Chapter 16: Adder

Chapter

Sixteen

ADDER

I adjust my tie for what must be the hundredth time, fighting the urge to loosen the damn thing. It feels like it's choking me, but I resist.

This isn't about my comfort.

This is about making a good impression on Ember's family.

On our omega's family.

It was a big fucking deal for her to invite us here.

Well, technically, her father is the one who invited us.

But she didn't tell him not to.

So that's progress.

Our omega. It still doesn't feel real, even after everything we've been through. Even after spending her heat with her, learning every curve and dip of her body, memorizing the sounds she makes when she comes apart under our hands, our mouths, our?—

"Dude, seriously?" Mason's voice cuts through my thoughts. "A leather jacket? To a family Christmas dinner?"

I blink, focusing on the scene in front of me. We're standing on the porch of Ember's childhood home. Carter and I are wearing button downs and blazers while Mason seems to have dug out the cheesiest Christmas sweater he could find.

Jayce, on the other hand...

"What?" he says defensively, running a hand through his carefully tousled hair. "Chicks dig the bad boy look."

I roll my eyes. "Ember's not just some chick, Jayce. We're here to meet her family. To show them we're worthy of her."

"Yeah, I know," Jayce mutters, a mischievous glint coming into his eyes as he adds, "But if anyone's going to send Ember running for the hills, it's going to be that monstrosity you're wearing."

I follow his gaze to the garish Christmas sweater Mason is sporting. It's a riot of colors, with a 3D reindeer nose that actually lights up. It's hideous enough that I'm starting to think he needs to wear it to our next game. It would certainly distract the other team.

"Hey," Mason protests, "this is festive. Unlike some people's attire." He shoots a pointed look at Jayce.

Jayce grins, unrepentant. "For your information, this leather comes from a factory right next to a Christmas tree farm. It's practically holiday-scented."

"Alright, boys," Carter says, his deep voice cutting through our bickering. "Let's try to act like adults, shall we? We're about to meet our omega's family. Let's leave the fighting for the rink."

His words sober us all.

He's right, of course.

We're all on edge, nervous about this dinner in a way we've never been about anything before. Not even high-stakes playoff games have my stomach in knots like this.

Before I can say anything else, the door swings open, revealing a woman who can only be Ember's mother. She has the same warm brown eyes, the same gentle curve to her lips when she smiles. The resemblance is striking.

"Hello!" she says brightly, her gaze sweeping over us. "You must be Ember's friends from the rink. Come in, come in! It's freezing out there."

Friends.

Okay. She definitely doesn't know what's going on.

We file in, stamping snow from our boots and murmuring thanks. The house is warm and inviting, filled with the scents of cinnamon and pine.

It smells like Christmas.

It smells like home.

I introduce myself, then the rest of the pack, somehow not stumbling over my words. I've never been the type to be nervous about meeting a girl's family, but then, I've never met a girl like Ember, either.

And this time, we're playing for keeps.

"Ember will be down in just a moment," her mother says, ushering us further inside. "She had to take a quick work call. You know how it is with these big competitions coming up."

I nod, even though I don't really know.

None of us do.

We're used to the pressures of professional sports, sure, but figure skating is a whole different world. One that Ember inhabits with a grace and determination.

As we move into the living room, I'm struck by how normal it all feels to be here. There's a Christmas tree in the corner with presents piled beneath it. Family photos line the walls and every available surface.

And everywhere I look, there's Ember.

Ember as a toddler, all chubby cheeks and wild curls. Ember in a neon pink pair of ice skates, wobbling but determined. Ember at what must be her first competition, beaming with pride as she holds up a ribbon.

"That was her first time on the ice," a deep voice says, and I turn to see Ember's father approaching. He's gesturing to the photo I was just admiring. "She was obsessed from that moment on. Couldn't keep her off the rink if we tried."

I smile, warmth blooming in my chest. "Sounds like Ember," I say softly.

Mr. Westbrook nods, a fond smile on his face. "She's always been driven. Knew what she wanted and went after it with everything she had."

The pride in his voice is unmistakable, and I find myself liking him immediately.

This is a man who supports his daughter's dreams. Who celebrates her ambitions instead of trying to stifle them.

Too many parents do that—especially with omegas.

I saw that firsthand with some of my little sister's friends. Our family always made sure she knew she'd be loved and supported, no matter what she wanted out of life.

But I learned pretty early on that most omegas aren't so lucky.

As we make small talk with Ember's parents, I can't help but notice the way Ember's sister, Taylor, is watching us. She introduced herself the other day at the Christmas tree lot when we were helping Mason's mom pick out a tree.

And while she didn't say anything explicitly, I know Ember must have told her something for her to even approach us.

I give her a nod, and she smiles, waving back over a glass of eggnog. There's a knowing glint in her eye, a slight smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

It's clear she knows more than she's letting on.

That's... promising, actually.

If Ember told her sister about us, about what happened during the storm, it means she's at least considering this.

Considering us .

The thought sends a surge of dangerous hope through me.

I'm about to try and catch Taylor's eye, maybe strike up a conversation, when a hush falls over the room. I turn, following everyone's gaze, and?—

Oh.

Oh, fuck .

Ember stands at the top of the stairs, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. She's wearing a red velvet mini dress that hugs every curve, black tights accentuating the length of her legs. Her dark hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, and even though she looks like royalty, there's a hint of nervousness in her eyes as she surveys the room.

When her gaze lands on us, on me, I see the tension leave her shoulders. A small smile plays at her lips, and I have to physically restrain myself from going to her, from gathering her in my arms and never letting go.

She's beautiful.

She's always beautiful, but there's something different about seeing her here, in her childhood home, surrounded by the people who love her most in the world.

It feels... intimate.

Like she's letting us see a part of her that few others get to witness.

As she descends the stairs, greeting her family with hugs and kisses, I'm struck by the magnitude of what's happening here. She's invited us into her world, into the heart of her family. She's giving us a chance, despite all her reservations, despite all the ways she's been hurt before.

I swear to myself, right then and there, that I will do everything in my power to be worthy of that trust. To be the kind of alpha—the kind of man —that Ember deserves.

When she finally makes her way to us, her scent washes over me like a tidal wave. Candy and warmth and home. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to bury my face in her neck, to breathe her in until she's all I know.

"Hi," she says softly, a hint of shyness in her voice that I've never heard before. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world, Cotton Candy," Jayce says with a wink, and I have to bite back a growl at the way Ember's cheeks flush at the nickname.

Before I can say anything, Mrs. Westbrook claps her hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, everyone! Dinner's ready. Let's eat before it gets cold."

As we follow the crowd into the dining room, I feel a small hand slip into mine. I look down to see Ember looking up at me, a mix of emotions swirling in her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispers, so softly I almost miss it. "For being here. For... everything."

I squeeze her hand gently, wishing I could pull her close, could show her exactly how much her words mean to me.

But this isn't the time or place.

So instead, I simply nod, hoping she can see in my eyes everything I can't say out loud.

"Always," I murmur back.

And I mean it with every fiber of my being.