Not Destiny

by N. J. Lysk

  He was nothing but a distraction, a convenient outlet for a desire their society didn’t allow an alpha to express outside of a bond.

  Thomas had never been as happy to hear his alarm go off as in that moment. He’d left his phone with his jacket in the kitchen and his body reacted without thought, rushing to turn the sound off. Being away from the bedroom should have helped, but the kitchen table—empty now of the homemade dinner that had warmed him deep inside the previous night—did nothing but underline the depth of the pretence.

  Maybe it wasn’t all a lie. After all, Thomas had hardly played hard to get, had he? Uri was a busy lawyer, he could have ordered takeaway—hell, he could have ordered takeaway and passed it off as his own cooking, and Thomas would have been none the wiser.

  It didn’t make sense. Who went to all this trouble just to get laid? Not people who looked like Uriel, surely. Even if he—

  It was fortunate Uriel wasn’t there or he would have stormed back into the bedroom and demanded an explanation.

  He felt bad enough as it was, and the Flames were doing better than they had in years; he couldn’t afford to screw up. He was the beta, the steady one—if Carry and Keenan had sorted themselves out once and for all, he wasn’t going to screw it up for them all.

  He could ask Uriel later. Or not.

  KEENAN HAD NO WAY OF knowing about Thomas’s efforts to remain neutral and focused on the game.

  It had nothing to do with him at all: Keenan had invited his girlfriend to watch him play and a reporter had taken issue with the fact that she was an omega and they were dating ‘like betas’, whatever that meant. It sounded like something his dad might say.

  Keenan hadn’t objected to that, more concerned with being told by another alpha what he could and couldn’t do in his private life. The man’s orientation was quite clear by how quickly he’d figured out that Keenan’s girlfriend was an omega and the way he was standing almost in Keenan’s space.

  Thomas’s parents had spent their whole lives modelling proper alpha and omega behaviour. He might be anosmic, and he might have missed the signs about Uri because he didn’t act the part, but he could read body language just fine.

  The reporter was an arsehole, and Keenan mostly kept his cool and made very valid points: alphas and omegas had every right to try dating before they initiated a formal courtship. He didn’t say dating included sex, but the reporter’s questions were heavily hinting that he was disgracing his companion and her family should object.

  It wasn’t a great PR strategy, but in a way it was kind of romantic: the kind of knight-in-shining-armour-standing-in-front-of-a-dragon behaviour alphas were meant to engage in to impress and keep their omega soulmates.

  A homemade meal didn’t seem like such a fine effort in comparison.

  But what could Thomas ask from Uri? He couldn’t offer a bond that would link their bodies and souls—a loop of affection and pleasure, a connection that would allow them to speak without words and always know where the other was...

  Right then, Carry, who they’d often joked was allergic to the press, got up and hit Keenan. Even without any skin-on-skin contact, the reporter still stiffened. He was definitely an alpha then. “We need to go shower.”

  Keenan turned towards Carry, but the other alpha couldn’t let it go, “What about her family, Avali? What do they think of you 'dating' their omega daughter?”

  Maybe because Carry wasn’t the omega Keenan was trying to impress, maybe because the other alpha was clearly challenging him on territory Thomas supposed he’d consider his own, Keenan couldn’t let it go either.

  Thomas couldn’t perceive Keenan’s scent, but he bet it was something fiery and overwhelming when he turned around to face the reporter and spoke in a tightly controlled voice that leaked anger like a dam about to blow. “This is a hockey game, and I'm a hockey player and that is all that should concern you regarding me. My personal life is just that: personal, and the people in it have nothing to do with my public profession.” Thomas would have gladly clapped at that, but Keenan wasn’t done. “And there is no reason an adult, whatever their orientation, should be constrained in their personal lives by the prejudices of a small-minded majority.”

  The words seemed to cut right through something in him. Keenan wasn’t talking about him, he knew that, but... It was about him. It was about Uri, too. About the fact that everything the man had done so far had seemed sincere. Fuck, had been sincere, but it wasn’t meant to count because they weren’t meant to count. They could sleep together, make dinner and have dates and make each other happy.

