Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types, Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Brad Hammersmith, Connors (Heated Rivalry), Victor St. Simon, Sebbin (Heated Rivalry), Hayden Pike, Jackie Pike, Ryan Carmichael, David Hollander, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Kip Grady, Ryan Price (Game Changers), Fabian Salah, Eric Bennett, Kyle Swift, George Grady, Wyatt Hayes

Additional Tags:

Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Alpha Ilya Rozanov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Shane Hollander, Kidnapping, Organized Crime, College | University Student Shane Hollander, Criminal Ilya Rozanov, Masturbation, Boston College Eagles Men's Hockey Team, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Soft Dom Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander Walks Ilya Rozanov Like A Dog, Criminal David Hollander, Alpha David Hollander, David Hollander Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, David Hollander & Ilya Rozanov Bonding, mate challenge, Good Friend Jackie Pike, The Kingfisher (Game Changers), Dumb Hockey Boys, Jackie Pike & Ilya Rozanov Friendship, Criminal Masterminds, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Good Friend Hayden Pike, Hayden Pike & Ilya Rozanov Friendship, Crime Boss Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike is a Southie, Alpha Kip Grady, Alpha Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Shane Hollander Speaks French, No Mpreg | Male Pregnancy

Language:

English

Collections:

Hollanov ABO

Stats:

Published: 2026-07-15 Updated: 2026-08-28 Words: 27,955 Chapters: 7/?

Accidentally, Mine

Summary

"You sure about this?” Pike asked as Ilya made it to the door.

The scent was so strong here it felt like Ilya was walking through a cloud of aerosolized candy. It felt sticky on his skin, in his hair. Ilya could feel the warm flush on the tops of his ears, across his cheeks. He blinked a few times, letting the beta’s words sink in. “Yes, fine,” he growled back.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem like Pike was affected at all, thanks to his scent-blind beta nose. “So… there’s no easy way to say this,” the man said nervously. “The guys totally fucked up.” He handed over a plain black wallet.

Ilya opened it, found the Boston College ID card and pulled it out. A handsome Asian boy looked back at him. He had short black hair, warm golden skin, and dark eyes. There was a shadow stretched across his cheeks, something Ilya couldn’t quite make out in the tiny picture. Shane Hollander, the card read. Sophmore. 

“How the hell do they make this mistake?” Ilya half-shouted. He snarled again, fought against it, got his face under control. “Fuck.” 

“Yeah,” Pike agreed. “Fuck.”

---

Sometimes the first step in finding true love is to accidentally kidnap the wrong guy.

Chapter 1: Boss we got a problem

Chapter Summary

Alpha Ilya Rozanov's day starts off strange and gets worse: not only have his guys kidnapped the wrong guy, but the innocent college kid tied up in Ilya's office has also, suddenly, gone into heat.

Beta Shane Hollander's day started off fine but became suddenly, catastrophically bad: he got kidnapped, tied up, and then out of nowhere presented as an Omega at his big age of 19, far later than most. The startlingly attractive Alpha plans to keep him locked away while Shane rides out his first heat, and what's worse is that Shane starts begging for things he would normally never say to a stranger. Even worse than that, that asshole seems to have enough restraint to keep himself from taking advantage of Shane's response to his new Omega hormones.

Chapter Notes

Baby's first A/B/O. Be gentle, please. Additional tags will be added as I write more and figure out what tags we need.

There explicit sex in this chapter which is arguably a little bit non-con because of the nature of omega heats/scenting but it's not the intention of anyone involved for it to be non-con and it's discussed as much as possible in the situation. So I don't think it warrants the warning but let me know if you disagree.

It wasn’t the text messages Marly sent him that finally got Ilya’s attention, though the buzzing of his phone was a distraction he didn’t need that morning. He had barely stepped out of the shower before he got confirmation that his boys had picked up a low-level dealer who’d been making too many moves on campus to be ignored. They were meant to bring him to Ilya’s office downtown, leave him tied up and frightened, until Ilya could get there to watch his lieutenant pressure the kid into giving up the next guy in the food chain. Simple. Straightforward. Nothing that warranted rushing through his morning routine.

By 7:30 AM the messages had changed. Boss we got a problem, Marly wrote first. How soon can you get here? came in at 7:36 AM. Then, strangest of all, gotta clear alphas out building at 7:48 AM.

