5. Kallis
Kallis
Ahuge cheer bounces around the walls of the small room, and I curl my toes in my flat shoes so I don’t flinch.
It’s full to the brim with alphas of every size and flavor, and I don’t know where to look. It’s a sea awash with yellow and brown uniforms, yellow banners hanging on the walls, and what could be a taxidermy bear statue looming over us from the far side of the room.
After spending years working in sterile environments that are covered in scent-blocking mists, with every staff member required to take suppressants, it’s difficult to stomach the change.
“As you all know, we’ve gathered here today to say goodbye to our fondest friend! The truest member of the family there ever was!”
I hover behind a row of men who stand at the front of the room. If I remember correctly, it’s the owner, coach, a slew of managers, and the team captain, whom I’m forcing myself not to look at.
I’ve taken enough suppressants that it should prevent any reactions similar to when I met Orso Williams a month ago. It’s simply bad timing that, just as I’ve finally restrained my omega side, I have to meet them again. And my focus keeps drifting because he’s suddenly two feet away from me.
I thought the Bears would be more disappointed about losing their biggest game yesterday, along with their chance to enter the playoffs, but they all cheer again.
The only women I can see are a number of staff from different departments, as well as Aspen, who stands next to her husband, the pair consoling a crying old man.
I’m not exactly the most social person in the world, but even so. It’s 8 a.m., I’m holding a glass of Bucks Fizz, and the team owner is calling me forward.
“And here she is! Our lovely new manager for our medical team. Of course, no one can replace the man who has served the Bears diligently for sixty years, but we know Dr. Tully will live up to his name! So welcome to the family!”
The owner keeps enthusiastically repeating the word ‘family’ when, just from a glance at the room, it’s clear from the array of a hundred or more faces staring relentlessly at me that they are unrelated.
But they are related instead by their heavy glares, which I assume imply they believe I’ve stolen the old doctor’s job.
Or that could be my general anxiety. Or maybe they all know how much rests on this moment.
I’ve already made my decision to come here, and now it’s up to me to make a good impression.
I told Aspen she was right; it was the game a month ago that changed everything. My decision had nothing to do with the clover-scented alpha that keeps squinting at me, or the two alphas at the back of the crowd that I’m doing whatever I can to pretend I haven’t noticed either.
It’s merely a coincidence that I’m taking long, slow breaths, sifting through the scents to find the three I crave. Luckily, anger has turned Orso’s scent bitter, so I’m not as distracted as I was when we first met.
I knew this would happen when I arrived, and I thought I’d prepare myself with a number of pep talks and other activities to quell my newly awakened libido.
But that was before I actually had to stand in front of them and feel their heavy gazes.
“She’ll do her induction during the off-season, and you’ll start working with her when you return in August for a month of training before we kick off. She’s only here for a season, but that doesn’t mean she’s not ours! So, what do you say, Dr. Tully, are you ready to join the family?”
The owner clears his throat, and I look up at him. It’s hard not to grimace at his use of ‘ours’. I’ve never appreciated being seen as a token, and with this many alphas involved, it makes it even worse.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” I say, taking a drink to avoid the awkwardness. For a crowd of rowdy alphas, they are definitely good at silence.
“Speech!” someone yells, and my head tilts.
“I didn’t realize you wanted me to say something,” I reply to the request, and the jolly owner gives another bellowing laugh. He’s a head taller than everyone else in the room, and intimidating enough that I want to back away, right into Orso.
I can’t tell if Mathan Seely and Artie Cadell recognize me from that game. But I researched the team thoroughly before I arrived, and I certainly know them.
Part of me hopes they don’t remember me. Then I can block my scent for the whole season while praying I don’t get caught in the Bears’ trap.
I’ve worked with alphas all my life, and I think I can handle them, until the owner wraps his arm around me, his large hand slapping me on my shoulder.
I freeze as tension floods me. It goes straight from the pressure of his hand down to my feet, as if he’s pinning me to the spot.