  And arseholes like this one would look at them and tell them to stop playing games.

  Except... The instincts were real, weren’t they?

  Keenan stalked off, Carry waiting only until Santiago started to follow to scamper off himself. And Thomas just watched them, mind swirling, until Bobby slowed down next to him and tugged on his elbow.

  “Come on, rookie,” the d-man told him, offering an amused smile that seemed on the edge of turning into an eye-roll.

  Thomas went, but he didn’t return Bobby’s smile.

  SANTIAGO INSISTED ON going out for drinks to celebrate their victory, and it seemed more trouble to deny him than to sit in front of a pint for half an hour. Once everyone else was distracted, Thomas went home. He was still sore from the game, but he changed into workout clothes and went down to the gym. He wasn’t surprised to find Carry there—the left-winger had left early, reverting to his natural introverted tendencies after the tension at the end of the game.

  He was already sweaty and grunting a little as he lifted weights over his head. Thomas waited until he’d safely put them down before speaking, but he still almost got his head bitten off.

  It wasn’t that rare for Carry, who was prickly at the best of times, but he realised it was something more than a reflex when his linemate didn’t respond. They’d been doing so well, too, but if Keenan’s outburst had messed with Carry... “Is it because of what Keenan said?”

  He sat on the next machine over, not looking at Carry, who refused to meet his eyes for more than a few seconds even when he was in the best of moods.

  Apparently, this would be the exception because his linemate abruptly sat up, head snapping in his direction. “What? Why...?”

  Thomas sighed. He really didn’t have the energy to pretend right now. “Carry, you told me about the mindreading, then the guy goes and gives a speech about omega rights out of nowhere? Come on.”

  "I told you, there's no mind reading!” Carry almost spat. “We just get an inkling of where the other is or what he’ll do. And that... it wasn’t planned or anything. His girlfriend is a lawyer; she obviously has some strong views about omega rights.”

  A lawyer. He’d known that, he thought, but it wasn’t like Keenan had ever brought Amalia over to meet them, so... He wondered what Uri thought about omega rights. With his upbringing Thomas would have expected— He shoved the thought of Uriel away. This wasn’t about him, even if there was a chance...

  “I haven't really talked to Amalia,” he admitted. The omega girlfriend was a solid theory, except Thomas tried to be discreet, but he wasn’t stupid—Keenan might have had an hormonal advantage because of his orientation and an A on his jersey, but no one could play with them and not see who was running their line. Carry hadn’t even tried to deny it when Thomas had pointed it out, even though it was alphas who were meant to lead. “Mostly because Keenan's kept her well away from the team. But you know who else has strong views on omega rights?”

  Carry froze, but he didn’t try to deny that either. He wasn’t speaking out to any reporters, but when he was pushed, he wasn’t exactly discreet about his opinions either. Even so, there was one thing he wasn’t willing to concede. “That's not it,” he insisted, readjusting the weights for no good reason Thomas could see. “He's never listened to me about it before, why would he start now?”

  Oh, gods above and below, the boy was ridiculous. Keenan pra
ctically jumped to attention any time he walked into a room, but he’d never listened to him before? If he couldn’t see something that obvious...

  Except maybe it was just a matter of perspective, right? Maybe Carry understood something about Keenan that a beta couldn’t understand about an alpha. Carry was generally terrible with people, but with Keenan... well, he could not read Keenan’s mind, apparently, but it certainly seemed like he could.

  The two of them only saw each other on the ice and during team outings, and Thomas had been dating Uriel, seen him in his most intimate moments, been allowed to hold him as he lost it, to— It’d felt so real. But how could it compare?

  “Okay, it's just...” Thomas sighed. “It made me think. Carry...” He rubbed his face, needing the distance even if his linemate wasn’t looking at him.

  Carry straightened, his laser focus redirecting from the machine to Thomas at once. “What's wrong?”

  Thomas bent forward until he could rest his elbows on his raised knees. He didn’t want to see Carry’s face right now. “The thing is... Uri is an alpha.”

