Page 69 of Slashed Bonds

But Coach, who I have seen laugh precisely twice in four years, both times at other people’s injuries, throws his head back and loses it.

Full body. Hand on the boards to hold himself up.

Roz is grinning.

Coach gets his breath back and cups a hand to his mouth.

“She says,” he wheezes, to the whole rink, “our glass is cheaper than our trophies!”

She read the lobby. She knows the trophies are plastic. She’s been in the building forty minutes.

Greenie makes a sound like he’s been stabbed and starts filming again.

Ear to ear. Pride, plain as a banner. And then she turns her head and looks down the length of the bench at the three of us.

That’s a woman who’s been right for eleven weeks and is finally allowed to say so.

“Alright, boys,” she calls. “All on ice!”

We’re over the boards in a heartbeat.

She’s already there when we line up. Standing at the dot with her stick across her thighs, bare-faced, hair pulled back now in one rough twist that shows the ink on her neck.

And this close, her scent reaches me.

It’s been held down all night. Quiet in the lobby, quiet on the bench. Now she’s been on the ice, and skating opens a person up whether they want it or not, and what comes off her is black cherry over cold, cold, cold. The winter note is the loudest thing in it. It sits in the back of my throat like the air off a lake in January, and under it, faint, I catch something sweeter starting to move.

Jasmine. She’s happy. She’s fighting it, but she’s happy.

Nobody else on this line would know to look for that.

I’ve spent four years learning to read men who go quiet, but an Omega?

She’s the quietest one I’ve ever met.

I don’t remember deciding to. Neither do they. We’re in line at center with the rest of the roster before the echo finishes, Niko still with dog hair on his chest protector, Cash with his headphones swinging, me with my hands open at my sides because I don’t know what else to do with them.

Roz gestures to the woman who made us lose our minds.

“Meet Morrigan Vesper Crowe.”

Morrigan.

The name goes into the drawer like a prized precious that deserves utmost secrecy.

“Do your own research about her. She’s your new member, and she’ll be the only Omega on this team. Bully her, and she’ll bully you right back.” Roz’s eyes move down the line, resting on each of us for exactly as long as it takes to make the point. “And Knox is her dog. Don’t mess with the dog, or you’ll be hearing from me personally!”

A pause.

Then a whistle.

“Now let’s get practice started!”

CHAPTER 8

Destined For Misery

~MORRIGAN~