Page 6 of Players and Pages
"Thanks, Coach, couldn't have done it without you riding our asses in practice," I told him honestly. That got a laugh from the old teddy bear.
"That's what they pay me for. There are a few reporters out there that want to talk to you," he reminded me.
Fuck, that was my least favorite part of the job. There were others that would give a left nut for the attention, but no, the captain had to do it.
All I wanted was to seek out my mate. She had to be waiting for me… right? I couldn’t be the only one who’d noticed.
"Cy, were you trying to sneak out? Your groupies and press are waiting," Griff teased as he joined us. His face was brighter than ever after that victory.
If only he knew what I did, then he’d have that look all day long, every fucking day.
"Your ass is coming with me," I told him. That statement soured his smirk. "Grab Jackson and let's get this done."
If we were lucky, we might be able to find our omega still. I prayed to any gods listening that they somehow let her wait a bit longer.
He sighed as he walked towards our best friend and pulled him to come along.
"What did I do to deserve this?" Jackson questioned as we made our way to the press room.
"If I have to do it, so do you two. We’re pack. Maybe they will pick on you guys and let me sit back and relax," I answered with a smirk that had both alphas growling at me.
"Tell us what’s really going on," Griff stated. "You're hiding something. Why were you sneaking out?"
I did plan to tell them, I just hadn’t shaken myself out of the primal need to follow her, find her, claim her as mine.
Fuck, those curves. I needed them to fill my hands. To hear her say my name in a breathy whisper.
Great, now I was about to face the press with a raging hard on.
"I found her," I admitted in a low tone, a voice so low no one else could hear.
That stopped them both in their tracks.
"Your mate?" Griff questioned. It was guarded, I could see it in the way he ran a hand through his wet hair, making it flop over his eyes that were dark and holding a bit of worry.
"Our mate," I corrected him firmly. “We’re a pack.”
Since we’d found each other, we had always agreed that the reason we haven't found the right one was because she would be someone for the three of us. And I fucking found her.
Finally.
"Where?" Jackson asked.
"She was the redhead that Booth almost smacked with the pop fly," I told them. "Oh, her scent." I let out a groan as my head fell back, wishing I could have bottled that honey and spiced peaches scent forever.
Just the thought of it almost had me growling.
"We have to go find her," Griff started, trying to push past me, but I knew duty called. Mate or not, we had obligations. Any mate of ours would understand. It was part of who we were.
"We have to talk to the press first," I reminded him. "We can go to the camera room and get a copy of the catch. Then we can see if anyone knows who she is."
Holy fucking shit. I found my mate. Not just any mate, but Cy-freaking-Nixon.
My best friends kept giving me strange looks as I silently, but not subtly, freaked out. We wove through the crowd after the game ended.
God, he was glorious out there, all bulk and bunching muscles, shaking his ass for the crowd as I melted even more for him. He wasn’t just hot, he was light and fun. Something I always felt drawn to.
Now that I knew he smelled like fresh rain, bergamot, and sage, a delicious earthy herbal mix that I wanted to bathe in, it was even worse.
