Chapter 1: Ember

Chapter

One

EMBER

T he ice glides beneath my blades, a familiar embrace that soothes the tension coiled in my muscles. I push harder, faster, losing myself in the rhythm of my routine. The rink is silent save for the scrape of metal on ice and the whisper of my breath.

Just the way I like it.

This is my sanctuary, my escape from the loving but maddening chaos of family and small-town life that I signed up for when I agreed to come home to Parkridge for Christmas.

A decision that already has me questioning my sanity barely half a day into the trip.

My phone buzzes insistently in my bag, shattering my concentration. I glide to a stop, chest heaving, and fish it out. Taylor's name flashes on the screen, along with a string of messages.

"Em, you're coming to the fair this afternoon, right?"

I roll my eyes, thumbs flying over the keys. "You mean the pre -pre fair? This town celebrates everything ten times over. It'll survive if I spend a couple hours practicing."

Her reply is instant. "But it's tradition! Mom and Dad are expecting you."

I stifle a groan. Of course they are. "I have a huge competition in two weeks, Tay. I can't afford to slack off, especially when our parents are going to want me involved in every little step of the festivities during the actual holiday. You might not remember this from college, but outside of Parkridge, Christmas is only one day."

"Yeah, boring places," she responds, and I can practically hear her pout through the phone. "Just make sure you're back in time for the bonfire."

I sigh. "I'll do my best."

"How are you holding up?" Taylor's next message reads. "Have you heard from Jake?"

The mention of my ex sends a spike of irritation through me. "No, and I don't want to. He made it clear where he stands."

"Em, I'm sorry. He's an idiot for not understanding how important your career is."

I snort. "Yeah, well, apparently caring about my dreams makes me a bad omega. Heaven forbid I don't revolve my entire life around an alpha."

That's the whole reason I settled for him and not a pack, anyway. And there were plenty who came courting.

It's taken me the full three weeks of pining and drowning my sorrows in pint after pint of Raunchy Rocky Road and my favorite comfort horror movies to accept that my family, my friends, and even a few strangers off the street were right.

I settled for Jake.

Is it a bad sign that I shed more tears over the fact I was wrong than I did the relationship itself?

"You'll find someone who appreciates your drive," Taylor assures me. "Not all alphas expect you to throw away your dreams for them. Just look at me and Matt."

She's right, of course. My sister's relationship is everything every omega dreams of. Matt is tall, dark, and handsome with a thriving legal career, and they have two beautiful children and a quaint mini mansion right here in Parkridge. Not only did he not ask her to give up her dream of opening a bakery, he worked remotely for a year to take care of the kids while she was finishing up culinary school. And he was right there beside her, cutting the ribbon when she opened her shop.

My parents' relationship is just as idyllic. They met in high school and Dad knew she was his scent match from the moment she literally ran into him rounding a corner and destroyed his geology diorama. They fell in love putting it back together, and the rest is my family history.

Me?

I'm zero for three on the relationship count.

You'd think I would have better odds, considering I've never even given a pack the time of day, and the more alphas at play, the higher the odds of at least one of them being a complete asshole.

Lucky me, I attract them anyway like the candy fountain attracts townies with a sweet tooth.

The last thing I wanted to do after a gnarly breakup was come home to be surrounded by my perfect family and their perfect relationships in this perfect little town that practically treats matchmaking as an Olympic sport. But even if I've become something of a Grinch over the last few years I've been pursuing my figure skating career in Sterling City, I couldn't bear the thought of disappointing them that badly.

But that doesn't mean I'm not entitled to brood a little.

At a distance.

When no one else is watching.

"Right now, all I want to appreciate is this ice time I paid for," I reply, hoping to end the conversation.

Taylor gets me more than anyone does, and she knows the mask of nonchalance I'm wearing right now is just that—a mask. But it's not one I feel like taking off anytime soon.

"Point taken, sis. Enjoy the you time, but we'll save you a s'more."

I can't help but smile at the screen, tapping out a quick thanks before I get back into the right headspace.

