6. Calvin
Chapter 6
T he puck slams into my glove, rattling my bones. The sting barely registers. My body is here, but my mind isn’t. Coach’s voice blends into the background, a steady stream of barking orders. He’s been relentless this morning, pushing us through drill after drill.
Two years. Two years in the Alpha Cup finals, and two years coming up short. Losing to the Bears was one thing. But last year, losing to the Iron Wolves, that one still stings. Coach hasn’t let us forget it.
An easy puck goes by my right leg.
“Focus, Calvin, don't be an idiot!” Coach's voice cuts across the rink. “You’re letting soft ones through! This isn’t a damn tea party!”
I snap back to attention. I’m the last line of defense. A goalie can’t afford to drift. But it’s been hard ever since she arrived.
Daisy.
I shake my head, trying to clear the image. Her soft smile, the way her blue eyes crinkle, the gentle way she holds William. And the dreams. Ever since that car ride. Vivid, relentless dreams filled with her. They’re messing with my head.
A slap shot flies in, fast and precise. I react late. The puck hits the net. That’s three since we started. Three easy saves I should have had.
“Calvin! Get your head in the game!” Coach looks close to an aneurysm. His face is nearly purple. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I clench my jaw, struggling to find an explanation for this restless, unshakable feeling. The urge to be back at the house, to check on Daisy, gets worse with every second. It makes no sense. She’s a Beta. Just the nanny. We hired her to care for William, nothing more. But that scent—subtle at first, a floral trace barely noticeable—has been growing stronger. She insists she isn’t wearing anything, no perfume, no oils, yet it lingers in the air, teasing at something buried deep inside me. When she first arrived, she smelled like nothing at all, a blank space, an absence. Now, she’s anything but.
It’s crawling under my skin. I’ve never felt this way before, not even with the Omegas we’ve courted in the past. They never quite did it for us, never felt right. This is different. This is confusing.
The whistle blows."Ten minute break, get your fucking heads screwed on right!"
End of the drill. I skate toward the bench, tearing off my mask and gulp down water. It doesn’t help. My mind won’t stop racing. I glance at the clock. 7:30 AM. Still hours before practice ends. Hours before I can go home. Hours before I can… what? See her again? Make sure she’s alright? The thought is ridiculous. She’s capable. She’s taking care of William. That’s her job.
But the nagging feeling persists, a knot tightening in my chest. I hate this. I hate this uncertainty, this feeling of not understanding my own instincts. I just want to go home. But Coach is determined to make us bleed for the Alpha Cup.
I slam my water bottle down. I have to focus. On hockey. On anything but Daisy.
Easier said than done.
Minutes later, coach blows the whistle again, sharp and shrill. We line up for the next drill, a rapid-fire succession of shots. It’s designed to test reflexes, agility, and concentration. All things I’m struggling with today.
The first few pucks come. I block them, relying on muscle memory, but my movements are sluggish. I can feel Coach’s stare burning into me, his silence heavier than any shouted insult.
Another shot.
Another miss.
The puck sails past my outstretched pad and slaps against the back of the net.
“Calvin!” Coach’s voice is pure fury. “What was that? You’re playing like a fucking rookie!”
I grind my teeth. I have to get it together. I need to prove myself, to show Coach, and myself, that I’m still the best goalie on the ice.
I breathe deep, focusing on the shooter, the angle of his stick, the slightest movement of his blade. The next shot comes, a rocket of a slap shot, and I react. My body moves on instinct, glove flashing up, snatching the puck mid-air. The next shot, a tricky backhander; I deflect it with my blocker, tracking the rebound. My body remembers what my mind is struggling to grasp. Save after save, I force myself back into rhythm, pushing Daisy to the back of my thoughts.
But she lingers. Every break, every pause, she’s there. Her scent, her face, the way William curls against her when she holds him. It’s like an invisible thread, yanking me away from the ice, dragging me back to her.
