Page 141 of Power Shift

Dash swallows so loudly I can hear it over the drone of chatting voices and pop music that fills the store. “Okay, so we’re going to make it our mission to help with the clinic, right?”

“Not just the clinic. I’m going to do everything I can to give her the best life possible.”

“I’m going to get another cart.”

I blow out a laugh. “Grab two.”

We worebaseball caps on purpose. If it were socially acceptable to wear sunglasses inside, we’d have done that, too, if it meant avoiding being recognized in public.

Pushing three carts overflowing with home goods, we nearly make it from the entrance to the front tills successfully. I know the moment the couple we pass gasps with their eyes on Dash and me that our peaceful shopping trip is going to be interrupted.

“Is that? . . .” the woman whispers to the guy beside her.

My packmate notices them at the same time I do and is quick to intervene before they have a chance to draw attention to us.

He slows his gait a bit and lets Briar get ahead of us before flashing them a glimmering grin. “Do you want us to sign something? If we could just keep this a bit quiet, we’d appreciate that.”

The man—an alpha by the size of him—rubs a hand up and down the omega’s arm. “I don’t have anything for you to sign—wait! What about my arm?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dash says.

I stare at the woman’s purse. “Do you have a pen?”

“Yes!” She pulls her hair behind her shoulders and drops her purse from her arm before starting to dig through it.

The movement exposes the two healed bite marks on her throat. I immediately look for Briar.

She’s already looking at me, curious but content as we deal with the couple. The trust she has in us only makes the yearning I feel worse. I want my mark on her throat more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.

My hockey career pales in comparison to her.

Her brow lifts in a silent question, and I smile back, unashamed of how lovesick I must look.

“Is that your omega?”

The question comes from the woman no longer rooting through her purse. She stares warmly between me and Briar with a knowing gaze that I don’t take offense from.

“Yeah, Briar’s our omega. Though, I’d say we should word it more like we’re her alphas. She calls the shots around here,” I say.

Her face lights up. “I like that. She doesn’t mind when this happens?”

“The fan interactions?”

“Yes.”

“This is actually the first time it’s happened.”

A bite of surprise appears. “Well, I think she’s just fine with it.”

I find Briar again and get that confirmation for myself. When she looks at Dash. I follow her eyes and swallow a laugh.

“I’m going to get this tattooed. You’re the best goalie in the league, man. I hope you get your recognition soon,” the guy tells him.

Dash’s chest puffs with pride while he continues drawing on the arm in front of him. It’s truly terrible, a complete mess of smudged letters and a hockey stick that looks like a tree branch.

“Alright, you’re done. Don’t hesitate to send a photo of it to my socials when you’ve gotten it inked so I can see,” he says before looking up to offer me the pen.

The man stares at Dash’s drawing like it’s a masterpiece while offering me the patch of skin just above it. My signature is much quicker and a hell of a lot neater than Dash’s.

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