by N. J. Lysk
Something was clearly very wrong and the next minutes of play did nothing but confirm it.
As if losing to Carry’s old team wasn’t bad enough, the arseholes were breaking protocol right, left and centre. Thomas didn’t normally keep track, but he’d checked for Carry and Puccio was an alpha and that meant he shouldn’t have been staring at Carry like that. Villiers was just a regular beta creep as far as he could tell, but Thomas wasn’t surprised the way he was smirking got Keenan’s hackles up.
At least Carry was sensible enough to keep both himself and Keenan from giving his ex-teammate unasked for dental surgery.
"Stop making a fuss, it's just what they want!" he snapped at them both. He knew it wasn’t their fault, of course, but if either of them got carded over a fight on the ice after they’d lost...
They listened, or maybe some secret alpha-omega communication had taken place that had sorted things out—no way for Thomas to know, was there? He was just the guy they’d needed to be able to talk to each other up until a couple weeks ago—no one that important.
HE CLICKED TO OPEN the text message with the automaticity of someone who’d got his little sister an unlimited message phone plan for her birthday.
But it wasn’t from Colleen.
[Hi, this is Uriel. May I call you?]
May. Thomas was torn between laughing for joy and at the sheer ridiculousness of the formality from a guy who’d had his cock so far down his throat he could probably still taste it. He settled for grinning. Because how the hell had Uri found his number? Was this the fate his parents insisted had united them and Thomas had always assumed was a load of bullshit?
He almost called him right then, but then he remembered Uri’s reluctance; the message in front of his eyes was the very obvious proof of it. He made himself save the contact information instead—no way was he spitting on the universe’s face again. Then he texted back.
[Sure. Home for the evening, call whenever]
Very magnanimous of him, sure, except then he had to wait for the call. He made himself put the phone down on the kitchen counter, then went to get a drink off the fridge. Beer, which of course reminded him of teasing Uri, but uncapping it and taking a long pull was still something to do with his hands.
He still hadn’t had dinner, either. He opened the fridge again, even though he was aware he’d neither remembered to buy groceries after his sisters had ravaged through his supplies or requested any ready-made meals.
Uri would probably laugh his head off if he found out Thomas ate most of his meals at hotels or from what basically amounted to the team’s hand—more like a pet than a doll, really. But it was convenient, and a luxury, really, but in a way, it was also necessary for his career. After all, who had time to check he was getting enough of all the right vitamins and amino acids for his intensive training and playing? And—
He almost dropped the bottle when the phone went off to the familiar tones of Bohemian Rhapsody. He exhaled, taking an extra second to check he was depositing the beer on the counter and not thin air, then crossed the two steps and picked up.
“Hey.” It came out breathless.
“Hello,” Uriel said from the other side. Thomas’s grip relaxed a little and he realised he hadn’t been sure it would be him, not until he’d recognized the voice.
Uri was being too formal again, he noted. He gave him a second to say more, then offered, “It’s nice to hear from you.”
“Uh, yeah, I— I wanted...” He heard Uriel swallow. “This is going to sound a little insane and I’m aware you are in the middle of the season and everything—”
“What?” Thomas cut in. Mostly because his brain seemed to have ground to a halt, or maybe he’d forgotten English altogether. Did the guy seriously think Thomas wasn’t allowed to go out at all during the season?
“I just... I wondered...” Thomas closed his eyes, trying to focus on his toes like he’d been taught in school to stop himself from interrupting again. “Would you come and give the kids some tips? We— well, it’s field hockey, but they are ten to fourteen, so...”
His eyes snapped open. It wasn’t the first time someone had asked for a favour related to hockey, of course—his parents had offered his services to the community more than once when he’d been younger, for one thing. It was the least he could do, they’d said, since he was fortunate enough they had been able to pay for his training until he’d become a professional.