It was 7:54 AM when Ilya finally finished his breakfast – egg white omelet, black coffee, side of bacon – and looked at his phone. Marly was an alpha, like Ilya himself and two-thirds of the guys in their organization. Was Marly clearing out of the building too? No, he would have mentioned that. More importantly, why was he doing this? Ilya pulled up his appointments for the day; sometimes they’d take a precaution like that if someone important was bringing an omega with them for a meeting, but that was the sort of thing arranged in advance. Simply being an omega wasn’t enough to empty a room of alphas, but if the important person was newly mated, or their mate was pregnant, that could sometimes make an alpha protective in a way that interfered with business discussions. A courtesy could be extended in that case.

Ilya was picking up his keys from the little bowl by his penthouse door when his phone rang. Marly. “What?” he barked, slipping into a long overcoat as he held the phone between his chin and shoulder.

“Boss,” Marly growled, his voice thick. “Problem. Kid. Need betas.”

“What fucking kid?” Ilya asked. He pulled the door shut behind him, making sure he heard the lock click.

“The one you wanted,” Marly said. His voice was low. Too low. “Sean something. Boss, he’s omega. His heat hit us bad.”

“No, he’s not,” Ilya snapped back. He’d read the file on the kid Marly was calling about: Sean Holloway, loose connections to the Irish, 23, Boston College dropout but enough friends on campus to build up a thriving business slinging Molly and a few other club drugs that should definitely have gone through Ilya’s guys instead. “Certified beta,” he said. “You’re confused.” Except Ilya knew Marly didn’t get confused, not about things like the difference between a beta and an omega putting out enough pheromones to make a man his size go sideways. Ilya smashed the down button on his private elevator.

“I swear to you, there’s a kid in your office kicking out so much scent we had to clear the fucking floor,” Marly choked out. “I had to knock Ryan clean out. It took Pike and Connors both to get Vic downstairs and Vicky’s got a fucking mate!” There was a loud groan out of the phone; it echoed in the tiny elevator.

“Get outside,” Ilya ordered as he got out at the parking level. “Send Connors back up to sit with the kid, put Pike on the door. I’ll be there in 10.” Those two were betas, good men who did a solid job at their level, could hopefully be trusted with whatever the fuck was happening right now. Ilya hung up and hit the remote start on his Audi Q8. It typically took 15 minutes to get to the office in midweek morning traffic, assuming one mostly paid attention to stoplights and traffic laws. Ilya got there in eight. He’d called in reinforcements on the way.

He pulled in too quickly, scraped the front tire of his SUV on the curb, and hopped out before the engine was completely dead. “Tell me!” he shouted to the men assembled in front of the office door.

Ryan was sitting upright, one hand on the reddish purple bruise blossoming across his jaw. Marly was next to him, sitting on the ground with his back against the brick. Vic was doing a little better; he was upright at least, one hand pressed against the wall as if it were doing most of the work keeping gravity at bay. All of them, muscular alphas over six feet tall. Marly, the most reliable man Ilya had ever known. Vic, happily married and mated. Ryan, Ilya was absolutely certain until this very moment, wasn’t even interested in sex. All of them brought down by a single omega’s scent.

An omega who was a certified beta, up until this morning. None of this should be possible.

“Boss,” Vic said, stumbling a little over his words. “You can’t go in there.”

Marly nodded. “Better out here.” He waved one of his hands. “In the... air.”

Ilya stood over his friend. “Run me through it.”

Ryan swallowed. “Me and Connors grabbed him off campus. Should’ve been easy but the kid’s prolly 6 foot and 180, solid meat.”

Ilya frowned at that. He’d expected Holloway to be scrawny, the kind of wiry you get from running from the cops and getting into your own supply a few too many times. Shorter too; most betas usually were. The kid they were describing could’ve been an alpha, maybe. Low end of one at least. “But you got him, here?” he asked.

Vic nodded. “He was fine when they brought him in. I mean, not fine fine. They had him tied up and it took them both to carry him in, he was still kicking.” He took a deep breath, pushing off from the wall. “No scent though. Just, sweaty. Normal sweaty. Kind of freaked out, I guess.”

“We had him in the office, 20 minutes,” Marly added. “All the sudden, you could smell it. Cotton candy, you know? Filled up the office so fast it made my head spin.”

