Page 23 of Puck Your Bunny

Simon steps up beside me, the usual humor in his face gone. "Hockey means nothing compared to this. The tabloids and the franchise can go to hell. We can retire tomorrow. You're our mate."

Vayda backs out the door, her eyes wide. "No. I'm not. I can't be."

She turns around, grabs the brass handle, and tugs the door open.

The cool spring wind rushes into the workshop. Vayda steps out into the gray afternoon light, running across the dead grass of the backyard.

Kel snaps a curse, scrambling for his discarded pants and yanking them up his legs.

I snatch my jeans from the floor, shoving my legs into them. Skipping my shirt and underwear, I grab my boots and rush out the door. Simon follows right behind me, pulling his gray t-shirt over his head. The cold spring air bites my bare chest, but the adrenaline masks the chill.

Vayda reaches the back door of her yellow house. Stopping on the small concrete stoop, she turns to face us. We halt a few feet away in the dead grass.

"Stop following me. My life is a disaster. I have nothing left to give you. My heart is broken, and that's unfair to you. You deserve an Omega who can be yours. I'm grateful for the help, but Kristy made a mistake calling you."

She turns to shove the back door open, stepping inside to shut it behind her.

A low growl rips from Kel's chest, his scent spiking as his rugged leather aroma turns dark. He lunges forward, catching the edge of the door before the latch can click.

I grab for Kel's arm. "Kel, don't." My grip slips right off his bare bicep.

Kel shoves the door open and marches into the house. I mutter a curse and follow him inside to get him under control, Simon trailing right behind us. The small, outdated kitchen smells like clinical antiseptic wipes mixed with the faint scent of rain and driftwood. The linoleum floor is scuffed, and the cabinets look old.

Vayda spins around, backing up against the kitchen counter with a furious look. "Get out! I told you to stay outside!"

Kel stands his ground, his massive frame dominating the small kitchen space. "We're staying right here until you talk to us. You expect us to just walk away after three days? To go find someone else?"

A voice calling out from the front of the house cuts her off. The sound is loud and uncoordinated, a single, strained syllable.

Footsteps approach from the hallway. A man wearing medical scrubs walks into the kitchen, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees three half-naked professional hockey players standing in the room.

The nurse holds his hands up, his eyes darting between us and Vayda. "Whoa. Everything okay in here? I heard shouting. Brendan was getting upset."

I look past the nurse. The hallway opens up into a small living room, and my breath catches.

A man sits in the center of the room in a customized medical wheelchair. He has messy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the left side of his face drooping. His head lolls to the side against a padded headrest. His hands curl inward on the armrests, his body showing the strain of his injuries.

The scent of rain and driftwood rolls off him. He is an Alpha.

Vayda steps sideways, blocking our view of the man in the wheelchair. Her posture shifts as she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin, her eyes flashing with a fierce, protective glare. "As you can see, I already have an Alpha. You should leave. I knowhow territorial Alphas are. Better for you to see now I’m no good for you. Go find a younger Omega."

She stares me dead in the eye. "If you force me to choose between you three and the mate I have left, I'll pick Brendan every single time, even if the rejection sickness kills me."

Chapter 9

Istand my ground in the narrow hallway leading to the living room, keeping my chin tipped up. Every word of my ultimatum is true. If they force a choice between new Alphas and the mate I have left, I'll pick Brendan.

I'll pick himeverytime.

The three Alphas crowd the outdated kitchen, making the space feel like a shoebox.

Kel stands on the scuffed linoleum, clutching his dark hoodie and boots in one hand. Sweat coats his bare skin, highlighting the dark compass rose tattooed on his neck. His chest rises and falls with rapid, angry breaths.

Wally stands next to him, holding his boots and shirt. His broad chest moves with even, controlled breaths. A calm,unbothered expression settles on his face as his dark brown eyes lock onto me, tracking my every move.

Leaning against the doorframe, Simon grips his boots. He pulled his gray t-shirt over his head before chasing me out of the shed, but his copper hair still sticks up in every direction, messy from my fingers gripping it on the mattress. He watches me with a steady stare.

Near the fridge, Vinny keeps his hands raised in a placating gesture. The nurse looks out of place in his blue scrubs under the weight of the Alpha presence saturating the room.