  “Oh, I had no idea.” Carry sounded surprised but not disapproving. Of course, if anyone thought alphas and betas dating was a grand idea, it was Carry. For one thing, he didn’t want to be bothered by any alphas, so why would he object to betas taking them? Maybe he could try that argument on his parents... If he wanted them both to stop talking to him, that was.

  “Yeah, well,” Thomas said rather nonsensically. “Neither does he.”

  “What?”

  “I mean," Thomas amended. "He knows, obviously, he just doesn't know I know.”

  He risked a glance. Carry was frowning slightly, as if trying to find some frame of reference to judge the situation. He obviously couldn’t manage. “Is that normal? Like, not telling? You guys have been seeing each other for ages.”

  Thomas shrugged, letting his head fall forward again. “I don't know, I guess... I mean, he doesn't have to tell me, right?”

  “I probably wouldn't have told you,” Carry said. “Not exactly the professional image I want to project.”

  “Yes!” Thomas agreed, turning towards his friend. It was probably best if he didn’t touch the weights while they spoke of this. “But that I totally get, because it's professional and your... preferences and needs?” he tried. His parents simply said ‘orientation’ or ‘nature’, but both terms rubbed him the wrong way. “That's none of my business, it's got nothing to do with hockey.” Carry nodded. “But Uri and I are dating, I figure what turns him on is definitely my business, right?”

  Carry, who could dissect a play to the tiniest shift of skates on the ice, wasn’t really that good at this kind of thing, Thomas remembered. But he didn’t see how he could take it back, and— “Is it... not good? Between you, I mean,” he asked Thomas after a long pause.

  “What? No! It's great, like... really great.” Thomas swallowed, lips curving upwards even as his eyes watered. It just didn’t make sense, to have that kind of chemistry with someone who...

  “So why would you need to know?” Carry asked. “He's clearly happy with whatever you guys do together, and you look happy, too. What does it matter if he likes other things too?”

  “Well, if he...” Thomas hesitated, but when he checked, Carry was looking at him for once. “Please don't take this the wrong way, but if he meets an omega and they’re compatible...”

  Carry burst out laughing so suddenly Thomas almost dropped the weight he’d been fiddling with on his foot. He put it down, clenching his hands hard enough his nails bit into his palms. He was an idiot, if he broke a toe he’d be benched for at least five games. “No, no, I'm not offended. It's just that being compatible doesn't magically make for a perfect relationship. They love to make up stories about it. But... it doesn't work like that. Just because an alpha and an omega are compatible, it doesn't... they don't have to be together. I mean, they might end up sleeping together, but that doesn't last.” He shook his head and continued, “And there's plenty of alpha/omega pairs who aren't very compatible and have great marriages or whatever. And alpha/beta relationships, too.”

  “Well, the only one I've seen didn't end very well,” Thomas confessed. There was no point beating around the bush, he didn’t want his parents to run his life, or to carry around their prejudices and biases, but... It was hard not to believe some of it—he’d seen it with them, he could see it with Carry and Keenan even when they weren’t together at all.

  “The alpha left the beta for an omega?” Carry guessed.

  “Yes,” Thomas said, “and six months later, I was born.”

  “Your mum is a beta?” Carry asked.

  The idea hadn’t even crossed his mind—his father’s ex-wife was a beta, but beta women could conceive children too, even if not that frequently. He shook his head, as much to dispel the thought as to answer Carry. “My dad's an omega. And if they find out I'm getting between an alpha and his perfect mate...”

  “Oh, fuck, Thomas...” Carry said and actually leaned forwards and squeezed his arm. Thomas leaned into it, relishing the support. He wouldn’t have minded a hug, but that wasn’t really Carry’s thing. Not without padding and a goal to celebrate.

  “Pretty much,” he confirmed. Then added, “I think I want to work out until I pass out now.”

  Chapter Sixteen: Uriel

  He wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing. Not the fucking, the leaving the man who’d done it alone in bed afterwards.

  He’d had to, of course, and Thomas couldn’t be offended that he had to go to work, could he?

  Except he’d woken before his alarm was due to go off. He could have... He could have woken him with a blowjob—and breakfast in bed. A kiss.