I toss my phone back into my bag and push off, determined to lose myself in the routine once more. The familiar movements ground me, each jump and spin a testament to years of hard work and dedication. For a blissful hour, there's nothing but me, the ice, and the music in my head.

The loud creak of the rink door shatters my focus. I stumble out of a spin, whipping around to see who else has decided to interrupt my much-needed practice time.

Four men saunter in, laughing and shoving each other like overgrown boys and their chaos immediately dissolves the serenity of the ice. They're dressed in blue-and-gray jerseys outfitted in padding that makes their already larger-than-life physiques even bulkier.

But that's not what I notice first.

I may have sworn off men in general, for the foreseeable future. But even if I had cucumbers on my eyes, I wouldn't be able to miss the fact that they're obscenely gorgeous, all tall and broad-shouldered with the unmistakable swagger of alphas.

Great. Just what I need.

I grit my teeth, skating toward the edge of the rink, my sheer, shimmery blue skirt fluttering like waves around the tights I wear beneath my matching pink leotard. "Excuse me," I call out, not bothering to mask my annoyance. "This rink has been reserved."

The biggest of the group, a blond Adonis with piercing blue eyes, grins at me. "We know," he calls back. "We're the ones who reserved it."

I blink, certain I've misheard. "There has to be some mistake," I say, gliding closer in case he's having trouble hearing me. "I reserved the rink for myself. For the full week."

As I approach, their laughter between each other dies down. They all turn to look at me, expressions shifting from amusement to... something else.

Something I can't quite place.

It's unsettling, but I'm too irritated to care about the strange intensity in their gazes.

"Look," I say, coming to a stop at the barrier. "I paid good money to have this place to myself. I have a competition coming up, and I need the practice time."

The blond alpha steps forward, still smiling, but there's an edge to it now. "So do we, Cotton Candy. We've got our own competition to prepare for."

Cotton Candy ?

I blink, momentarily at a loss, until I look down at my pink-and-blue ensemble and realize where it's coming from.

But what can I say?

They're my favorite colors, and the combo looks good against my dark chestnut waves, even if they are presently tied back about as tightly as I am.

I bristle at the endearment. "Don't call me that. And what kind of competition could you possibly have that requires taking over an entire rink for a week?"

They exchange a look and the bemused smirks they had plastered on those obnoxiously handsome faces a few minutes ago return, as if they've recovered from whatever just threw them for a loop.

A darker-haired alpha with striking green eyes chuckles. "Hockey, darlin'. We're the Belmont City Reapers. Part of them, anyway."

The name clicks into place and I feel my face heat with embarrassment. Of course. The pro team that's been making waves in the league by beating the Sterling City Wolves every chance they get. I probably should recognize them, considering how often I've shared a rink with the Wolves.

But I've never even been to a game.

Especially not when Jake started to buy into those tabloid rumors that I was dating the Wolves' right wing. A guy I've never even said more than "hey" to when passing in the hallway.

"Of course you are." I realize I didn't say that under my breath as the words leave my mouth.

"So you've heard of us," the green-eyed alpha says, his grin widening.

I roll my eyes. "Sure I have. Your fans are the reason I have to park blocks away from the ice center whenever there's a game just so my car doesn't get sprayed with silly string. Now the obnoxious behavior makes sense."

To my surprise—and irritation—that earns a laugh from all of them. Even more frustrating is the tingle that runs up my spine in response to the sound.

I'm not in heat.

So what the hell is wrong with me?

"Whoever you are, it doesn't change the fact that there's been a mix-up," I insist, crossing my arms. "I spoke with the rink manager myself. He assured me I'd have exclusive use of the ice."

"Yeah, he told us the same thing," a third alpha chimes in, his voice deep and smooth. He's leaning against the barrier, dark eyes studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. "Seems old Frank's double-booked us."

I huff in frustration. "Well, one of us needs to find somewhere else to practice. And since I booked this place first?—"

"How do you know that?" the fourth alpha interrupts. He's not quite as huge as the others, with a lithe build that speaks more of speed than brute strength, but he still towers over me by at least a foot. His hazel eyes dance with amusement. "Maybe we beat you to it and you just got here first."

