be enough to move them on to the next round.
I dodged around a pair of skaters who were busily arguing, some kind of lover’s quarrel about cheating in the Olympic Village. It didn’t surprise me as the village was always no man’s land and I was just glad to be able to stay in a suite with the rest of my pack instead of in the dorms.
Leaving the loud pair behind, I scanned the long hall looking for my omega. I could feel the echoes of his discontent through our bond and I knew that if I didn’t comfort him soon, Enzo would leave in the middle of a broadcast, contracts be damned.
I found him a moment later, nodding at whatever Mama Burt, his elderly British skating coach, was telling him.
She had been our rock over the past six months, changing her coaching to accommodate Artie’s failing sight.
“Oh, love,” I heard her say as I approached, her hand patting Artie’s cheek, “No one even noticed you bumping into that wall.”
“I didn’t even see it,” Artie said as I approached, his blue eyes shifting to me before returning to his coach. “It was in that stupid black area and I didn’t realize how close it was until I nearly went over it.”
Reaching for him, I pulled the unwilling omega into my arms, inhaling his crisp orange scent.
It had been one of the first things that had drawn me to him when we met at a training camp in London and it still made my mouth water whenever we were near each other.
“Mo leannan, you looked wonderful out there,” I murmured into his ear, pleased when he shivered against me at the rumble in my voice. “You are doing great under these circumstances.”
Relief seemed to ebb out of Artie as he melted into me and sighed. “Thank you for coming so quickly, I’m afraid I was about to lose it.”
“Is Enzo about to go on a rampage to get here?” I asked, only able to feel a breath of the other alpha’s emotions through our bonds that tethered us to Artie which told me that he was blocking me specifically.
Artie shook his head and leaned back, his blue eyes squinting as he took in my face. “No, I managed to rein myself in before he took a swan dive from the BBC booth to get here—but why are you still here? Don’t you need to go and get ready for your own event?”
Truthfully, I did. My curling team’s patience was already wearing thin with me due to the past six months of missing practices because of Artie’s medical stuff. I knew they were trying to be understanding, but it also wasn’t as if we were friends. The center in Edinburgh that we trained at had paired the four of us up in hopes of creating a medal-worthy team.
Connor, one of the guys on the team, had joked that they were trying to create the curling equivalent of One Direction. The only problem was that we were four burly Scottish men and were much fatter than any of those waifish boys could ever be.
Even though we got along well, I had a feeling that after these Olympics I’d be given my walking papers and they would try to find a new fourth member. Did that make me the Zayn of the group? I wasn’t sure.
“I do, but I’ve got a bit of time to spend with you until your score comes out,” I lied, thankful that the ice rink where curling was taking place was right next door.
Artie could feel my lie through the bond and his lips pursed together so tightly that I was afraid all of the blood would drain from them.
“Don’t you start, mo leannan,” I scolded, dropping down to press a surreptitious kiss to his lips, gently moving mine against his until he relaxed again. “You are my priority, remember?”
“I don’t want to wreck your Olympic experience.” Artie reached up to cup my face in his hands, his fingers tracing the line of my beard. “It’s your first time as an athlete after all.”
It had been my dream to go to the Olympics, and the stands of the curling event were packed with a bunch of redheaded Dougalls who’d made the trek down from the highlands to watch me.
“I hate to break up a sweet moment,” Mama Burt said, cutting in between us and waving a hand and effectively ending our staring match. “But Artie’s score is up.”
Artie jumped and leaned around me to peer at the screen, his excited face quickly pinching together. “I can’t read it, Leith?”
“I got you,” I said and turned to look up at the screen. It took me a moment to register what I was seeing before a surprised guffaw barked out of me and I lifted Artie up off the ground. “Ninety-six, I knew you could do it!”
“Of course he did,” Mama Burt said, sounding a bit miffed at my words. “I’m his coach after all! That’ll get him in at least the running for that medal. He’ll need to keep it up for the free skate though.”
Neither of us were listening to the woman as she continued to talk about things Artie needed to be aware of for the next section. Artie’s laugh was breathy as he let me spin him around before he gave my shoulder a couple of smacks. “Leith, too much, I’m about to hurl.”
“Sorry.” I put him firmly back on the ground again, keeping my hands on his waist until I was sure he was steady.
The loudspeaker crackled to life as they announced that the women’s singles were going to get started and that the first skater needed to make their way to the holding area. One glance at the clock on the wall told me that it was also time for me to leave or risk missing my own event entirely.
Dragging Artie in for one more restless kiss, I pressed my forehead against his. “I’ll be back after, but congratulations, mo leannan, you are an inspiration and ridiculously adorable to boot.”
Artie’s grin was wide. “Love you,” he murmured as I pulled away, our fingers curling around each other until the last possible second.
I caught his words with my free hand and pressed them to my heart. A corny gesture to be sure, but it was ours.
With one last look at my flushed omega’s face, I turned to hurry back through the crowd. If I ran, I’d make it with a few minutes to spare, so I had my head down and my face stern as I barreled through the groups of figure skaters.
It was amazing how so many people would part like the red sea for an angry-looking Scotsman, but I stopped when someone said a name I hadn’t heard in a long time.
“Do you think Ciara’s nervous?” a feminine voice asked and I whirled around to find the source of it.
A small redheaded woman was dressed in a silver figure skating outfit and she was talking to a burly blond-haired man as he helped her braid her fiery locks.
“I dunno, she seemed fine when we left the village this morning,” the man responded gruffly with the shrug of one beefy shoulder. His eyes were on me, clocking that I seemed to be paying attention to their conversation.
The woman, an omega I surmised based on his overprotective attitude, just shook her head. “But Nash said she seemed off.”
“And Nash spent the entire night with a pair of three-year-olds going through sleep regression, sweetness.”
“So? I’m just worried. I want her to get the gold this time and I don’t know what’ll happen if she doesn’t. She’s been working her ass off for it for four years.” The woman’s pink lips pulled down into a deep frown.
The man huffed a laugh as he finally moved around her, effectively blocking her from my view. A silent warning to stop eavesdropping on their conversation.
“And what about you? Don’t you want the gold too?” he asked, his voice muffled to my ears now.
There was a pause. “I do but I also want Ciara to have her moment, I’ve got my gold. I just wish that I could be on the sidelines with her this time. Stupid new Olympic rules that only allow one athlete out at a time.”
“She’ll be on the TV, sweetness, in fact I think she’s going on right now.”
My head swiveled to one of the nearby televisions that was up on the wall and I sucked in a sharp, surprised breath as I watched a familiar face step onto the ice.
My phone began to buzz—no doubt with calls from my teammates asking me where the fuck I was—but my eyes were glued to the screen as the skater’s name flashed on the screen.
Ciara Callaghan. A face and a name that was seared into my brain in ways that I would never admit out loud.
I watched with a slack jaw as she smiled pretty for the cameras and skated into the center of the arena, her flouncy lavender colored outfit swishing around creamy brown thighs as she posed and waited for her music to start.
Four years. It had been four years since we’d met and had fallen into bed together, but I could still taste her cinnamon scent on my tongue as I watched the first few movements of her routine.
With a shake of my head, I turned and hurried out of the hall, a storm raging in my chest as every single one of the emotions that I’d buried deep down inside of me came bubbling to the surface.