38. Harrison

38

Harrison

" Y ou're throwing wrong!" Jackie shouts at Nils. "You have to flick your wrist more!"

If this woman yells at one of my pack mates one more time, I'm going to lose it. She's not entirely wrong. Nils could work on his throws more. He's never gotten the bounce off the water absolutely perfect, but he's a damn good player. One of the top players in the world and no one can match him for speed. He also doesn't take well to negative criticism.

But this woman can't see that. She only knows how to yell and reprimand. She's like a grumpy, angry coach and we already have one of those.

"Jackie! Focus on your own game," Dante hollers. He's sitting out this practice to save his shoulder and watch as a coach rather than be in the pool as a player.

The problem is Jackie doesn't take well to being coached.

"Fine!" she snaps, "But you need to coach these jizzweasels better."

What the fuck is a jizzweasle?

We kick back into formation and resume our scrimmage. Oz catches the ball from Ellis. Jackie lunges for Oz. Oz pumps a fake throw to Nils, and Jackie jerks back like she just got elbowed in the face. She's clutching her nose, and lets out a little scream.

Oz freezes. "I didn't hit her!"

Jackie drops her hands and laughs. "You don't practice fake fouls? God, you're so lucky I'm on your team now."

"Not on the team yet," McQuinn says from his position as goalie. McQuinn has been the most resistant to Meggie being on the team, but Jackie is wearing him down.

"I don't get down like that." Oz flings the ball to me harder than necessary. "You know I'm not cool with pulling this shit."

"No more bullshit, Jackie." Dante shoots me a glance like are you serious , but I can't even reply.

This is a disaster. I miss Meggie.

We try again. Jackie drops the ball, drawing the foul, but there was no foul.

We try again. Jackie fouls Ellis.

"Defenders can't interfere in the free throw!" Dante yells.

"Five meter rule!" Dante barks two minutes later. "Jackie, you're out." The 20 second penalty is standard for the offense.

"I'm out too," Nils hauls himself up on the edge of the pool. "I'm taking a lap."

Grabbing a towel from the bench, he dries off his hair before leaving the bleachers to go sit by the edge of the pool and talk to Ellis.

Oz slips under water like he might try to drown himself but comes up for air before death can set in.

I lift myself out of the pool, catch Jackie's eye, jerk my chin towards the bleachers, then wait for her to follow me. She picks up a towel and wraps it around herself. "I'm really glad you called me. There's no way that little shrimpy girl you picked could carry this team."

"No one person should carry us." I cross my arms over my chest. "This is a team sport."

"Right, of course," she brushes me off. "But you've got to see what a mess this team is, right? Honestly, I'm shocked that you all made it this far. At least they have you to help them see reason." She sits down, not at all bothered that I'm still standing.

There are moments in life when everything becomes clearer, more focused, like putting on a new pair of glasses. This is one of those moments. I'd planned to give Jackie a pep talk, tell her to be a team player, and restart practice. But when I open my mouth, it's crystal clear what I need to do instead. "You're out."

"What?" She shakes her head at my interruption of her rant. "What do you mean?"

"You're not on the team. This was a mistake. You're a skilled player, but not a good fit for us. I wish you all the best."

I turn and walk back towards the pool, but she catches my arm. "No! I don't think so. I'm the best player you've got."

I shake her off. "This isn't a negotiation. You're off the team."

"Finally!" Ellis says from behind me. I turn and find him and Dante wearing relieved expressions.

"You're gonna feel awful stupid about this when you don't medal!" Jackie gathers up her things and storms into the locker room while the rest of my pack gathers at the edge of the pool, some in the water and some out.

"What the fuck are we going to do now?" McQuinn says, splashing the water in his frustration.

Oz wipes droplets from his face with his palm and glares. "We'll try one of the other girls."

"Or we could just agree that Meggie's the best fit," Nils says.

"She's meant to be with us." Ellis puts his arm around his bonded, and my own arms ache to do the same with Meggie. I need her comfort right now, her quiet reassurance.

"I don't like breaking the rules." Dante is quieter than his co-conspirators, like he's still forming his own thoughts on the matter. "But I hate that she can't compete just because the IOC doesn't want to put in the effort to protect omegas."

I sigh. "I'm not arguing that it's a good rule. But—"

"I'm not breaking the law." Oz lifts himself out of the water and sits on the edge of the pool.

McQuinn hurls a ball, taking out his frustration on the water. "I'm not losing the Olympics."

"Well, I'm not going without her," Nils bites back.