  Hades, he could have left him breakfast in the kitchen, his coffee maker could be programmed to start up at a certain time and... And he hadn’t done any of it, left no sign of how special it'd been.

  Because he couldn’t explain. No, because he couldn’t explain it to himself. He’d done it on a burst of rebelliousness he was too old to indulge in and... love, desire. He’d wanted it even as he’d been afraid of wanting it. He’d looked at Thomas, who was so at ease with his own body and sexuality, who didn’t blink at the idea that he liked getting fucked or that other men didn’t... And he’d wanted to be brave, too.

  But he wasn’t. He’d thrown down the gauntlet and ran away from the duel. If alphas were meant to be strong, this was the biggest failure of all, not how much he’d liked having another man on top of him, inside him, taking every inch of his body while Uri could do nothing but writhe in pleasure and hold on.

  That was a physical act, the failure lay not in the actions—which they’d both found pleasure in with no harm done—but in his shame. He’d done nothing wrong, and he still couldn’t ignore the voices demanding to know how he could possibly—

  And why? He’d felt... safe. Cared for. Like he could close his eyes and rest, give up the vigilance with which he lived his life for a few hours because someone trustworthy was there.

  Because Thomas was there. Thomas, who dared to do anything but never forgot what was truly important. Thomas, who made him want to be brave, to try, even if he failed.

  Thomas, who’d answered his message with a smiley and hadn’t spoken to him since.

  Thomas was busy. Uri knew that. It was a perfectly appropriate response, and so was the [All good, you?] he’d got the next day. The man had just been shipped back and forth internationally and played a gruelling game—Uri had searched for it and paid for a subscription on a burst of self-confidence that was rapidly deflating.

  But he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off; waking up with the man in his bed for the first time had made him want to curl up around him and never let him go.

  He had only allowed himself to watch for a moment, overwhelmed by the tenderness closing up his throat.

  And he’d let go.

  No, he’d run away.

  But Thomas didn�
�t know that. Uri had needed to go to work, after all. What could be more reasonable?

  He had gone to work, of course, and he’d done his best to make a cup of strong black tea wake him up enough to focus on something beyond what he’d left behind, what his body couldn’t forget. He wasn’t sore, exactly, but he wouldn’t— It was there, more a slight pull than pain or even discomfort.

  He wasn’t that naïve, he knew it wasn’t the physical sensation haunting him.

  He didn't think he'd done anything wrong in bed; he didn't see how he could have with the way he'd let Thomas take the lead. But he'd done something else he wasn't proud of. Something he'd known was wrong all along, even if he hadn't wanted it to be. He hadn't wanted it to matter, but that wasn't how you changed reality. You couldn't just want, you needed to work things into existence.

  He wasn't brave enough to call Thomas and just say it, not even when he strongly suspected the man had to know. But he was brave enough to think it, and now he'd be brave enough to talk about it.

  If there was someone who would always forgive him, it'd be his mum. Esti liked to laze about on weekends, and every Saturday morning, Ruth went to synagogue to volunteer her time as a Hebrew teacher. She didn’t always go to the Shabbat ceremonies on Friday afternoons, but she would’ve had to have the plague to miss teaching. For her, questioning was a much more fundamental part of religion than liturgy—the very basis of why they studied holy texts in the first place, because they did not understand the universe. Esti was a more down-to-earth Jew, the kind who kept recipes more than kosher, so as a family they all attended the temple for the holidays, but the rest of the time they talked to God in private.

  Uri didn’t think God had an answer for this fuck-up, but Esti might.

  "Uri," his mum said as she opened the door. She was quick at reading people, but she was also good at giving them space.

  Uri followed her to the kitchen and sat as she made tea, chatting about the bubbeh's latest shenanigans. Esti had the patience of a saint, but Uri and David had a theory that Ruth’s mother liked to test how far she could go before Esti would put her foot down. Esti, on the other hand, seemed determined never to lose her cool with the old woman. Normally, Uri would be laughing, but right then not even his grandma’s absurd comments could penetrate the fog of doubt he was lost in.