Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Lennon
“Fuck, B. I can’t believe I just ran out of there like my ass was on fire,” I groan, collapsing back into the mattress at the center of my new, half-built nest, the fitted sheet barely tucked around the edges before I decided to throw myself into the middle of it and have an all out fucking crisis over Dominic Hart.
“I could feel his cock pressing against my stomach and… ugh!” I am equal parts mortified and turned all the way on, and neither reaction benefits me in any way.
I could see his raw desire for me in his eyes.
The way they heated as he allowed his gaze to travel over my body.
I don’t think I will ever be able to forget the way his hands felt on my hips.
The way his touch made something inside of me clench painfully.
I had only been moments away from letting out the most pathetic whine, seconds away from getting to my knees for a man I had only spoken to for a few moments.
I would have begged for his cock, too. Begged him to slip his length into my mouth so I could taste him.
For him to relieve this tension that has been building up inside of me after being surrounded by Alphas for the past month, that smells far too good to someone as pathetically unmated as I am.
“I have been telling you for months now that you need to get some good dick,” Bronte says pointedly, stuffing another pillow into a pillowcase.
I groan as I reach for a blanket and begin organizing it until I am mostly happy.
Getting this new nest perfect is going to take time.
Bronte visits me every chance she can get, but I know it’s because she doesn’t want me here alone.
Despite her begging for me to get another apartment, I haven’t had the heart to move out.
This apartment was my father’s. The last place he laid his head before his health declined and he went into the hospital.
Being here… It feels like he’s still around sometimes.
It feels like he’s still around all the time, no matter where I am, but there’s something about this place that makes me feel closer to him.
More so than when I’m in his old office.
It’s more personal. Like every corner of this place was entirely his.
He didn’t share this space with anyone. Until me.
Leaving feels like a betrayal in some way.
He had left all of this to me, and I refuse to treat it as though it’s cursed just because a fucked up stalker asshole is trying to ruin it for me.
While I am still taking those threats seriously, I won’t let them win by leaving what has become like a security blanket for me.
The camera Bronte had installed for me put my mind at ease a little.
The moment something looks off, an alert goes out to the security company, and that alone gives me at least some peace of mind.
Removing all negative thoughts from my mind before Bronte notices the hundred and one things circling my head.
I promised a girl’s night, and so far, we’ve managed to talk about nothing more than intense fucking Alpha’s. One in particular.
“I know. I just…” I trail off, unable to give Bronte an exact explanation for why I have decided to become a nun over the past few years.
I could do the typical things and blame it all on my busy time schedule or the fact that I haven’t met anyone ‘worthy’ enough, but they would both be lies.
Sure, my schedule before my father passed was packed full of endless cases and court dates that seemed to flow from one to the other, but I had plenty of holidays under my belt that I could have used.
Plenty of Sundays were spent curled up in my nest while I could have been out meeting someone.
But something in me had refused. Even the part of me that screamed to be touched by someone had eventually shriveled up into the corner of my mind along with everything that I had deemed ‘unimportant’ for years.
Now, all of that is coming to bite me in the ass because I wanted nothing more than to say fuck it and accept every single thing that Dominic was offering.
I couldn’t smell him.
Couldn’t get a proper read off him like a scent would give me. But his body language and the look in his eyes told me every single thing I needed to know.
He wanted me just as much as I wanted him. Something I threw away for the sake of company policy. A policy I am damn fucking tempted to throw the fuck out the moment the season is over.
“You know you could just take it back?” Bronte says, grabbing another blanket from the pile of washed nest supplies we purchased after I hightailed it out of work this afternoon.
“I can’t, and you know that.”
Bronte rolls her eyes, “Who said that you can’t, Lenn? You are literally the owner, even if it isn’t official until the end of the season. What are they going to do? Take the team off you? The only stipulation was that you needed to coach the team for a year, right?”
I think back to the contract that is still wet with my signature.
That had been the only requirement for me to inherit the team.
There had been nothing about what would happen if I didn’t follow through with the coaching position.
I don’t think my father had even thought that far.
He had clearly known that I would have taken the position without second thought, which is exactly what I did.
The only issue is that I did sign a general contract.
The same one I know every single Cardinal employee signs upon the commencement of their employment.
I shake my head. I don’t even want to get into the logistics of contracts and anything to do with the legal system while my head is so messed up.
I have enough to focus on. Keeping away from things that feel dangerous, like Dominic, is the best thing I could possibly do for myself.
“I just… I can’t right now. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize my position with the Cardinals. I’m the only person who can carry my father’s legacy now. It means too much to me to fuck this up.”
Bronte sighs, nodding. “Just, don’t give up on happiness completely, Lenn. You deserve to find your pack even if you say that you don’t need one.”
“I hope you know that goes for you, too, B.”
She may be on my case right now, but God only knows Bronte could do with taking her own advice.
She is just as steadfast as I am in refusing pack life, citing Omega independence and the importance of standing on our own two feet.
Except that she isn’t afraid to date. To scratch that itch.
To find a pack to spend her heats with, unlike me, who writhes around, begging for relief I know I won’t get.
We finish setting up my nest for now, the space is an ongoing work in progress.
I know that there are one too many things missing from the area.
I know for sure one part is the scents. They aren’t right. It’s too… clean. Not yet used. Lacking that usual comfort, a certain smell can give.
Not allowing me to dwell on all of the things I could be perfecting in my nest, Bronte drags me out into the living room, two boxes of our favorite pizza already sitting on the coffee table, along with the show we had been watching together, even though we had been on other sides of the country.