"I—" I falter, realizing I have no way to prove my claim. "Look, this is the only decent-sized rink in town. The pond is fine for recreational skating, but I need a proper practice space."

The blond alpha's grin widens, too. "So do we. Lucky we don't mind sharing," he says with a twist to his lips that makes me doubt he's just talking about the ice.

Another prickle goes up my spine. Okay, I'm officially filing a complaint with my reproductive system.

I bristle at his tone. "That's not how this works. You can't just?—"

"He's right," The dark-eyed alpha suggests, his voice low and smooth. "The rink's big enough for all of us."

I laugh incredulously. "Share? With a hockey team ? I can't practice my routines with you all barreling around and slamming into each other."

The green-eyed one smirks. "We could be gentle for you, little omega."

Heat floods my cheeks at his suggestive tone. "That's not—I don't?—"

"Relax," the blond one says, holding up his hands. "Jayce is just teasing. It's what he does. But seriously, we need this ice time as much as you do. There's got to be a way we can work this out."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the mix of frustration and unexpected attraction swirling in my gut.

These alphas are infuriating, but I can't deny the effect they're having on me, and I can't even smell them through the chemicals and the mild suppressors that are always pumping through the vents. Kind of a necessity in any public space shared by alphas and omegas—especially one where people are getting their heart rates up.

It's been too long since I've felt this kind of spark, and it's throwing me off balance.

"Fine," I say through gritted teeth. "We can try to work something out. How about I take mornings, you four take afternoons or evenings?"

Most of the Christmas festivities the family will want me to participate in take place a little later on, anyway.

The alphas exchange glances, some unspoken communication passing between them. Finally, the blond one shakes his head. "No can do. We've got commitments every day this week after two."

I clench my jaw. "Look, I'm trying to be reasonable here?—"

"Reasonable would be sharing the ice," the one with the hazel eyes and shaggy brown hair says, giving me a mischievous grin.

This chiseled-jawed motherfu?—

"He's right," the blond—number thirteen, who seems to be the leader—chimes in. I decide I'm just going to call them all by the numbers on their jerseys because I'm certainly not going to bother learning their names. "There's no way around it. We're just going to have to learn to live with each other for the next week."

"We can do that, can't we, Cotton Candy?" Jayce—Twenty-Six—says with that coy smirk. "After all, it is Christmas."

I force down my simmering anger, because I'm worried if I let it boil over, some far less convenient feelings are going to leak out in the process. It's not ideal, but it's better than nothing. "Fine," I grit out. "But if this doesn't work out, I'm going straight to the rink manager."

"Fair enough," Thirteen says. He extends a hand over the barrier. "I'm Adder, by the way. You already know Jayce." He glances at Twenty-Six. "Mason," he says, nodding toward the alpha with hazel eyes with the thirty-seven on his jersey. "And Carter," he finishes with Fifty-Seven, the one with hair nearly as dark as his eyes. The only one out of the group who hasn't spoken a word yet, but he gives me a flicker of a genuine smile. Not a smirk, at least.

I hesitate for a moment before taking his hand. As our skin touches, a jolt of electricity shoots up my arm. Thirteen's eyes widen slightly, and I know he felt it too. For a moment, I'm so startled I can barely remember my own name.

"Ember."

"Ember?" Twenty-Six echoes with a laugh. "Your name is Ember and you're a figure skater?"

"Ooh, so creative," I say, dropping Thirteen's hand to plant mine on my hips. "You and all the girls from sixth grade would get along so well."

To his credit, Twenty-Six laughs at that.

I've already forgotten his name.

I think.

It doesn't matter.

"Well, Ember," Thirteen says, his blue eyes twinkling. "Looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other this week."

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way my heart races at the thought. "I guess so. Just... try not to get in my way, alright?"

Mason chuckles. "No promises, darlin'. But we'll do our best."

As I skate back to my chosen side of the rink, I can feel their eyes on me. This week just got a whole lot more complicated than I bargained for. But I've never backed down from a challenge.

I launch into a triple axel, pushing all thoughts of the four alphas from my mind. I have a competition to prepare for, and I won't let anyone stand in my way.

No matter how hot they are.