McQuinn's expression drops like a heartbroken teen. It doesn't last, but for that moment, his anger shifts to hopelessness.

My pack is falling apart before my eyes, and as their leader, it's up to me to fix things. But I don't know how. There's a deep instinctual need in me to go to my omega, to seek her for comfort and guidance. Normally, the guys and I are pretty much in agreement. And when we aren't, they trust me to make the ultimate decision. This is different. I can't just decide for them, and I don't know how to navigate the discord. The weight of it all is too heavy to carry alone.

"Practice is done for the day." I don't wait to see how they respond before I leave. There's only one person I need right now, and she's not here.

***

I find Meggie in the office, reading a book. I don't enter right away, opting instead to stand in the doorway and watch her.

She's wearing Nils's sweatpants and a shirt of Dante's. Her feet are curled up under her and she's got a knit blanket from Ellis's bed across her lap. She looks beautiful, but it's her scent that really knocks me over.

Attraction and arousal aren't as straightforward as some people think. Many people are aroused by sight, the look of a person gets their attention. Demiromantics like emotional connection and personality, they need to know someone before they develop an attraction. I even had a friend in college who was most aroused by sound—his girlfriend's voice got his attention more than anything else.

When I was in my mid-twenties, I'd all but given up on ever feeling sexually attracted to someone. I started to identify as asexual but having a name for my presumed identity still didn't take away the feeling like there was something wrong with me. Then, in my senior year of college, I met someone whose scent made me feel desire in a way I'd never felt before. That's when I figured out what turned me on. Scent. A person's unique pheromones.

But no one's scent has ever affected me as much as Meggie's. It's like a drug. The moment I catch a whiff, I'm hard. It's exhilarating, but also unnerving. It makes me feel like I'm in a freefall, out of control. Some base animal instinct wants me to seize her, fuck her, bite her, claim her.

The room fills with the fragrance of campfires and crisp apple pie, my pheromones reacting to hers. I desperately fight to tamp down on my alpha instincts.

"How was practice?" She asks, without looking up.

I walk over to her, and the couch cushions sink as I sit, making Meggie's slight frame slide closer to mine. When our legs touch, she looks at me with a question in her eyes. Giving in, I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pull her in tight, and bury my nose in her hair.

This is the first time we've been alone since she stopped taking her blockers. The combined scent of us makes me think of days that balance on the edge between summer and fall. Like we're standing in that in-between space. No longer what we were, but not yet what we could be.

"Are you going to answer the question?" She says with an adorable little laugh.

"What? Oh…" I remove my nose from her hair, drop my arm, and try to get control of myself. "It wasn't great."

"Hm." She doesn't push, doesn't argue for her place on the team or rub it in my face that things aren't going well with Jackie. Of course she doesn't. Meggie isn't like the woman I was with all afternoon.

Meggie's heart and spirit are what first appealed to me. I loved her determination and work ethic. The way she took feedback in the pool. The way she fit so perfectly with the rest of my pack. That base of connection with her as a person is still there, only now there's an additional layer. A layer I'm not sure what to do about.

I've only felt sexual attraction for a handful of women—two, to be exact—but Meggie undoes me in a way neither of them ever did.

Clearing my throat, I ask, "What are you reading?"

She turns the book over so I can see the cover. A History of the Olympics.

"Did you know they didn't let betas or even female alphas into the Olympics right away? Female alphas came pretty quickly, during the second modern Olympics, and betas were only five Olympics later. But omegas? It's been more than a hundred years, and we still can't compete."

"I'm sorry, Meggie." I pull one bent leg onto the couch so I can turn and face her. "It isn't fair. But breaking the rules isn't the way to change the system."

"There have been groups trying to fight the rule the right way for decades and the committee won't budge." She drops her head over the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. Her scent takes on a more tart flavor.

"There's a good reason. If you went into heat—"

Her neck rolls along the couch so she can look at me. "That's an excuse to propagate outdated prejudices. Maybe it was true when the games first started. But we have heat suppressants now. Good ones. Though, the illegal ones are better and stronger than the ones you can get by prescription. And they tend not to work once you get too old, but most athletes compete when they're young, anyway."

"Meggie…"

"Don't Meggie me." She snaps up, adjusting, so she's sitting cross-legged facing me. "I've been on suppressants for over two years. I think I know what I'm talking about. They work."

"Like your blockers work?"

She huffs. "That's different. Yes, my scent broke through my blockers, but I haven't gone into heat, have I? And I'm not going to as long as I take my suppressants. They might not work forever, but they do work."