“Okay. I’m going to level with you,” Bronte says, removing the box of pizza from my hands I had just reached for, before placing it back down. “You have been spiraling over NHL Alphas and Betas for weeks, Lennon. We need to get your ass on a dating app.”
“Oh… NO, the fuck we don’t,” I counter immediately, scandalized by the mere thought.
The last thing in the world I need right now is the politics that comes with dating.
I don’t even think I have the bandwidth to learn all there is to know about another person.
What makes them tick. Getting to know them.
Their needs. I’m all booked out in the brain.
As much as the idea is intriguing, mindless dating isn’t what I need right now.
Casual sex, on the other hand, I’m all for.
She sees my answer on my face before the words even escape my lips.
“Fine. But just know, there’s nothing hotter than a bunch of Alphas jealous of the fact that an Omega is efficient enough to take matters into her own hands. Getting the garden watered elsewhere would send them into a frenzy, I’m sure.”
Chuckling, I throw a napkin at her head.
“First of all, never say ‘getting the garden watered’ ever again.”
Bronte snorts, shrugging. “No promises.”
“Second of all, absolutely not. And thirdly—”
“Oh, great. There’s a third.”
My eyes narrow on my best friend because, despite her ability to make jokes, I know just how serious she is. Before I can respond, my phone buzzes, and I reach over to see who it is, smiling when I see lilac hair fill my screen.
“Girl! Where the hell are you?” Veronica demands, the scenery outside her car window blurring behind her.
Her oversized sunglasses are perched on top of her head, and despite the long, grueling day she’s no doubt had, her makeup is as flawless as ever.
I look like an unmade bed two hours into my day most of the time.
I let out an exhausted sigh.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to go.”
Veronica scoffs, offended that I’d boycott another press conference.
The truth is, there is no need for me to go to all of them.
The team was filming for a charity, then went on to attend a luncheon where wealthy sponsors drank champagne and talked about the upcoming games for the rest of the season.
Those same faces attend all of them, and I wasn’t up for small talk today.
Besides, Bronte is here, and I wasn’t about to leave her stranded for work.
I’ve done enough of that over the years.
“Neither did I, bitch. Neither did I. Anyways, the event was the same as always. I spent the last three hours scared shitless for what those broody assholes would say the minute the cameras were on them. So… nothing new.”
“I’m so glad I’m not the PR manager.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not for the faint of heart, that’s for damn sure.
I swear they’ll be the fucking death of me.
” She glances away from the road for half a second before rolling her eyes dramatically.
“Do you know how many thirsty journalists were there, questioning when Pack Ars Mortis were planning on settling down? I swear, they’re asking for themselves, not because they’re even remotely interested in writing a damn article about the team. ”
“Let me guess, Sports Weekly,” I let out a breathy laugh, because it’s true.
I’ve observed enough since I started, and even a corpse could see the long line of women they each have waiting for a sliver of attention from them.
The players themselves don’t even seem to notice half the time.
Or maybe they do and simply don’t care. Either way, attention follows them everywhere.
Interviews, fans, charity galas. Thirst trap videos that fans make of them online.
It never ends for them. Women scream their names from the stands.
Social media practically worships them. Entire comment sections are dedicated to debating who is hottest, who they’d want to knot, and who they’d want to marry.
People spend hours editing thirst-trap videos and interviews where they say two words, and suddenly half the internet is ovulating.
And they eat it up. Why wouldn’t they? They’re young, attractive, successful, and worshipped by thousands.
Which means whatever strange tension I’ve been feeling between Ars Mortis probably isn’t unique at all.
How many women have stood where I stood with Dominic the other day?
How many have caught Holden looking at them with those hot as fuck eyes of his?
How many have mistaken Sasha’s intensity for interest?
I’m not stupid. Men like him don’t spend their lives waiting for someone.
They don’t look at an Omega and suddenly forget the hundreds of others throwing themselves at their feet.
They don’t spend their days pining over fleeting attractions or whatever it is between us.
While I’m aware that it’s great for the team to have such media coverage and popularity, I can’t deny I feel a little…
insecure. Not because of all the attention, but because if they were mine, nothing would change.
I would be an afterthought to the one love they equally share.
Hockey and the life that comes with it. I understand.
Hockey has a way of doing that to a person, especially star players like them.
But all of that means their reactions to me are dime a dozen, and I’m right to not go there for that reason alone.
I ignore the small parts of me that feel a little envious about that, because I don’t want to unpack them right now. Especially when I’ve made my decision, and I’m sticking to it. The team is off limits. Period.
“Yeah, Sports fucking Weekly,” Veronica confirms with a groan, pulling me from my thoughts. Bronte snorts beside me.
“Wait, is that the infamous Bronte?”
“The one and only,” Bronte says proudly, practically shoving her face into the frame. Veronica’s eyes widen.
“Oh my fucking God, Lennon, she’s beautiful. You’re beautiful!” Bronte gasps dramatically, placing a hand over her heart as if she’s genuinely shocked by this revelation.
“What are you doing now? You can come over if you’d like? We’re about to have pizza.”
Bronte’s eyes light up, then takes the phone from my hands, then jumps off the couch.
“Okay, first things first. Do you reverse park? Because the visitor spot is a bitch. Also, are you allergic to dogs? Because there’s one that likes to judge people from the balcony opposite us. And do you like rom com’s?”
Maybe I don’t need a pack? Maybe this is what I need.
To be surrounded by people who understand me in a way no man ever will.
Listening to my best friend and my PR manager become soulmates in under sixty seconds, I decide that women really do work terrifyingly fast, and for the first time since my dad died, I find myself looking forward to tomorrow.