Page 7 of Broken Ice
Torres made a low, rumbling sound that bordered on an Alpha growl. “I’m sorry that’s been your experience, but that’s not what I think.”
“So when you wrinkle your nose or cover your face every time I’m near, what’s that about, huh?”
There was a long pause. Torres’s big, black eyes were unwavering. “Just because I’m sensitive to your scent doesn’t mean I would ever tell you—or eventhink—that you should modulate it for me. Or for anyone. I’m sorry about covering my face, okay? I shouldn’t have done it. I got overwhelmed for a second, but I should have handled it better.”
“And what happens the next time you’re overwhelmed? Or when it keeps happening, and you can’t deal with it anymore, and you mention it to someone—oh, I don’t have aproblemwith his scent, it’s justoverwhelming. What do you think is going to happen then? You think they’ll trade you, or is it going to be me?” Beau asked sarcastically.
“That’s not going to happen.”
Beau sighed explosively. This conversation was pointless. “Okay. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, huh?” He closed his eyes, reining his temper in. “I don’t want to cause problems. I’m just here to play good hockey. If you don’t get in my way, I won’t get in yours.”
Torres didn’t appear satisfied with that resolution, but he nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay. Great chat, Torres.”
Beau turned around and headed towards his car.
He couldn’t wait to tell Noah and Cleo aboutthatlittle conversation.
CHAPTER TWO
The Manatees’ training camp was absolutely brutal. Long days were marked by drills that were constructed to test their endurance, fortifying their legs so that they were ready for the new season. Every day, Beau would end absolutely exhausted and giddy with it.
He’d fought long and hard to get where he was. His and his brother Noah’s love of hockey came from their Mississaugan Alpha mom. They’d inherited a love for the ice, a fervent admiration of the Mississauga Miracles, and a staunch hatred for the Toronto Arrows. Beau and Noah had been in perpetual competition, but not even that could dampen the love between them. It’d been amazing to see his brother drafted two years after him, especially to a team in the same conference.
The New Orleans Spirits weren’t exactly Cup contenders, but Noah was a good—if young—captain, and Beau was proud enough of his brother to boast about him at every opportunity…unless Noah was present, in which case Beau would chirp him to death.
Being an NHL player was all Beau had dreamt of since sitting in his mom’s lap as she grumbled at the TV while the Mississauga Miracles played. Donning his first pair of skates had only solidified that…or so he assumed. He couldn’t quite remember that first time—he’d been way too young—but he’d probably been ecstatic to be there.
Photos of him crying notwithstanding.
Presenting as an Omega had been a little bit of a setback. Sure, Omegas were playing in the league already, but it’d felt like Beau had lost at something. The lottery of life. It’d been worse after Noah and Cleo turned out to be Alphas—for the first time, he was going through something his siblings simply couldn’t empathise with. Something that set him apart from the rest of his teammates.
He’d learnt to adjust, but it had always been a chip on his shoulder—a sense that he had to try a little bit harder than his peers to show everyone how good he was.
Luckily, the Manatees weren’t actually that bad. Their goalie, Deanthony “Dee” Jenkins, was also an Omega, but he was mated and had a kid, so his scent was nothing compared to Beau’s wild one. They were mostly respectful, none of them bringing up suppressants or making snide comments.
There were a few moments that had rubbed him the wrong way. Lewis “Tinny” Campana was small for a hockey player. Dark skinned, with a round, angelic face and eyes that twinkled with mischief at the slightest prompt. He had absolutely zero sense of subtlety, which Beau normally enjoyed…but not when it was directed towards him.
For example, Tinny declaring at top volume that ‘it smells like Beau’s locker room now’ wasn’t something Beau loved hearing. Sure, even he could tell that, as the only unbonded Omega, his scent was prominent in the common areas the team frequented, marking his territory, trying to be part of the pack.
He’d flinched when Tinny had made the comment, looking around, but nobody seemed disgusted or mad. Most of them laughed or scoffed at Tinny. Juho Korpi, Tinny’s defence partner, got him in a headlock and gave him a noogie.
Beau’s teammates weren’t being sly. They were just chirping him like they would a guy who wore a flashy suit or had a new haircut; anything that stood out was fair game. Beau wasn’t a hothead off the ice, so he managed to modulate his responses with ease, and eventually, everybody got used to him and his scent.
Even Torres seemed to accept the situation, the broody asshole barely interacting with him. There were no comments from him. No funny faces or muttered remarks. He wasn’t openly avoiding Beau, but they kept a healthy distance from each other.
Not that Beau cared. In fact, hepreferredthat insufferable, handsome, delicious-smelling jerk stay far away from him.
Which meant that it was perfect that he was absent from Beau’s life…except during practice.
Beau wasn’t particularly surprised that by the end of training camp, he’d landed firmly on Torres’s line. They played good hockey together—Torres was a big body that made space for himself away from the goal, an expert in lasering in shots from a distance, and Beau’s home was around the blue paint, getting in a goalie’s face and distracting them enough to get a tip-in.
Together, they made a lethal pair.
All in all, the Manatees were perhaps not the worst team ever. Beau even began allowing his teammates to scent him a little—Pavel especially was prone to settling a hand on people’s shoulders, marking them as part of the group. Mikey, the captain of the Atlanta Warriors, hadn’t been big on that, but Beau came from a close-knit family that scented each other openly and affectionately, so it was easy to press himself against his newteammates at the bar or scuffle with them in the locker room, happy to be part of the pack.
The one notable exception was Torres, but Beau wasn’t eager to deal with that can of worms either, so he didn’t push. He didn’t even want to imagine how pathetic he’d get if smelling like Torres was an option. Better to diminish the possibility of humiliation and keep away from him altogether.