He reached for the beer and took a drink that wasn’t enough to help with the tightness in his throat. “Don’t I need, like, a background check or something?” he asked, mostly because he needed a bloody moment to process. It didn’t add up. Had Uri got his number from somewhere else? It wasn’t like his mobile was listed anywhere, but then again, how likely was for someone to find a number on their phone without knowing it was there?
“No!” Uri said too quickly. Odd that he seemed more nervous instead of less. “I mean, yeah, like, people do. But I’ll be there the whole time, so nothing like that. You just... You show up, and do your thing. Th—” He stopped again, almost like he’d stumbled.
“You okay?” Thomas asked.
“Yeah,” Uri answered, actually sounding a little out of breath.
Thomas almost asked him again. Except he couldn’t have caught Uri at a bad time, not when Uri had called him, and as surreal as the whole conversation seemed, no fucking way had the guy he’d slept with a few days back had found his phone number anywhere but where Thomas had left it for him.
I’ll be there the whole time. So if he wanted to see Thomas but couldn’t quite come out and say it... if maybe he wasn’t sure if Thomas had forgotten to tell him about the number or changed his mind... Well, Uri had admitted he preferred playing it safe, hadn’t he?
But Thomas didn’t. And who the fuck said no to orphans anyway?
“Okay, next weekend?” he suggested. It was Friday but he’d just got back from an away game and, anyway, for all that Carry and Keenan’s impromptu private practice had apparently fixed whatever they’d broken in his absence, he didn’t want to leave them unsupervised so soon. They’d won against the Whistling Winds, but their standing was by no means secure yet.
“Oh, yeah,” Uri said. “Well, I have... I have to check with the carers,” he admitted. “But I haven’t heard about any trips so it’s unlikely there’s anything planned.”
“Okay,” Thomas repeated. He was disappointed, he could admit that much; he’d expected to come out of this conversation with a date with a hot man, instead he’d agreed to a playdate with a group of teenagers, most of whom probably preferred football to hockey. “Just let me know the day and time when you find out.”
“Yeah.” Uri’s voice was low, and he didn’t sound like someone who’d got what they wanted out of a conversation. “I will. And... Thank you, I... They’ll love you. It. The class.”
Thomas bit his lip hard to keep from laughing, but he couldn’t hold back completely. “I’m sure I’ll love... them,” he finished after a marked pause.
He was a betting man and if there had been anyone around, he’d have bet that sound had been Uri’s breath stuttering. “Thank you,” the man said. “Um, again,” he added a little wryly.
“Looking forward to it,” Thomas said. “Sweet dreams.”
“You too,” came the whisper, warmer.
Maybe this would work out, after all—teenagers or no teenagers.
“WHERE THE HELL HAVE you been?” Colleen demanded. It was way too early, which was why he’d been too uncoordinated to figure out how to cancel the call and answered it instead.
“Hello to you too,” Thomas told his sister. “Also, Praha.”
“Oh, the...” She huffed. “Still, how many days was that?”
“Two,” he admitted. “But I texted you Wednesday, didn’t I?”
“Sure,” she agreed, not sounding all that mollified. “But on Thursday dad looked through my text messages and threw a fit.”
He groaned, rolling over
on the sofa to press his face against the back of it. “Of course he would violate your privacy and then get angry at what he finds. You have your phone, so I’m guessing you got it off him on time?”
Colleen sighed. “He found out about the trip we want to take for the summer solstice. His first thought? It’s the cover up for alcohol and orgies! And then of course I got the speech.”
Thomas didn’t ask what she meant; he’d got the speech himself often enough. It went something along the lines that just because you were a beta and couldn’t find your soulmate; it didn’t mean you had to throw yourself at any passing stranger like intimacy was meaningless. For Colleen, it had to be even worse because even though Thomas would snatch her out of their parents’ house in a heartbeat if they ever crossed that line, he thought it was heavily implied that she had chosen to be a beta and wasted her chance at perfect love willingly.
It was all the worse because there was no way for Colleen to ever know for sure.
“He’s a dick,” he told his sister sincerely. “You want to come over? I won’t even be here half of next week.”