“Thank god Connors was still in the room and Pike was on the floor.” Vic shook his head, like he was clearing out the last of the cobwebs. When he spoke again, his voice was back to normal. “Ryan had gone back downstairs. First thing I knew, he was charging past me headed back up. The scent hit me 30 seconds later, down on the second floor. I’m a little embarrassed at my reaction, that’s for sure.” He sighed. “Vanessa’s gonna be pissed.”

“Bring flowers home,” Ilya said. “Ah, maybe text first, to explain the scent, on your clothes. Let her know she can call me to confirm.” He shrugged. “Your wife loves you.”

Vic nodded. “Thank fuck for that.”

“Okay, new plan,” Ilya said, clapping his hands together. “Hammy and Sebbin are on their way. Hammy stays out here to guard you lot, put Sebbin on the second floor landing. You all stay here, I’m going up.” He reached for the front door.

“No!” all three men shouted at once.

Ilya sighed. “Yes, boys?”

“That kid is terrified and horny on an unprecedented level,” Marly said. “You won’t be able to handle it.”

“I am the boss,” Ilya growled. “You question me? Hmm? Any of you want to challenge my position? Because I can take you all down right here on the sidewalk and still keep my shit together enough to deal with one little omega.”

The others mumbled their apologies, looking away.

Ilya took a deep breath, and went inside.

Three young women huddled together in the lobby, near a large potted fern. Secretaries, kind but boring betas who kept secrets and were good at their jobs in the first floor business, a legitimate real estate agency which dealt mostly with vacation rentals. One of them waved hesitantly.

“Ladies,” Ilya said with a nod. He headed for the stairs.

The scent hit him in the face like a brick, four steps up. Spun sugar thickened the air. It settled into his skin, weighed down his legs. Ilya snarled, realized it was happening, and forced his face back into stillness. He pressed on, one foot after another, until he reached the landing at the second floor. He unlocked the big tinted window there, rolling the squeaky metal handle until it opened as far as it would go. Leaning over, he took a big breath of clean air into his lungs, waiting until his head cleared.

They had been right about the omega. And more, something none of them said, but Ilya had experienced once before as a teenager: this wasn’t just an omega going into heat. There was no trace of fruit or spices or anything else that would develop in the kid’s scent as he settled. This was the pure sweetness of a frightened omega presenting for the very first time.

No wonder it’s knocking everyone on their asses, Ilya thought. But it also didn’t make sense. The kid they pulled in was 23. Most omegas presented as teenagers, safely at home with their families where they could be kept isolated from the rest of the world while their bodies underwent the change. Maybe, maybe, an omega might present at 17 or 18 but it was rare. Medically, there was no possible way a man in his twenties could be in Ilya’s office right now.

Which meant, and oh fuck was this an even worse problem to have: whoever Ryan and Connors grabbed off the BC campus this morning, it couldn’t be Sean Holloway.

Right then, just when Ilya thought he’d figured out how pear-shaped his morning was going to go, the sugar sweetness moved over his skin, slipped into his pants, swelling his dick like he was a fucking teenager going into rut for the first time. The alpha in him groaned as all of his blood rushed south. His nostrils flared and he gasped, sucking in as much of the omega’s scent as he could. He wanted the boy, needed the boy, had to get up to the third floor and into his office before anyone else could lay their hands on this omega, his omega –

Fuck! Ilya squeezed his hands into fists to feel the pain of his nails digging into the soft flesh of his palms. No. He was not doing this. There was no universe in which Ilya Rozanov was going to force himself on a helpless little omega too heat-drunk to understand what was happening to his body. He put his head out the window again, letting the fresh air settle his desires. He was still painfully hard, but he focused on the pain instead of the way the fabric of his boxer briefs slid across the head of his cock as he climbed to where Hayden Pike was waiting on the third floor.

“You sure about this?” Pike asked as Ilya made it to the door.

The scent was so strong here it felt like Ilya was walking through a cloud of aerosolized candy. It felt sticky on his skin, in his hair. Ilya could feel the warm flush on the tops of his ears, across his cheeks. He blinked a few times, letting the beta’s words sink in. “Yes, fine,” he growled back.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem like Pike was affected at all, thanks to his scent-blind beta nose. “So… there’s no easy way to say this,” the man said nervously. “The guys totally fucked up.” He handed over a plain black wallet.

