Page 66 of The Price of Ice

Except Kallenhadbeen raped, by McKinley if no one else. And he remembered the drowning shame of it all too vividly, clogging and full of hatred towards himself—even now with the small comfort of knowing he’d never allow it again, the thought twisted something in him.

Levy’s story didn’t feel like that. Levy’s story made him... sad. Levy’s shaking shoulders made him ache, deep inside, with compassion. And it should have made no sense, except for how even in the story Levy had done the wrong thing without wanting to do it.

Hadn’t Kallen done exactly the same when he’d walked into that heat room month after month?

Every single alpha in the team was responsible... But so was Kallen. At least for the parts he’d agreed to by contract, and in some way even to the worse stuff that wasn’t supposed to happen, but he kept allowing Management to sweep under the carpet. It wasn’t hisfault, this fucked up society and the twisting distortion they’d made of his phenotype and of the game he loved. Ofhim.

But no one had made him agree to sell himself for the price of hockey. His dad had trained him for it and minimised what it would mean to be a team omega, but his mother had warned him off, too.

Kallen had chosen.

He’d made a fucked-up choice, and he’d kept on making it.

And he wasn’t sure how he was going to forgive himself for any of it. But it wasn’t that hard to reach out and put his hand on Levy’s shoulder, barely resting it there, to crawl closer and put his other arm around the alpha’s waist, clinging hard when Levy jolted against him.

“Shh,” he whispered. Levy was shaking all over, gasping like he was drowning in dry land. “You fucked up,” Kallen told him,his voice almost distant. “I know. But you didn’t do that. You didn’t rape me.”

Levy tensed up in his arms, almost as if he wanted to get away. Kallen clung on, teeth gritted, because this wasn’t the time to let go, and if the alpha wanted to get away, he could, but Kallen wasn’t going to make it easy.

It was his choice, whether to forgive Levy. And he wasn’t going to give that up so Levy could torture himself.

“Kallen,” his friend said, almost begging. He’d slumped again and he was sniffing but no longer crying.

“You didnotrape me,” Kallen said again. “Do you hear me? I signed a contract saying you could fuck me, and I walked in there with my own two feet.I knew. It was my choice.”

Some of that must have penetrated because Levy moved but only to twist his neck towards him. Kallen loosened his hold to allow it.

Levy wiped at his face, but his eyes were reddened, eyelashes stuck together with tears, and he was frowning. “But... they wouldn’t let you play if you didn’t.”

“No,” Kallen agreed and finally let go of him completely to grab his own hands. “But I don’t need to play to live. I can—” He swallowed but forced the words out. They hurt no less this time than when he’d admitted it to Brad, but they were still true. “I can live without hockey.”

Levy was watching him with wide, scared eyes.He didn’t know, Kallen realised. He didn’t know he could live without hockey. Maybe he couldn’t. Who the fuck was Kallen to say? But that didn’t matter, because if he thought he couldn’t, that meant he was trapped. As stuck in the system as Kallen had been all this time.

He’d never asked for this story. Because he hadn’tneededit. He’d always known Levy didn’t want to have sex with him except to give him pleasure. That’s why Kallen had wanted him.

Levy wouldn’t want to have sex with any other team omega either, not under a contract that allowed the kind of violence it did—at least in practice.

But he’d do it, if he thought it was the price of ice.

He sighed, rubbing at his eyes where he could feel a headache building. He wanted to tell Levy, except what could words convey that his actions wouldn’t? All they seemed to do was muddle things up. If he’d just kept kissing his lover, by now they’d be cuddled together in post-coital bliss instead of having this super awkward conversation.

“Sorry,” Levy mumbled and Kallen caught his mouth twisting to the side when he looked. “This was supposed to be a celebration, and I... Didn’t mean to be such a downer.”

Kallen smacked him a little too hard on the bare skin of his shoulder.

“Hey!” Levy flinched away. “What’s that for?”

“You are allowed feelings.” Kallen leaned over the side of the bed, smiling at his body’s responsiveness. He fetched his boxers from the mess and swung his legs to the side to put them on.

He picked up his shirt next but paused when he caught sight of Levy still sitting in the corner of the bed, watching him. Had he read this wrong? Because it hadn’t seemed like there was any way to turn it back around and he’d been getting cold.

“You really don’t... You are not angry.” It wasn’t technically a question by the smallest of margins.

“Not with you.” He got his head past the t-shirt neck. “You bought their bullshit just like I did, and you didn’t like it either. It would be a little hypocritical if I was mad at you and not myself." He paused. “Well, actually I’m still pretty pissed at me. Guess I like you better.”

Levy shook his head at him, but he was going soft in that way he did when he saw Kallen, as if despite his better judgement. “I like you better too.”

And for a moment, Kallen looked back and wondered. Then Levy reached for his own clothing and the moment was gone.

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