“I noticed,” I reply, smiling. “It is a little impressive, though.”
“They will be insufferable if you tell them that.”
Chris’s fingers suddenly tighten at my waist, just enough that I feel it. His shoulders roll back. His head lifts. His gaze is locked on something over my shoulder, jaw grinding. I follow his line of sight.
Two beefy men have just stepped onto the ice, at the far exit.
Heavy jackets. Beanies. Gloves. They appear like everyone else here. Except they have no skates on. They cut through the entry crowd without even pretending to adjust. Skaters yank themselves out of the way as the pair strides forward, eyes fixed ahead.
On us.
On Chris.
I feel him curse more than I hear it, a low vibration through his chest and arm. “Stay behind me, Hannah.” The words are calm. The tone is not.
“Who are they?” My voice comes out thinner than I want.
“Couple of assholes we brought in about six months ago.” His jaw is tight, his weight shifting, ready to move in any direction. “Guess the system decided to give them another chance.”
The men are closer now, shoving past a teenage couple, ignoring the glare they get in return. One of them lifts his chin in a small, ugly greeting. The other points, lips curling when he sees me standing with Chris.
He adjusts his stance, skating backward a few smooth inches so that his body is fully between me and them. His hand spreads wider at my waist, pulling me in until I can feel the hard line of his spine through his jacket. “Do not move from behind me,” he says, low and steady. “Understand?”
I nod even though he can’t see it and bunch my fingers into the fabric at his back, hanging on as the ice between us and the two men grows shorter with every breath.
The stockier man with a scraggly beard and mean eyes finds Chris immediately. His mouth twists into something nasty, and then his gaze slides over Chris’s shoulder, looking for me. When he finds even the hint of my outline behind Chris’s body, his grin widens.
“Well, look at that,” he drawls. “Didn’t know you’d upgraded your company.”
My stomach drops. Ice pools low in my spine.
Chris doesn’t move, but something in him sharpens. His stance shifts by inches, but the air around him changes completely.
The second man, tall, wiry, scar splitting his eyebrow, lets out a low whistle as he drifts a little closer. “Cute,” he says, tone lined with something oily. “Didn’t think you were the type to bring an Omega out in public. Brave of you.” His eyes cut toward me again, deliberate. “Or stupid.”
Heat flares in my chest, fear tangled with white-hot anger, but Chris speaks before I can get a word out.
“Don’t look at her.” His voice is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that comes right before a door breaks or a bone snaps.
Scar-Eyebrow ignores him, steps closer, voice dropping. “Maybe she wants to be looked at. Plenty of Omegas do.” His gaze lingers on my shoulder. “Bet she’s sweet as honey when?—”
Chris moves.
He doesn’t lunge. Doesn’t shout. He just steps back, placing more of his body between me and them, guiding me behind him with one smooth, controlled sweep of his arm. His shoulders square, legs bracing wide on the ice, the calm precision of someone who’s taken down men like these a hundred times before.
“You’re going to rethink everything you just said,” Chris murmurs, low and lethal. “Right now.”
Beard laughs, a harsh bark that grates on the air. “What? Touch a nerve?”
Chris’s head tilts just a fraction. “I am going to give you one chance to walk away,” he says quietly. “You should take it.”
Scar taps his gloved fingers against his thigh, amused. “There it is. The lecture voice.” His gaze drifts past Chris again, trying to find me. “Come on, man. Share a little holiday spirit. Let the Omega be with someone who knows how to treat her.”
Beard laughs under his breath. “Yeah. We could show her a real good time.”
My pulse spikes so hard I feel it in my throat. Heat flashes through my chest, sharp and furious, but my feet might as well be nailed to the ice.
“Last warning,” he growls. “Walk away.”