Ilya opened it, found the Boston College ID card and pulled it out. A handsome Asian boy looked back at him. He had short black hair, warm golden skin, and dark eyes. There was a shadow stretched across his cheeks, something Ilya couldn’t quite make out in the tiny picture. Shane Hollander, the card read. Sophmore.

“How the hell do they make this mistake?” Ilya half-shouted. He snarled again, fought against it, got his face under control. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Pike agreed. “Fuck.”

The second floor was offices and meeting spaces, a tech space, a file room – nothing personal or incriminating. The third floor was Ilya’s personal office, and beyond that, the small apartment he kept here for nights he was too tired to drive home. It wasn’t the best choice for a new omega riding out their first heat, but it had a bed and a bathroom so they could make it work.

“He has phone?” Ilya asked. Pike nodded, pulled it from his pocket and held it up but didn’t hand it over. Both men knew that of the two of them, Pike was the tech guy. “Run him. Find his family, partner, whatever. Don’t reach out yet, but we need to know if anyone’s going to miss him while he rides out his heat.”

Pike whistled. “We’re keeping him?”

Ilya shrugged, trying to look less invested than he actually was. “For now. Jackie did heat cycles in class, right?”

“Yeah, this year, in her rotation at the hospital. It’s not her specialty but I know she’s at least done one course. You want her here?”

“Yes, please,” Ilya said, his shoulders relaxing an inch. “Fast as you can. If she has to miss school I will make it up to her.”

Pike grinned, reaching a hand up to grasp Ilya’s bicep. “Boss, you always do. You know she'd do anything for you.”

“Thank you. No one else in, okay?”

Pike nodded, already dialing his phone.

Ilya took one more deep breath, then opened the door to his office.

The sugar smelled warmer here, buttery, as if it were caramelizing. Ilya couldn’t smell his own tobacco and pine scent over the intrusive omega scent that filled all of his senses. His heart rate shot up again – he needed, desperately, to get to the boy on the couch. He forced himself to look at Connors instead.

“I’m so sorry, boss,” Connors rushed to say, but Ilya held up a hand to cut him off.

“Not now,” he grunted out. He fished out his keys and tossed them over. “Take mine, out front. Hammy helps. Bottled water, electrolytes, fruit, chocolates.” It was a struggled to make English words happen, any words that were not yes little omega and alpha is here and come for me. “Bring to office. No alphas inside.” He was panting now. “Find, uh…” Fuck. “Air, fans. Cleaning.”

“Air purifiers?” Connors asked.

Ilya nodded. “Now. Go now!”

Connors ran out the door.

Finally, Ilya’s alpha thought. Settle our omega. He’s so scared.

Not our omega, Ilya thought back, but the rational part of the voice in his head felt very small.

Ilya turned, holding up both hands and forcing a smile onto his face. “Shane?” he asked softly. “I am here to help you.”

On the other side of the office, the boy from the college ID was pressed into one corner of Ilya’s long leather couch. His hands were tied in front of him, and he had tape over his mouth. Ilya could see that he had sweated through his plain white tee; his hair was plastered to his forehead. His dark brown eyes were wide with fear.

“Is okay. I am Ilya.” He moved closer. “I take tape off, okay? Is big mistake.” He reached forward, as slowly as he could, the alpha in his chest growling possessively the entire time. “Okay I touch you?”

Shane nodded frantically.

Ilya carefully peeled the tape from Shane’s face.

“Fuck you, asshole!” the boy yelled.

Ilya chuckled. “So brave. You are doing so well. I untie you now, yes?”

“You fucking better,” Shane choked out, but his eyes were wet with unshed tears. His bravado crumbled as Ilya sat next to him on the couch. “What the fuck is happening to me?”

“I am sorry, Shane, but you are presenting now. Understand, yes? How old?” Ilya rested his palms on Shane’s forearms, feeling the boy’s hot skin. The stress of keeping half of himself at bay was stripping the English from Ilya’s mouth, forcing him into broken sentences, the way he spoke when he first came to America. He rubbed Shane’s arms, not yet moving to untie him. The boy didn’t seem to mind, more focused on Ilya’s mouth than the black and yellow bungie cords wrapped around his wrists.