The whistle blows again. Another drill over. I skate to the bench. Nate left early this morning, too, to deal with more funeral details. Peter’s off handling business, like always, but he should be home sometime today. Which means Daisy’s at the house alone with William.
A surge of protectiveness flares in my chest, sharp and instinctual. It makes no sense. She’s a Beta. There’s no reason for this. But my inner Alpha doesn’t care about reason. It’s restless, pacing, urging me home.
Must protect.
Coach’s voice snaps me out of it. “Alright, you lazy Alphas! Suicide sprints! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!" He claps hard. "You call yourselves professionals? You look like a bunch of amateurs out there!”
I groan inwardly, then push off, joining the others at the goal line. Suicide sprints. Full speed, no slowing down. The first few strides burn through my legs, my skates digging into the ice as I force my body forward. The rush of air fills my lungs, but it isn’t enough. My thighs scream, my chest tightens, but I keep going. Faster. Harder. The physical strain pulls me into the moment, drowning out everything else. The ice, the motion, the burn—it's all that matters. It has to be.
Lap after lap, I force my body to keep moving, pushing through the ache in my legs. My breath comes in sharp bursts, chest heaving, lungs burning with every stride. The ice blurs beneath me, my skates cutting deep as I fight through the exhaustion. This drill is brutal, punishing, designed to break us down, to test who can endure.
Coach’s whistle cuts through the air, but he doesn’t call for a stop. A test to see which ones of us are pussies and will stop first. I refuse to be the one who slows down. I push harder, grinding my teeth, willing my body to keep going. Faster. Stronger. I have to outlast this. I have to prove myself. I have to drown out everything but the ice beneath me.
Finally, the whistle blows. The end of practice. I sag against the boards, gasping for air, sweat dripping down my face.
“Shower up!” Coach claps his hands. “And get the hell out of my sight! I expect to see a lot more effort tomorrow!”
Normally, I’d hit the showers, take my time. But today, the thought of lingering is unbearable. The protective instinct has taken root, sinking its claws into me.
I strip off my gear in record time, ignoring the glances from my teammates. I pull my clothes over my damp skin, grab my bag, and head for the exit.
I need to get home. I need to see her. I know she’s fine, but that knowledge doesn’t stop the gnawing, primal urge. It doesn’t stop the irrational feeling that I need to be there. I feel like I’m losing my mind, and the only way to quiet the beast inside me is to get back to the house.
Back to Daisy.
The drive home passes in a blur, my thoughts racing even faster than they were during practice. I keep picturing alphas who aren't in our pack breaking in to try and hurt Daisy. But after a long twenty minutes, I pull into the driveway and kill the engine.
I leap out, striding toward the front door. The moment I shove it open, her scent crashes into me—stronger, richer than it was yesterday, wrapping around me like an invisible tether pulling me in. My Alpha stirs more, needing to see and be near her.
"Daisy?" My voice comes out rough.
"In here!" Her voice carries down from upstairs.
I take the stairs two at a time, reaching the nursery doorway in seconds.
Daisy is stretched out on the floor, lying on the knitted blanket Stacey made for William. He’s on his stomach, legs kicking, head bobbing up with effort. Tummy time. She faces him, her expression warm, encouragement shining in her eyes as she coaxes him along.
"That's it. You can do it, lift that head, kick those legs." Her fingers brush along his back.
Seeing her interact with William and being a motherly figure to him shouldn't turn me on, but God help me it is.
"Hey." I step into the room.
Daisy looks up, startled, then smiles. "Hey. You're back early."
"Yeah, well." I shrug, trying to appear casual, ignoring the way my pulse has doubled in the last two seconds. "Coach decided we'd suffered enough." I pause, looking from her to William. "How's he doing?"
"Good." Her smile widens at him. "He's getting so strong. Look at him holding his head up."
I move closer, crouching down beside them. William gurgles, kicking his legs. A genuine smile tugs at my lips. "Yeah, he is. Good job, little man."
