Page 3 of Cleat Heat

His happiness is infectious, and soon, the entire team is chattering about Nationals. Reaching down, I grab my water bottle, allowing the animated conversation to wash over me as I hydrate.

Looking around, I take in the lush green field, the completely empty but enormous stadium, and of course, the stupid goalposts. Removing those would make the area truly perfect. But cheering for the Alpha Crushers, a professional football team, is the price we pay to keep our squad together. And honestly, most of the time, it isn’t so bad. The stadium goes wild for us when we entertain them before the game and during half-time. It’s unlike anything else—I could survive on just the buzz alone.

Using the back of my hand, I wipe away a droplet of water that has spilled out of the side of my lips. Now refreshed, I stretch my neck from side to side, ready to tackle my Maureen trouble. She’s not as athletic as the other fliers, and it shows. The last time I tried to switch her to a base, her parents had Coach intervene. You would think being grown-ass adults, things like that wouldn’t happen, but Maureen’s parents are partial owners of the football team. They’re the reason we get to practice here. Thus, the constant tightrope walking.

“Hey, Maureen’s group, let’s run through that sequence a few more times before we do it as a team again,” I encourage them. Two of the bases roll their eyes—but they know we have no choice. Maureen needs to nail this, or we’re going to have to scrap the trick for competition. And this is one for the record books.

“Why are we the only ones running it again?” Maureen snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “If anyone needs more practice, it’s you.” Her dark brown eyes glare daggers at me. And I get it—being singled out is embarrassing, and my inner omega cringes at her anger. Even though Maureen’s a beta, I still feel her displeasure deeply, but being team captain means fighting through my designation.

Swallowing hard, I push the whine building in my throat back before facing her taunt. “I’m going to re-run it with everyone, but I want to start with your group. Just to make sure it’s gelling right.” I widen my eyes and throw her an amiable smile, hoping she’ll lose the militant attitude.

“Freaking omega bitch. Thinks she’s better than everyone else,” Maureen mutters under her breath, throwing her arms around. She speaks loud enough that I can hear it but moves back to the group before getting in position.

Biting my lip, I struggle to hold back the cruel retort that comes to mind. Might as well just let it go. There’s too much work to be done to get into a pissing match with her.

A gentle breeze coasts down the field, fanning my long blond hair behind me and cooling my heated skin. It feels amazing, but my nose instantly detects a strange scent in the air—the day is about to change.

Omega instincts.

“V,” Maureen calls, a sly smirk clawing over my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. She gestures triumphantly toward the tunnel that leads to the locker rooms. “Don’t we have the field for another hour?” Glancing at my watch, I note the time. She’s close. We should have another forty-five minutes to practice here without any interruptions.

But sexy Alpha-Baller interruptions have shown up just the same.

Not sexy. Bad. Rude. Smug.

Flicking my hair over my shoulder with a frustrated sigh, my eyes narrow at the team now crowding onto the field; wandering aimlessly around in their uniforms. Muscles flexing and helmets gleaming in the sun, they don’t seem to be doing more than chatting. They always pull this crap on us; but not today.

“Maybe you should offer to suck them off. If you do a good job they’ll give us some more time,” Maureen snarks like the bitch she is. Except this time, a titter of laughter joins her nasty words, egging her on. “It’s what omegas are for, after all.”

Embarrassment coils around my chest, along with a heavy dose of despair. My hands clench at my sides—will anyone ever see me as anything besides a hole to be fucked?

The need to do this—to show them all—builds.

“Assholes. Should we leave?” Tam asks, his calm beta demeanor cracking as he picks at his fingernails anxiously.

“No, I’m going to handle them,” I say with conviction in my voice. Squaring my shoulders, I suck in a few breaths and will my racing heart to slow the hell down. It’s thundering in my temples at the thought of standing up to Dash, the Alpha Crusher’s team captain, but I know I can’t let him walk all over me. Us.

“Do you want me to do it?” Tam offers, knowing that as an omega, it’ll be even harder for me than him; however, I’m determined as hell—driven by the need to prove my worth to everyone. The team. My parents. These stupid, sexy Alpha-Ballers.

Being an omega doesn’t make me weak.

“Nope. I’m going to pretend he’s Marcel and go all psycho cheerleader on his ass,” I claim, getting a rousing laugh from my squad. But inside, I’m quivering, completely unsure whether I can make it through talking to the handsome Alpha without turning into a whining pile of slick. Dash’s dark chocolate scent always makes me want to climb him like a tree.

It’s now or never.

Chapter Two

Fox

The dark shadow of the tunnel hides me as I stare at the omega. Her white-blond hair is up in a high ponytail, escaped strands flying about, and I imagine wrapping it around my fist as she presents for me and my packmates. My little flier is as cute as a button, and I want to go scoop her up. Steal her away from that annoying beta who she’s laughing with. Gritting my teeth to keep the growl from escaping, I clench and unclench my hands.

Practice doesn’t start for a bit, but I couldn’t help sneaking out here early to stare at her in all her angelic glory. Her big blue eyes keep flicking this way as though she can sense my presence, but I know she can’t possibly see me. Maybe she can sense me—just as I do her. The little cheerleader is never far from my mind, a constant source of distraction. There are so many females on her cheer squad who flirt shamelessly with the team—but no one catches my attention the way she does.

“V,” I whisper her name like a prayer, flaring my nostrils, trying to catch even the faintest hint of her scent. She uses scent blockers, so, I’m not quite sure what it is, but my gut tells me she’s made for me, and I’ll love it.

Footsteps crunch behind me an instant before a hand comes down on either side of my shoulders. Pack.

“Knew we’d find you out here like the little stalker bitch you are,” Ty jokes jovially as he slides up to my right. Dash shoulders me on the left, and we all collectively gaze at her in complete silence, the scent of our desire thickening the air.

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