She snorted. “Yeah, because you bother me so much. Where are you off to this time?”
“Ísland.”
“Ugh, I’m cold just thinking about it,” Colleen said with an audible shudder. “Just for the day?”
“Two days, Wednesday and Thursday. It’s only three hours but the match is a little late in the day. Maybe I’ll get to see the city for once.”
“Oh, yeah, poor you,” Colleen mocked him. “What a hardship it must be flying all over Europa to play a game and get paid like a surgeon.”
“I do not get paid like a surgeon,” he repeated.
“That’s just because surgeons get paid depending on patient satisfaction,” his sister insisted. “But you get paid like the decent ones.”
“Just decent? Gee, thanks.” Then he swallowed and came out with it. “I’ll be around Friday but I’m not sure about the weekend.”
“Not sure? Don’t you have practice on Saturday like usual?”
“It’s optional,” he said, knowing it was as good as a confession.
Colleen whooped. “No way! Do you have a date? Are you meeting one of your hockey heroes? Do you have a date with one of your hockey heroes?”
“Not exactly.”
She must have picked up on his uncertainty because her voice was lower when she asked, “Not exactly a date?”
“Yeah, it’s... well, it’s actually kind of weird. You remember Val’s concert?”
“Yes, but don’t remind her, I’m almost forgiven for missing it.”
“Well, I didn’t miss it so the universe gave me a reward. Met this guy there... and took him home.”
“Wow, you’re picking up at children’s concerts now? In front of the parental unit? How are you still alive?”
“It’s not like I made out with the man in front of them, Col,” he said, rolling his eyes even though she couldn’t see it. The nickname seemed to linger in the air between them, but she didn’t object this time. Thomas didn’t ask.
“But you did make out with him?”
He didn’t feel comfortable discussing that many details, which was exactly why Colleen was asking—if he actually started telling her anything, she’d probably hang up on him. “I did, and it was good. The point being that I was an idiot and added my number to his phone but forgot to tell him about it. I figured that was it, but then yesterday I get home and he calls me.”
“But how—?”
“Exactly!” he cut in. “Except, obviously he found it, because it’s my mobile, not the home phone. And then, you’re going to laugh, but he called me to ask me to volunteer to train at the adoption centre.”
Colleen didn’t laugh, probably too confused to see how ridiculous the whole situation was. “The what?”
“He works there, well, volunteers,” he clarified. “I met one of the kids at the concert and he was really into hockey so it’s not, like, completely out of left field, but I thought...”
“That you would get a booty call?”
Thomas hesitated, not because of the reference to sex, he was fine with that if it was nothing graphic. “I... It wasn’t just the sex, he was funny, and it felt...” He huffed, annoyed with himself. He’d slept with the guy once and now he was making up all these— “I don’t know, it wasn’t a random hook-up, that’s all. But I don’t know what to make of this; pretty sure it’s his way of asking to see me again without committing to anything, but...”
“So he’ll be there when you volunteer?”
“Yeah.”
“Then yes, it’s his way of asking you out without asking you out,” Colleen declared with all the wisdom of her nineteen years on earth.
“Good to know,” he sassed, but he was smiling. He’d already been pretty sure, but it was good to get confirmation from an independent source. “So we could do something on Friday?”
Chapter Eight: Uriel
He was still cringing at the whole conversation—which had been really mortifying, given, but maybe not worth reliving for two days straight. It’d been a mistake to call after work on Friday, he realised now, but he’d figured that if he was upset then he’d have the weekend to calm down.
Thomas was pretty difficult to stop thinking about, so he was grateful when Mx Yave’s new project turned out to be more interesting than he’d initially thought—a divorce, yes, but of a bonded pair. The legal intricacies governing alpha/omega relationships were very different to those of beta marriages. For one thing, the psychic and chemical bond between an alpha and omega couldn’t be dissolved without rather extreme consequences. Repudiation was such a grotesque process that it was only used in the most extreme cases.