The scent is stronger here, closer to Daisy. That floral aroma. It's intoxicating. The scent is stronger here, wrapping around me, coaxing something deep inside me to pay attention. It’s too much. I straighten, forcing myself to take a step back, to put some distance between us before my thoughts stray further.
My Alpha brain settles a bit, knowing I'm home. She's protected, and she's okay, so I can stop coming up with horrible scenarios. Why is this happening at all? She’s a Beta. She has to be. The agency confirmed it. And yet, her scent calls to me like how I imagine it would for a compatible omega.
Even when I first met her, there was nothing to her scent. Now, this floral aroma shows up. Could she have lied and used pheromone suppressants to weasel her way into this job? Possible, but those usually add a metallic odor to the omegas who use them.
Could she be a late-presenting Omega? Why now? Twenty-four is the oldest I’ve ever heard of someone presenting, she's older than that.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. "I'm going to grab some water. Long day." I back away, towards the door, feeling the need to put some more space between us, to get my head straight.
I bolt downstairs, taking the steps fast, needing space, needing air, needing anything to clear my head. I need water and maybe some food. Something to distract me from this confusion. Opening the fridge, I grab a bottle and press it to my forehead, letting out a sigh. I’ve felt unhinged since the moment I woke up, and the sensation has only intensified as the day drags on.
Cracking it open, I down some of my water. I'm home now, so the thoughts about her should calm down. My inner alpha needs to come to terns that she's a beta, and not only that, she's working for us. Nate and Peter would kill me if I ever looked at her with a hint of desire. Betas can’t take Alpha knots. It wouldn’t work. It would be a disaster—no matter how much some primal part of me wants to believe otherwise.
Every muscle in my back stiffens as her footsteps come down the stairs and toward the kitchen. A moment later, she steps into view, cradling William against her chest.
I clear my throat. "Everything okay?"
"Fine." There's a slight tremor in her voice. "We can only do tummy time for a few minutes every time he's up during the day. So now it's time for his feeding and see if he's sleepy."
My gaze lingers on her as she brushes past. A light flush colors her cheeks and neck, and a glance at her eyes tells me they're dilated. All signs of heat. But she seems composed. Too composed for an Omega in heat.
"Are you feeling okay?" The question slips out.
She turns her head to meet my eyes briefly, then looks away, a frown creasing her forehead. "Fine. Just a little tired. It's been a long day."
An Omega in heat wouldn’t be able to hide it like this. They wouldn’t be standing there, moving calmly, speaking like everything is fine. I must be wrong. I have to be.
I clear my throat, forcing myself to focus on something, anything, other than the way her presence is affecting me. "I grabbed some water." I hold up the bottle awkwardly and I want to have the floor open up. Why did I say that?
Daisy nods, her attention focused on preparing William's bottle. "It's good to stay hydrated after a hard practice."
I can’t look away. Every movement pulls me in—the gentle sway of her hips, the effortless way she moves, the quiet care in every action as she steps up to the bottle-making station Nate set up the night William arrived. It makes the perfect warm bottle every time. Like a Keurig for babies.
She tilts her head to the side and her light blonde hair falls away, exposing the nape of her neck. My dick perks up at the sight of it and I have to shift from foot to foot, adjusting myself. Fuck, I hope she doesn't glance this way, or she's going to see how I'm staring at her like a man who hasn't gotten laid in a while. It's true, I haven't, but random omega puck bunny hookups aren't doing it for me anymore.
"I, uh…" I stammer, my voice rougher than usual. I clear my throat. "I'm going to take a shower. Be back down later. Come and get me, though, if you need anything."
I don't wait for a response, don't even give her a chance to look up at me. I don’t look back. My feet carry me up the stairs two at a time, my body moving on instinct, desperate for the privacy of my room. Maybe the cold water will snap me out of this. Maybe it won’t. But I need to try before I lose my damn mind.
