Page 25 of Take All of Me

Lincoln chuckles, oblivious to my spiral. “Nature’s got a funny way of telling us she’s in charge,” he says, preparing another syringe. I don’t even notice him sticking it in my arm and pulling a vial of blood. Guess whatever painkiller he gave me truly is the good stuff. He packages it all up, discarding the syringes and then grabs a clipboard, making a few notes before he speaks again. “Take a few minutes to let the painkiller settle. I’ll check what we’ve got in stock to help you through this—some supplements, maybe a cream for sensitivity. I’ll grab pamphlets, too, to explain what’s changing. The blood test will take a day or two which will help confirm things.” He slips out, leaving me alone with my thoughts, the curtain swaying slightly.

I lean back, staring at the ceiling, the painkiller dulling the ache but not the panic. Alpha. I’ve been a Beta my whole life—cocky, sure, but steady, not some instinct-driven knothead. I think of Gray’s text, his question about a pack, and my chest tightens, because yeah, I’ve got one—Dakota, Maya, Holt, maybe even Brogan—but this changes things.

What if I fuck this up? What if I’m too reactive, too much, and scare Maya off when she’s already running from Nox?

I sit with those thoughts for a while until I’m steady enough to stand, Lincoln handing me a multitude of reading materials, cream, medication, and his number if I need to talk. The only thing I want to do is curl up in my bed and block out the world. When it was just the idea of Dakota changing, I could handle it, but me too? I’m not sure this is going to go very well.

I’m barely up the steps of Frosbite Hall when I catch Holt glaring at me from the entrance of Dakota’s room. “Want to tell me what’s going on? Because I’ve been sitting here, wondering what you could possibly need from the rink. Then I checked—you weren’t there. And for the second time today, I felt this terror in my chest, like I was gonna lose one of you. So,please, explain, because I can see it in your eyes that something is wrong.”

I want to tell him about the knot, the doctor, the whole Alpha thing, but shame chokes me. What if he thinks I’m broken? What if Iam? What if Holt doesn’t want another Alpha in the pack? Holt steps closer, his mahogany scent wrapping around me as his tone softens. “Babe, talk to me. What’s going on?”

A rough, shaky exhale falls from me as I meet his gaze. “Remember how I said we’re basically our own little fucked-up pack?” I start. “I thought my dick was gonna fall off.”

Holt’s brows shoot up, confusion flickering in his expression. “What does that have to do with anything?” he asks, stepping closer, worry creasing his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not a Beta.”

“Excuse me?”

I groan, pacing a step, the ache in my cock flaring as I move. “Thought it was a fucking joke,” I mutter, “but the doctor said blood tests’ll confirm in two days if I’m an Alpha or not.”

Holt’s brows raise higher as he lets out a low whistle, a grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, we are a little fucked-up pack. Jesus Christ.”

I huff, feeling wildly out of place, like I don’t fit in my own skin anymore. “Apparently, I’ve been growing a knot, but it really hit today, and I just…” I groan again. “Doctor gave me pamphlets, painkillers. I was fine being a Beta, Holt. This…”

He steps forward, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, we’re figuring it out with Dakota, so we’ll do the same with you. How’s your dick feel?”

I snort, caught off guard, and glance down, shifting uncomfortably. “Sensitive as fuck,” I admit, “and I’m hard. It’s… uncomfortable.”

Holt’s grin widens, a mischievous edge to it as he nods toward the door. “I think we can do something about that,” he says, pushing it open. “Hey, Kota Bug, Roman’s got a knot for you to play with since you’re done eating.”

My eyes widen, heat rushing to my face, because fuck, he just said that, like it’s no big deal. Dakota’s on the bed, re-propping pillows, little grunts and purrs spilling from him, his brown eyes hazy with that Omega fog. He looks up, catching sight of me, and grins—an animalistic, hungry smile that sends a jolt straight to my already aching cock.

Holt laughs, leaning against the wall, his scent spiking with amusement. “Damn, that’s cute,” he says, and I shoot him a glare, ready to snap that it’snotcute, but Dakota’s already moving, stalking across the room like a predator. He drops to his knees in front of me, hands tugging my pants down before I canblink, and I hiss as the fabric drags over my swollen base. His purr rumbles louder, vibrating through me, and then he’s on me, swallowing me whole.

“Jesus Christ,” I choke out, my hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as pleasure crashes over me. The sensitivity’s insane, every lick, every pull sending sparks up my spine, and I’m already shaking, barely holding on. Holt’s still there, watching with that grin, and I want to be pissed at his teasing, but Dakota’s mouth is relentless, his purr humming against me, and I can’t think straight.

It’s sweet, how easy this is—Dakota taking me as I am, knot and all, no questions, just need. I groan, head tipping back as Dakota’s hands grip my thighs, steadying me as he works, his tongue curling just right. The pain’s gone, drowned in heat, and I feel it—that knot swelling, tentative but there, a new weight that’s both foreign and right. I’m not ready for this, not for Alpha instincts or blood tests or any of it, but here with them, I think maybe I can be.

“Kota,” I gasp in a warning, but he just hums, taking me deeper. Then I’m gone, coming hard, stars bursting behind my eyes. He stays with me, purring through it, and when I finally catch my breath, he pulls back, grinning up at me, lips slick with my release.

The haze seems to have dimmed a little bit, Dakota standing up to his full height, murmuring words before he claims me in a kiss. “I think I like the knot.”

I just hope I enjoy it as much as he does.

Maya

The rink hums with pre-practice chatter, the sharp scrape of skates and clatter of sticks filling the air, but my nerves are shot. This evening is the first official practice with me as the assistant coach and I’m hyper-aware that every guy here knows dinner was canceled last night because of me. I stand by the bench, clipboard clutched tight, my stomach twisting as I brace for their stares, their questions, their pity.

I woke up safe and warm in Brogan’s arms this morning, his rain scent soothing a mini nightmare that faded when Brogan murmured Holt had dropped off grilled cheese for dinner. We didn’t talk much after that, just sat in silence, me curled in his lap as he fed me bites until silence turned to soft kisses, then to him making love to me again, like I was something precious.Him telling me that it was okay to be needy meant everything but now I’m here and I’m terrified of what the team will think.

Which is why I’m not ready for them skating out asking if I’m okay, the concern and care in their expressions making me relax just a little bit. Ethan’s already on the ice, warming up, and Sam’s joking with Logan, but my eyes keep darting to the tunnel, waiting for Dakota, Brogan, Roman, and Holt. When they emerge, my heart stumbles. Brogan’s first, hazel eyes finding mine as he crosses to me, dropping a gentle kiss on my cheek. Dakota’s next, mirroring Brogan’s kiss, Roman throwing me a quick, distracted wave that doesn’t match his usually laidback demeanor. I glance at Holt, stepping up beside me, and raise a brow, silently asking what’s up.

“Roman’ll have to explain that one to you. Nothing bad, he’s just working through some things.”

I nod, not pushing, but worry gnaws at me as Holt claps his hands, calling the team to order. “Let’s move!” he shouts and practice kicks off, drills and plays unfolding under the rink’s harsh lights. I pitch in, calling out adjustments when I see them—Ethan’s too slow on the pivot, Sam’s leaving gaps in defense—but my focus keeps splitting. Dakota’s fading, his movements sluggish, like he’s dragging himself through the plays, and Roman’s… different. He’s always intense but tonight he’s peeved, more than usual, his shoulders tense.

“Is he always that angry when he plays?” I ask Holt, keeping my voice low as we watch Roman body-check Logan harder than necessary.

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