And their client wanted to go through with it.
Mx Yave was going to be there for the meeting, but he’d asked Uri to join him since their client was an omega and he hoped she’d take the advice coming from him better than from an anosmic beta. It was as likely to hinder as to help, but they had no omega lawyers on staff and even though Mx Yave had to be around fifty and must have had experience dealing with omegas, they had thought a young unbonded alpha would be a good choice to soften up a forty-five year old omega who had two children already. Maybe it was enough that Uri knew he had no advantage over anyone else—a little modesty to sell his sincere belief that a repudiation would be a mistake.
Reading up on the background so he’d be briefed to meet the client that afternoon took up most of his day—he ate lunch at his desk again, this time without looking away from his reader.
He allowed himself only a small break to put in a call to the adoption centre and check his impromptu hockey game was okay with them. Javier, the carer he spoke to, had been so grateful to him for offering something different for the weekend—which was the hardest time for the kids who didn’t get visitors—that Uri had ended up feeling a little guilty. Not that he hadn’t been thinking of the kids, mostly Kyeran, when he’d asked Thomas to help. But... well, he’d also wanted a chance to see the man again.
He used his eye drops and dove back into the file. He couldn’t afford any distractions—especially not when he had to get through the whole week before any of his questions would get answers.
“Uriel?” Mx Yave’s voice brought him back from squinting at his reader. The light had gone down and he hadn’t noticed.
“Yes?”
“It’s time,” the older lawyer reminded him with a patient smile.
Uri stumbled a little in his hurry to get to his feet. “Yeah, just one moment—” He gathered his papers, placing the reader device on top.
But Mx Yave tsked reprovingly. “We want your attention on the client, don’t worry about the paperwork, you won’t have time to read it while we talk.”
“Of course,” Uri agreed, putting it all back down. He had never worked with Mx Yave before—both Mx Silas and Mx Ahmed liked to be prepared and to look it. He followed his boss back to the spacious office, one
of the walls was glass but there were soft electrical lights giving the room a soft glow.
And an omega woman whose back straightened at once as they entered from behind her. She was on her feet by the time Mx Yave started to greet her. “Your protégé,” she deduced, eyeing Uriel sceptically.
Mx Yave nodded, pretending not to notice her reluctance. “Yes, this is Uriel Alkaim, one of our most promising young lawyers.”
She turned to Uri with almost violent focus, then again, it tended to be hard for omegas to meet an alpha’s eyes and she was staring him straight in the eye. “Call me Claudette.”
With another client, he’d have tried to demur and explain that it wouldn’t be appropriate, but the last thing he could do to an omega who felt threatened was impose his will.
“Of course,” he agreed with a nod. He didn’t offer his hand—she was bonded and it was unlikely to do anything, but it was her prerogative.
“Well, can we get on with things?” she asked Mx Yave.
“Yes, of course, please have a seat, Uriel.”
Uri did, across the desk from their client and making sure to take the chair that left him fully behind his boss’s massive desk.
Up until that moment, Uri had assumed Claudette was considering repudiation. Seriously considering, but still somewhat open to being talked out of it, but it soon became clear that she was determined to go through with it. Uri could understand the grounds for the divorce, but he still wasn’t convinced she needed to go to such extremes.
But he wasn’t here to let his feelings get in the way of helping their client, and if he felt disgusted at the idea... What could the woman proposing to go through with it herself feel?
“You seem very sure,” Mx Yave told her, cautious but not betraying any unease—Uri kept his own mouth shut, aware he wouldn’t be able to disguise his scent even if he managed to keep his expression neutral.
Claudette didn’t look at him, doing him the courtesy of ignoring the reactions he couldn’t help. She nodded at his boss, mouth pursed and scent acrid. Uri’s strongest instinct was to throw himself at her feet and promise her he’d keep her safe. He didn’t move, just dug his nails into his palm and stayed very still, letting her make the choices she needed to make.
