Chapter 2
When Cody’s alarm went off, he had just enough presence of mind to grope for the foil packet he’d left on the nightstand, peeling it open with shaking fingers.
Without his meds to dull the need to be touched, the loneliness, the worthlessness, was a stabbing ache.
Red and poker-hot, it was an old, familiar pain.
No one wants you, that pain always said. You’re not worth someone wanting you.
Cody knew that already, and he didn’t need his fucking heat reminding him of the fact every four months like clockwork.
As always, he had to fight down the urge to gag as the sublingual dissolved under his tongue. He hated having to take the stupid inhibitors. The taste was always so vile, and there had actually been a few times he hadn’t been able to keep the medicine down.
Those had been bad days.
But small mercies, there was no issue this time.
He swallowed, shuddering, then forced himself out of bed, but a particularly awful cramp sent him to his knees.
He crawled over to his bag and dry-swallowed another two painkillers, then grabbed his aerosol scent-blocker, dousing himself while he was still sitting on the floor.
It took a couple of tries for Cody to lever himself to his feet. He breathed through the pain as best he could, then managed to get dressed. He still needed to take a second to rest before he was able to get on his shoes.
By sheer force of will, he straightened his back and left his hotel room.
He had a game to win.
***
The locker room was a thick mass of alpha and beta scent, and Cody furiously focused on getting his gear on and getting onto the ice.
He hurt, and the scents were nigh overwhelming, but he was no stranger to pain, especially not this kind.
He could play through it. He would play through it.
He had before, and he’d do it again now.
He forced the pain to work for him, forced it to focus him down.
It made him angrier on the ice but he used that to his advantage, using his fury to fuel the speed he was so well known for.
He hated this, hated hurting and slicking and being a slave to base instincts if he wasn’t medicated to the gills, hated other teams and all the press and half the sponsors looking down on him when all he wanted to do was play hockey—
He didn’t see the check coming.
One second he was lining up a shot, the next he was being slammed into the boards. He tried to struggle against the wall of muscle pinning him down, the aggressive stench of pheromones from an undesired alpha making him gag. “Get off fucker!”
He was able to turn his head just enough to see Lombardi’s face twisted in an ugly smirk. “Ready to drop to your knees yet, omega?”
“Not for you,” Cody spat, using his anger to cover how close he was, how hungry he was, how much he hurt.
He could feel the heat of the body pressed against his own, and hated himself for wishing someone would press against him without the intent to harm.
He didn’t need it. He didn’t fucking need it, and no one wanted to anyway and so it didn’t matter.
He heard a snarl, followed by a string of Russian curses, and then Lombardi’s weight disappeared from his back.
It took Cody altogether too long to spin around, but he was just in time to see the linesmen pull Sergei, one of the Cougars’ d-men, off Lombardi.
Lombardi no longer had his helmet and his nose was bleeding.
Sergei must have been completely on the offensive, because he didn’t seem to have a scratch on him.
He looked a strange mix of pissed off and pleased with himself as he was led away to the penalty box.
Next thing Cody knew, Leo was skating up, his grass and rain scent a pathetically welcome breath of fresh air after Lombardi’s reek. “You okay?”
“Let’s fucking win this thing,” Cody said, clenching his teeth and turning away.
***
They won 4–1, which was all the payback Cody needed, but the after-game media was brutal. He was exhausted and hurt, though he could at least pass off his shaking hands and even shakier voice as being tired after a game.
They asked about Lombardi’s check, because of course they did.
Cody did his best to school his features and give bland answers, holding onto his composure by a thread so that he didn’t rise to the bait.
Snapping or talking back never ended well for him.
All it did was give everyone more fodder about how omegas were too high strung to be playing pro.
Last Cody checked, he wasn’t the one slamming people into the boards and then spitting sexual harassment in their ear, but what did he know.
The bright side of every reporter in the locker room jostling to stick a microphone in his face was that the locker room was empty when they were finally herded out. The rest of the team was either in the showers or already dressed and waiting outside.
Cody shucked his gear quickly, then sprayed it all with his scent blocker before bolting into the showers, still wearing his briefs and clutching his scent-blocking soap.
Once under the spray, he let the water and soap wash away the sweat and his scent, deadening the pheromones enough for him to beeline for his stall and hurriedly redress, spraying himself with another layer of scent-blocker for good measure.
Time went a little blurry as he made his way out of the rink.
He heard the guys talking excitedly around him, making plans to go out for dinner and drinks, celebrating the win, but he couldn’t summon up the energy to join the conversation.
He heaved himself into the bus with effort, dropping into the first open seat.
Fucking ow, he hurt. And his scent-blockers wouldn’t be worth much if he didn’t get back to the hotel soon, what with his libido inhibitor set to wear off in the next hour or two
God, he hated this.
Someone cleared their throat in the way people did when they wanted to get your attention but weren’t exactly sure how to go about it. Cody pried his eyelids open.
“Oh, hey Sergei,” Cody said when his vision focused. Sergei was sitting in the seat in front of Cody’s, but had turned around in his seat to frown down at him over the back of it.
Sergei Volkov was the most recent addition to the Detroit Cougars—new for the season, his contract bought out from the KHL only a few months ago.
He was an excellent defenseman, enormous, and had been making a reputation for himself as a ruthless enforcer.
Off the ice, he was quiet and mostly kept to himself.
Cody had seen him open up some around the guys on the team who spoke Russian though, so he kind of figured it was a language barrier thing, coupled with being new to the States and uncertain.