I reach my bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me and locking it. I strip off my clothes, tossing them onto the floor, and step into the shower, turning the water on full blast, as cold as it will go.
The icy spray hits my skin, a welcome shock to my overheated system. I stand there with my head bowed, letting the water wash over me, willing the unwanted arousal, confusing thoughts, and impossible possibilities to wash away.
But even the cold water can't erase Daisy from my mind. Her soft smile, those bright eyes, the gentle curve of her body—they're burned into my thoughts. The delicate lines of her neck, the subtle curves beneath her shirt. Everything about her is tormenting me.
I grit my teeth and clench my fists, feeling insane for even considering this. She's the nanny, a Beta. It shouldn't be happening. Logic has abandoned me, replaced entirely by primal need.
I tilt my face upward, allowing the water to stream down my face and chest. It doesn't help. If anything, the contrast between the cold water and my burning skin only intensifies the ache. I brace myself against the tile wall, struggling against the inevitable, before my hand finally moves downward. I hesitate briefly, my fingers hover over my dick.
With a groan, I finally give in. My hand wraps around my shaft, my palm warm compared to the cold water still pouring over me. A shudder races through my body, desperate for any relief from the relentless need that surges through me. The first stroke, slick and firm, sends pleasure jolting through me. I squeeze harder, setting a rhythm, hips jerking into my fist.
Eyes closed tightly, I lean into the wall for support as my hand moves faster, gripping harder, chasing the elusive climax that seems just out of reach. Images of Daisy flood my mind, each one more vivid than the last. Her soft curves, the gentle sway of her hips, the floral scent that clings to her and drives me insane with its potency. My movements become frantic, desperate, chasing a release that's close yet somehow unreachable.
Pleasure builds sharply, my muscles tense, and I gasp for breath. The pressure tightens, straining towards release. I stroke harder, rougher, pushing myself closer to that edge, driven by desperation rather than satisfaction. My breath comes in rapid pants, but the climax remains elusive.
Then it hits, sudden and sharp, my muscles locking as release finally crashes through me. A guttural sound escapes as cum spills into the drain in ropes. I didn't knot at all. It's happened only once before, with an Omega who didn't fully spark my interest. Confusion and frustration ripple through me. Even as I shudder with relief, something deeper remains unsatisfied. I lean heavily against the shower wall, chest heaving, jaw clenched. It's relief, but hollow. Now I know my Alpha won’t be satisfied until I have Daisy.
Eventually, I shut off the water, the sudden silence heavy around me. Stepping out, I towel off quickly, trying not to dwell on lingering thoughts of Daisy. After pulling on clean jeans and a T-shirt, I grab my phone and keys from the pocket of my discarded clothes. Distance might be the only solution. Maybe talking to Nate and Peter will help clarify this madness. They might have noticed something I haven't.
I head for the door, steadying myself before stepping into the hallway. Her scent hits me again, strong and unmistakable floral notes flooding my senses.
Then I hear it: a soft, distressed whimper coming from Daisy’s room, the old Omega nest.
Instinct surges, powerful and undeniable. Rational thought vanishes instantly. My Alpha roars to life, urging me forward, protective and fierce.
Our Omega needs us.
My feet move without hesitation, closing the distance. I push her door open wider and freeze at the sight that greets me.
Daisy kneels on the bed, her bare ass faces me. Her black shirt is pushed up, exposing her breasts. Her smooth pink pussy glistens with slick. Wet sounds fill the air as her fingers flick over her clit. A blue dildo sticks out of her opening. She lets out a pained whimper as she takes hold of it, thrusting it into her. Sweat drips down her brow. It looks like she's been at this a while, and hasn't been able to reach climax.
My Alpha is eager and ready. I remain frozen, torn between rational thought and overpowering instinct.
She senses me, turning her head slightly, blue eyes wide and dark with need. Her gaze locks onto mine.
"Alpha," she breathes, voice raw and pleading. "Please... help me."
Fuck.