“Nineteen,” Shane said, breathing harder. Some part of him finding Ilya’s scent in the room. “I need…” He leaned closer, probably unconsciously. His new omega craved something Shane didn’t yet understand.

“I know, omega. Pretty omega.” Ilya smiled. The soft words and low tone in his voice meant to reassure the animal part of this boy that was surging to the surface. Whoever Shane was most days, that’s not who he was right this moment, so Ilya had to speak to that animal instead. “I help you.” He grabbed Shane’s waist slowly, pulling the boy onto his lap in one quick movement. “Neck,” he said, baring his in front of Shane’s face. “Breathe me now.”

The boy took a deep breath, smelling the pheromones Ilya was releasing just for him: calming scents of spice and dark honey. “Alpha,” he whined.

“Yes omega, alpha is here,” Ilya promised, his voice low. “Shane, you are having heat now. First heat, I am sorry. I bring nurse to help you soon, okay?”

Shane pressed his nose to Ilya’s neck, scenting him deeply. “Need you, alpha,” he begged quietly, his lips curled into a snarl. “Please help me.” He sounded angry about his own need.

Ilya’s arms wrapped around the boy, holding him close. Shane’s tied wrists against his chest, trapped between them. “Will get you help, pretty boy. Shane, you have partner at home?”

Shane shook his head, still pressed against Ilya’s scent gland. “So lonely, alpha, help me,” he begged.

The small rational part of Ilya’s brain shoved back against his own animal need, ready to carry the boy into his bedroom and strip him bare. He wanted to kiss every inch of Shane’s skin, to lick fat stripes up the boy’s cock, to find the sugary slick dripping from his needy hole and drink it up. Ilya was desperately hard, pre-come making his underwear wet. He wanted to bite the boy in his lap, claim him, keep him…

And he knew Shane couldn’t possibly consent to any of it under the circumstances. The part of Ilya’s brain that was still a man refused to take advantage of him when he was like this.

“Sweetheart, look at me?” The boy looked up, his pupils blown wide so that brown eyes almost completely black. Ilya gently wiped away his tears with one thumb. He has freckles, Ilya thought. He has freckles and I will marry him. But what he said was, “Do you like men or women, Shane?”

Shane whimpered, pushing past Ilya’s hand to shove his face back into Ilya’s neck.

“Pretty boy,” Ilya whispered, letting his hand stroke the back of Shane’s head. “I like men, okay? Women too. Not judging. What do you need?”

“You, alpha,” Shane whispered. “I need you.”

“Yes, Shane. Okay. I am here.” He tried it a different way. “I find alpha for you. Boy alpha or girl alpha?”

“I think I’m gay,” Shane mumbled. “I mean. I am, I am gay. I haven’t told anyone that before… not anyone I wanted. A few friends. Not my parents yet. I’m not sure, I can’t think straight. I’m sorry.”

Ilya leaned back, lifting Shane’s chin with one hand so he could look into those eyes again. Shane whined, wriggling on Ilya’s lap, his thick ass grinding against Ilya’s hard cock. Ilya groaned, but kept his focus. “Why sorry?”

“You… fuck. You smell so fucking good,” Shane said. “You smell… experienced.”

Ah. “Are you not, uh, experienced my pretty boy?”

Shane shook his head. “I can’t wait any more,” he said, his thick thighs pressing into either side of Ilya’s legs, “please, please, I need you.” His head went back as he bared his throat, a silent request Ilya could not let himself answer.

Ilya tensed, pressing his fingers into Shane hips so hard the boy would have bruises tomorrow. “Oh my Shane,” he sighed. He could feel the heat between Shane’s legs, feel his own hips bucking up despite his best intentions. “Let me help you.”

“Yes, yes, thank you alpha, thank you,” Shane said happily.

“You do what I say, yes Shane?”

Shane nodded. “Anything.”

“Okay, I help you take edge off first. I will not touch you. You stay here, you take my scent, and you touch yourself until you come for me, yes?”

Shane’s face crumbled. “But I need you to fuck me,” he whined. “I feel so empty.”

Ilya’s hands moved up to Shane’s wrists now. He brought them up to his face, kissed Shane’s hands gently. “I know. This first, then shower and get into my bed, okay?”