He keeps talking to the crowd, repeating the word ‘family’ over and over, but I can’t hear him.
My tension escalates, and my chest tightens, and I can’t escape because I have to put on a performance.
Every word he accents, he taps me, sending a shock through my system. Logically, I know it’s simply a physical response because of how my parents treated me when I was young. But that doesn’t mean I can stop it.
I’m shutting down quickly, and I need help. If he doesn’t get off me, I’ll stop breathing, or I could pass out. It’s happened before.
Ever since I could walk, I was expected to represent Dad and Mom at any function they attended.
They would pinch my arms and poke my back if I gave the wrong answer.
It was an effective learning strategy, but an alpha looming over me like this is too much.
I throw Aspen blank looks that will mean nothing to a stranger.
She’s already trying to reach me. But before she can detach herself from the crying doctor, Orso is there.
He knocks the owner’s hand away and leans in so close that his shoulder presses the spot the owner was hitting.
It should make it worse. I should be spiraling because more than one person is involved.
But tingles erupt as his angry clover washes over me like a balm, and I’m suddenly able to move again.
“Hey there, maybe give her some space to breathe before shoving your whole speech mojo on her.” Orso’s rough voice rolls over me. Before I can react, he’s standing in front of me, blocking me from the crowd.
Curled black hair sweeps over deeper green eyes, and the straight line of his nose leads to thinned lips as he glares. He looks even better when he’s not hitting on me with a head wound.
My chest releases, and I want to hold on to him as I hide my gasp. Because clover trembles through me, and my body relaxes.
“Thank you,” I croak, and he gives me a hard smile. I can’t tell if he remembers me from the rink, either. “How’s your head?” I ask.
I rarely want to touch people, just as I hate being touched. But I’m close to reaching up and running my fingers through his hair. Only to see if there is any lasting damage, of course.
I have wondered since that day if breaking the bond impacted his head wound and healing time at all.
It would be useful for the CTE study, but I’ve also technically contaminated a sample.
It means I could exclude him from the study and not have to interact with him outside of treatments, except that would raise its own set of questions.
“Have we met before?” he asks as his brow furrows.
More relief fills me, but my expression turns even colder, like it always does when I’m put on the spot.
My lips part but I have no answer, because need and anger still bubbles in me from the bite that scarred my wrist.
We both jump as Aspen’s laugh cuts through the moment.
Love rushes through me as she steps forward, not so casually nudging the owner with her shoulder as she smoothly encourages me away from the pair with grace.
From the way my body hums as we leave Orso’s side, I think I may have underestimated how difficult this job will be.
“Come on, Bee, you can say a few words, can’t you?” Aspen asks with an easy smile. Her flowery yellow dress reminds me of a songbird, and I’m sure she can handle it better than me.
It isn’t as if I haven’t given presentations before, but I spend time writing and rehearsing them rather than coming up with something on the spot.
I turn to the crowd. “Thank you for hiring me. I appreciate the opportunity, and I pray I never have to see any of your faces soon,” I say.
The room plunges into silence as everyone stills. But I mean it: I don’t want them to get hurt before, during, or after their summer break, even if my research requires head wounds.
Aspen instantly laughs again, covering the nervous chuckles in the crowd.
“Thanks so much, Bee! We love a good joke on our team. I’m sure you’ll fit right in!”
“I wasn’t joking,” I say coldly, and nerves claw at my chest as I realize I’ve made a huge error.
Another silence descends around us, and rather than endure it, I opt for my last resort whenever I feel like I can’t salvage a situation.
“Excuse me,” is all I say before I promptly stride toward the door and escape the stares.
I don’t think I could have introduced myself more awkwardly if I tried.
I wanted to make a positive impression on all of them, but as usual, any efforts to show I care have ended in failure.
Leaving is probably the worst thing I can do, especially when chattering erupts as the door swings closed behind me.
But it’s better than making it worse by attempting to explain myself.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to fix it, but I can at least get rid of the gnawing hunger that the three Bears have reawakened in me.