Page 39 of Puck & Her Blades

“Do I need to get you anything else to help?” He asks. “Painkillers?”

I shake my head. “I’m tough, remember?”

“No one’s so tough that they don’t need painkillers. Even Zev, but don’t tell him that I let out his secret. And don’t worry about Dad. Jackson convinced Sydney and him that your moment together on the ice was PR gold. It’s made the papers and has gone viral. Everybody’s fangirling over it. There are memes.”

“Oh god.” I groan, covering my face with my hands.

“Don’t be like that. You had the ice hockey meet-cute of the century: Omega puck gets rescued by the Alpha captain. And the rest is history.”

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

I lower my hands, glaring at Cygnus.

“Maybe.” He scans me, taking in the way that I’m wearing the jersey. “I’m enjoying seeing you in Zev’s jersey more.”

I blush. “It just makes me feel…”

Cygnus smiles. “Good, right? Jackson and Zev volunteered them because they know how much I love to make nests out of them. They make me feel better. When I’m away from the house, I often sneak into their locker room to be near their scent. It helps, when I’m not with them.”

Something’s not adding up. Why would he need to feel better?

“Aren’t you sleeping with your gorgeous Alphas every night anyway?” I study him closely and don’t understand the way that he ducks his head, avoiding my gaze.

“I can’t do that. It’d distract them.”

“I don’t understand.”

He stares at me in confusion. “It’d be selfish of me to… I have to understand that they need to put their careers first and that means sacrifices.” It sounds like something someone else has said to him and he’s repeating, even if he doesn’t believe it. Or is he trying to convince himself that it’s the truth? But who told him that bullshit? “They rut me, over my heats. They always make sure that I don’t suffer. But Jackson and Zev have their own wing of the mansion. I have my own room.”

What the fuck?

Cygnus should be adored.

Worshiped.

The fucking center of his Alphas’ worlds every night of the week.

If he was mine, then he would be.

Instead, he’s put away, apart from when he’s used for breeding.

I lean forward and grip his hand. “So, it’s sort of like you have your own Omega Cottage then?”

He flushes. “Can we not talk about it? It’s not their decision. It’s Dad’s. I was sent to this cottage for months, when Jackson tried to fight him over it. My Alphas don’t have a choice and neither do I. Look, I’m here to apologize. I know that it didn’t help last night for you to hear what that commentator said about the pack taking on a bonded female Omega.”

My mouth tightens. “It’s not my decision. I don’t have a choice just like you were saying.”

Cygnus’ gaze becomes anguished. “And it’s not mine. It’s Sydney’s. It was as much a shock to Jackson and Zev — to all of us. She’s pulling another one of her PR stunts.”

I struggle to push myself up in my pillows, baring my teeth. “She can’t force you to bond with someone. I won’t let her.”

“Dad can as Head Alpha,” he replies, quietly. “Although I do enjoy this protective side of you. Jackson’s been in Dad’s study all morning arguing and trying to stop this Omega matching. I’m worried what Dad will do to Jackson for standing up to him over it. At least he won’t hurt him too badly, I don’t think, while the Alpha Cup is happening. It matters too much to him for us to win, but he can punish Jackson after the contest finishes. Possibly, even send him to the Alpha Center, if he resists the selection.”

My blood runs cold.

The Alpha Center runs conditioning courses for bad Alphas, which are just as cruel as any at the Institute for Omegas. Its main use is for criminal Alphas.

How could Roarke seriously consider sending his own adopted son, who’s a hero on the ice, there because he won’t play along with this farce of a matching?

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