I nod slowly, absorbing all that she's said. My biggest concern with Meggie being on the team hasn't been my reputation or ruining my chances of running for office someday. My biggest hesitation has been the fear that she might go into heat in an environment that's predominantly made up of alphas. Powerful alphas. Alphas at the peak of their physical strength.

Could I keep Meggie safe if that happened?

As if she can read my mind, she says, "Trust me, Harrison. I wouldn't want to do this if I didn't think I could do it safely. I won't go into heat. And even if I did, there would be signs beforehand, symptoms that would give us warning. And… I trust you to take care of me if that happens."

Her hand cups my cheek, and I flinch at the electric spark that her simple touch sends straight down to my cock.

She jerks her hand away. "Sorry. I didn't mean to… the guys told me you don't find most people attractive in that way. I know you don't want that kind of relationship with me. I didn't mean to imply that you'd personally take care of me," her cheeks flame red, "I just—"

"Stop."

She stills, eyes dropping to her twitching hands in her lap. I hitch my forefinger under her chin and lift it. "I'm attracted to you, Meggie. Very attracted to you."

"Really?" Her words are a whisper.

"More than I've ever felt with anyone else."

Her jaw flexes under my hand as she swallows. Casually, like someone testing the water to see if it's cold or hot, I cup her jaw, then drag my palm down her throat until it wraps the delicate length. Her pulse beats rapidly under my fingers. Her scent thickens in the room, mixing with mine to create a heady concoction.

My alpha instincts roar to the surface. Demanding that I make this woman mine .

Fuck. Bite. Claim. Claim. Claim.

I rub my thumb over her pulse point and down to her shoulder. That's where I'll bite her. Right at the base of her neck. My grip tightens. She sucks in a breath. I lean forward and rub my cheek against hers. "You're intoxicating to me."

Again, she swallows, and I feel the muscles move under my palm. Keeping hold of her, I tilt her head and drop my lips to her delicate shoulder. Her scent is a drug, calling me closer, making me dizzy.

I suck the place where her shoulder meets her neck. Her skin tastes like she smells, sweet apple pie with a touch of salt from her sweat. My teeth ache and my cock pulses. I suck harder, wanting to bruise her, mark her. Claim her. She's mine.

Breaking away to see the red mark I've left, I lick her neck and imagine dragging my tongue over every inch of her skin. I can't get enough of her. A kiss on the bruised skin, and she whimpers. Her breaths are fast and heavy, chest heaving.

"Do it," she whispers, "Please, alpha."

My pulse thunders. Mine. Mine. Mine.

My skin prickles, muscles tighten, ears ring. All I know is that sweet scent. It consumes me. Rules me. Guides me.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

I open my mouth, exposing my teeth, ready to claim—

"What the fuck!" Heavy footsteps sound from behind, and we both jump apart.

Meggie's eyes are as wide as dinner plates. I fly off the couch, putting so much distance between us that my back hits the wall across the room and a book tumbles off the shelf. The title, Consent and The Legal Rights of Omegas , mocks and condemns me.

I was going to bite her! I was going to fucking bond her right here and now, without the consent of the rest of my pack.

Without talking about it with her! We aren't together. We haven't even kissed. And I was going to irreversibly tie her to me. My mom would have my fucking head.

Oz has the same idea. He charges forward, getting right in my face. "Tell me you weren't about to do what I think."

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of lust. Behind Oz, Meggie has a hand to the spot on her shoulder where I was about to sink my teeth. Eyes wide and lips parted, she looks entirely too kissable. But overwhelmingly stunned at what we—what I—almost just did.

"I'm so sorry." My hand rubs over my mouth. "Meggie, I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't—"

"You should know better." Oz glares at me. And he has every right to.

I'm the pack alpha, their leader. I should know better. We don't bond without talking about it as a pack. It's a promise we made to each other at the beginning.

His eyes narrow. "Did you even ask her? You looked near feral."

Shame spikes through my chest. Meggie blinks, as if she's still coming out of a stupor. She told me to do it, but I'm not sure she was thinking clearly. I know I wasn't.

"Forgive me." My ears are full of cotton, a loud pounding sensation hammering in my veins. Palms sweaty and legs shaking, I dash out of the room, avoiding the judgment I'm certain to find in Meggie's eyes.

But with each hurried step away, something inside me fights to go back. I lost control, and didn't go about things the right way, but every part of me knows one thing for certain. Meggie is meant to be mine. Ours .

She's pack. And she should be in Paris with us. No one else fits.