Page 22 of Training the Alpha

“Neither did I, until recently,” I exhale. “It’s complicated.”

One corner of Max’s mouth twitches upward, and some of the blind panic racing through my mind starts to recede, because for two guys who don’t talk about our feelings a hell of a lot, that smile says everything. “I have to admit, it kind of makes sense. I wouldn’t have made all those comments about going after omegas if I knew.”

“I know, Max. It’s fine.”

Max sighs, slapping his hands on his knees. “So, how do you want to handle this Chet situation? I’ll back you, whatever you decide. Whether that’s addressing it head-on or letting the rumor die.”

I run my hands through my hair, pushing myself off the desk and pacing the length of the office. “Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t want to hide it, that’s not fair to Alex.”

“Or you,” Max points out.

I give him a grateful smile. “Right. But I don’t want to scare off our regulars either. They’re our bread and butter, Max, theykeep our lights on. And I don’t want to give our competitors more ammunition to trash talk us.”

“Pfft, they’ll always find something to trash talk us about. It’s part of the game,” he says, watching me pace. “And as for the regulars… look, do you remember when we were unsure about introducing non-contact nights, because we thought the hardcore alphas would laugh us out of the room?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“And do you remember what you said?” Max lowers his voice in an over exaggerated imitation of mine. “You said, ‘What’s the point in being the boss if you can’t set your own rules?’”

“I don’t talk like that.”

“You fucking do,” he grins. “And you were right. Sure, some of the old-school crowd made dumb comments about it, but it brought in a whole new group of people who never would have found us if we didn’t run those sessions. Our numbers went up, not down.And, we were doing things our way, which has always been the point. We don’t put up with the stress and paperwork and fuckingspreadsheetsthat come with running a businessjust to do what everyone else is doing.I don’t want fuckwads like Chet representing us anyway. Do you?”

I let out a long breath. “Absolutely fucking not.”

Max sticks his leg out to stop my pacing, standing so we’re eye to eye. “It’s your call, dude. Your timeline. I’m in your corner.”

“Thanks, Max.” I pull him into a rough hug, slapping him heartily on the back and trying to force back whatever is making my eyes sting.

He clasps my shoulder when we pull away. “The real mystery is how you pulled an alpha that far out of your league. I’m talking lightyears, dude. Dancer bo—sorry, Alex—he’s like a fucking model—”

I groan and make for the door. “Okay, we’re done talking about this, thank you, Max.”

“And a club bathroom, Marcus? I had you pegged as more of a dinner and candles kind of guy, but whatever floats your boat—”

“We were just talking. No clothes were removed.”

“Whatever you say, buddy.”

I don’t have a chance to defend myself any further, because when I push open the office door, there are raised voices echoing around the cavernous gym space and a commotion by the weight machines. Of course, Chet is right in the middle of it.

And so is Alex.

He’s still got his jacket on, so he must have just got here. He’s wearing one of his sardonic smiles, but I can see a rare flash of panic behind his eyes, his stance defensive. Dylan’s there too, with one huge hand planted against Chet’s chest, as if he’s holding him back.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Max booms as we both stride over to the fray. My heart is in my throat as I make a beeline for Alex, mouthingyou okay?and getting a hasty nod in response.

“Just keeping the trash out of our gym, Max,” Chet sneered, attempting to push Dylan’s massive hand off his chest. He fails miserably, but his eyes lock onto me, his voice dripping with venom. “Didn’t realize you were running a sanctuary for faggots, Marcus. Or maybe the rumors are true and you’ve been letting this runt take more than just gym space.”

Silence falls over the surrounding weight area. It’s peak time and the gym is bustling, but the rhythmic thudding of heavy bags dies out as everyone’s attention turns to us.

My fists clench in rage, my senses sharpening as my alpha sniffs a fight and prepares to throw down. My scent is going haywire, responding to Chet’s aggressive pheromones by going into overdrive, my vision prickling at the edges.

“Oh fuck off, you homophobic dinosaur,” Alex says, his voice clear and bright, and the flush on his cheekbones the only tellthat he’s bothered by the abuse. And I’m filled with such a surge of intense pride and total, astonished disbelief that this brilliant, unfazed, poised alpha wants to spend time with me and kiss me and let me sleep in his bed, that all the rage just melts away.

This time, when Chet struggles against Dylan’s grip, I don’t hesitate. Dylan holds him back as I step up to Chet, facing him squarely and looming over him with a face like thunder. He holds my gaze but freezes in Dylan’s grip, his scent flaring so strongly it makes my nose wrinkle.

“You’re done,” I say, my voice terrifyingly quiet, my scent level. “Grab your gear and get the fuck out of my gym.”