Mostly Cody just tried to be as friendly as possible.
That was harder when he felt like shit.
Still, at the very least, Cody could thank the giant Russian for being on it tonight. “Uh, thanks, by the way. For earlier.”
Sergei nodded, mouth scrunching down unhappily. “Is dirty hockey,” he rumbled in his thick accent.
“What is, big guy?” Cody asked, trying to restart his tired, pain-fogged brain.
Sergei stared at him, blue eyes narrowing.
“Oh—” Cody winced. “You mean the check? It, you know, happens. To me, I mean. I mean, checks happen in general, obviously. But…you know. Knot brains just like picking on the—me.”
Before he could keep babbling, he was hit with another cramp, this one so strong and painful that it left him dizzy. He couldn’t focus on whatever Sergei said next, only surfacing in time to hear someone ask a question in Russian.
Which Cody did not speak, so probably they weren’t speaking to him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled to Sergei. “Kind of tired. Just gonna…close my eyes, sorry.”
There was no response, so Cody let himself drift into a hazy pain-filled doze until the bus rolled to a stop in front of the hotel, and everyone began filing off.
Through sheer force of will and the art of long practice, Cody put one foot in front of the other until he was standing outside his hotel room door. It took four tries to get the keycard to work, but then he was finally, finally in his own space and away from prying eyes.
He’d done it. He’d done the hard thing.
Before he knew it, he was sinking to his knees, pressing a fist to his mouth to muffle his sobs. Alone alone alone. Alone and unwanted. He was in heat and no one was ever going to want him, not in a way that was real. In a way that mattered, in a way that was safe.
“Focus,” he hissed to himself, angrily wiping at his eyes. “Focus, focus, you’re fine.”
It took several long minutes, but eventually Cody was able to uncurl from where he’d collapsed on the floor and shakily push himself to his feet.
Being alone in his room with only his own scent for company made nausea swirl in his gut, a promise of what was to come if he spent his heat by himself.
He did his best to ignore it. Especially since he needed to eat.
He’d barely eaten all day and he’d just played a game, and he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything at all once his libido inhibitor wore off.
He needed to get the calories while he could.
Cody stumbled over to the hotel phone and called in an order to room service, trying to get high calories but still something he’d be willing to eat.
He settled on a double-order of salmon and mashed potatoes because it would be easy to get down, as well as a chocolate milkshake just be-fucking-cause.
They told him about how long it would be and he thanked the desk and hung up.
Time blurred again, and Cody resurfaced to the buzz of his phone in his pocket. He pulled it out and peered down at it.
A phone call. Leo.
“’Lo?” Cody managed, uncurling a little on his cold, empty bed.
“Cody?” Leo asked. “Where are you?”
What? “I’m in my room,” Cody said, mouth dry. Had he had anything to drink since the game? He couldn’t remember.
“You didn’t come out to dinner?” Leo asked, sounding upset.
“Tired,” Cody mumbled. “Ordered room service.”
“Fuck, Cody, why didn’t you say something?” Leo said. “I could have stayed behind with you.”
“S’okay,” Cody managed. “Wouldn’t have been good company.”
“Do you need anything? I could bring you back something from dinner. Or—” A moment’s hesitation. “Do you…do you have enough bedding and stuff?”
Why would Cody need more bedding? “I’m good,” Cody said, breathing through another cramp.
There was a sharp pause.
“Okay,” Leo said. He still sounded unhappy, which made Cody feel even worse. He didn’t want to make Leo upset. Cody just felt so bad.
“Try to get some rest,” Leo said next. “Text or call me if there’s anything you need, okay? I don’t care what time it is. Can you promise me you’ll do that?”
“‘Kay,” Cody heard himself say.
A quiet exhale. “Okay, Cody. Rest up.”
The call disconnected, and Cody had to bite back the whimper at being alone again.
He wished he weren’t alone.
He wished…
He wished Leo was here. That Cody really could have asked Leo to his room without worrying about the consequences.
Leo was just so good. He was always looking after everyone on the team—always looking after Cody.
Checking in when Cody had a bad day, like he’d just done.
Or making sure Cody ate enough when Cody was struggling to keep his weight up during a season.
Offering a strong, solid support when Cody just needed to lean against someone for a little while.
Leo was one of the few people Cody trusted, at least as much as Cody could trust anyone.
He was kind to Cody even when Cody was snippy, and—and he gave really nice hugs.
Cody didn’t allow himself them a whole lot but…
once in a while he'd let Leo draw him in, and Cody would get to feel warm and enveloped and safe.
Like he was someone worth caring about. Someone Leo thought was worth caring about.
And he smelled so fucking good. Cody had never really considered sun-warmed grass and fresh rain a comforting smell, nor a delicious one, but he spent altogether too much time wishing he could bury his face in Leo’s neck and just inhale.
Preferably while Leo was holding him close, with just the right amount of pressure.
Cody pushed his face into his hands and tried to breathe, tried to ignore the fact that just thinking about Leo had gotten his body flushed and interested—fuck. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t think about Leo like this. Leo was his friend. He was Cody’s captain.
If Leo found out about Cody’s stupid crush, he’d put distance between them. He’d want to keep things professional, so that they could still play together. He’d be forced to try to gentle Cody through being told that Leo wasn’t interested.
Leo would withdraw, and Cody would lose out on the best friendship he’d ever had.
One thing at a time. Just get through this heat like you’ve gotten through all the others. You’ll be fine on your own.
You’ll be fine.