Page 34 of Puck & Her Blades

I nod, and Jackson straightens, before holding his hand out to me.

When I take it, allowing him to help me to my feet, the crowd cheer.

Suddenly, I realize what a successful PR move Jackson has pulled off.

Smart.

Yet as I lean against his strong chest, I hope this is more than that.

I hope that he truly cares.

He’s saved my ass.

Jackson’s not smiling. He never smiles. I remember that.

He could be carved out of marble.

I scrunch up my nose, breathing in his scent. He smells of mulled wine. It’s spicy and warming.

It makes me never want to let go of his hand.

Fuck, this is a disaster.

I wish that Roarke had never bought me in the auction because working for the Blades is going to be hell.

They appear to be my dream pack.

Jackson smells like it.

Yet I can’t bond with them because I’m a Reject, no matter how well they treat me.

Worse, I’ll have to watch, while they search for a proper Omega.

How can I convince them that I’m the ideal Omega who they should select?

I’m defective. Rebellious. And a member of a criminal resistance.

Will they ever choose to match with me? And would it be too dangerous for all of us, if they did?

CHAPTER 6

Omega Cottage, Blade Estate

I hiss in pain.

My ankle is swollen and it throbs. I rest it elevated on a pillow on the bed, pressing an ice pack to it.

I’ve assessed enough of my own injuries over the years to know that it’s only mildly sprained.

If I rest it today, then it’ll be okay for the next hockey match.

Luckily, it looks like I don’t need to do more than rest, since I’ve been shut up in the Omega Cottage.

Alone.

It’s Tuesday morning, and last night Puck made her debut. I must be a lucky mascot because the Washington Blades beat the North Carolina Wolves 5 — 1.

Take that Wolfie.

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