He was stalling until Jackie could get there, the only way the boy’s omega would accept. Ilya unwrapped the bungie cords, carefully checking for damage. There were red marks on Shane’s wrists but nothing that wouldn’t fade in a day or so. Ilya kissed them both, one and then the other, before gently pushing Shane off of his lap. The boy whined, low in his throat, as he stood on shaking legs but Ilya quickly turned him around and pulled him back in, so Shane was sitting on him again, this time with his back to Ilya’s chest. “There,” Ilya growled into Shane’s ear. “Now you show off for me.”

Shane arched his back, rubbing his shoulder blades across Ilya’s chest, his head dropping back onto Ilya’s shoulder. His hands drifted over the sides of Ilya’s thighs before grabbing him tight enough to bruise the skin on Ilya’s legs. “Touch me,” Shane begged.

“Not yet,” Ilya whispered into Shane’s ear, talking to himself as much as he was soothing the boy. “First you make yourself come for me.”

“I need you,” Shane whined again. “Fuck, why do I need you? I don’t know you. Please don’t go.”

“I am here,” Ilya promised. His own hands trembled with suppressed desire. He wrapped one of his muscular arms around Shane’s chest, holding him in place. With his other hand, he found Shane’s hip and pressed his fingers in, gripping hard. “Get your dick out for me,” Ilya growled.

Shane didn’t argue. He unzipped his jeans with his left hand, slid the front of his boxers down just enough to release himself with his other hand. His heavy cock sprung free, already red and leaking.

Ilya, looking over Shane’s shoulder, moaned at the sight of it. “Perfect omega,” he said, his voice low, “so beautiful. Give me hand, Shane.”

The boy twisted to look back at Ilya as he raised his hand to Ilya’s face, his hips dragging against Ilya’s erection as he turned, which pulled another moan from Ilya’s lips. The last few shreds of Ilya’s composure were being ripped from him one at a time: taken by the heavy scent of a new omega in heat, by the boy’s gorgeous body, by the way he submitted so perfectly to Ilya’s commands. His alpha was screaming inside of his chest now, begging Ilya to fuck him, bite that perfect neck Shane had already offered. Claim him. Mate him.

Ilya Rozanov was 27 years old and had never once wanted a mate. He had maybe ten more minutes before he crumbled completely.

He spit into Shane’s hand.

Shane smeared Ilya’s saliva over the head of his own cock, groaning loudly as he did. “I don’t even like you,” he whispered as he stroked himself.

“I know, sweetheart,” Ilya said, lowering his head so he could rub his cheek against Shane’s ear. “Come for me.”

The boy’s hand sped up as he jerked it roughly over his cock, his moans mixed with quiet pleas for Ilya to touch him differently, to take him, to knot him. Ilya gritted his teeth together and held on as tightly as he dared, both locking Shane in place and holding himself back from doing any of the things Shane begged for. Ilya’s pants were wet with a mix of his own pre-come and the sugary slick dripping from Shane’s ass; he felt every time the boy pushed himself against the bulge of Ilya’s too-hard erection.

The boy’s words gave way to breathy moans then gasping screams as he arched his back against Ilya’s chest and came all over his own hand.

Ilya bit his bottom lip hard enough to bleed. The sudden pain and the taste of his own blood were the only things that kept him from coming when Shane did. “So good for me,” Ilya purred.

Shane collapsed as he came back to himself, catching his breath before he straightened up and grabbed tissues from the box on the little table next to the couch. Ilya let him go – the warm sugar smell fading to a manageable level as the boy’s omega was temporarily sated.

Shane cleaned himself off in a rush. He stood, facing away from Ilya as he fixed his pants.

Ilya tried, and failed, not to look at the boy’s perfect ass.

Shane turned around, his face hard, but his eyes went wide immediately. “Shit, I did that to you?”

“Yes,” Ilya said. He didn’t know if Shane meant the wet spot in Ilya’s lap or the obvious shape of Ilya’s thick cock straining against his zipper, but the answer was the same either way. “Is fine. I will handle.”

“So what happens now?” Shane crossed his arms in front of his chest. Maybe it was his height, or his broad shoulders, but he was built solidly enough that he could pass for an alpha if he wanted to. Ilya pictured the boy underneath him in bed, strong muscles moving underneath his hands as he explored every inch of Shane’s -

He shook his head, willing the picture out of his brain. “Now is small break. Heat will grow again, soon. You need shower now, food. Heat comes back, will be hard for you to do those things.”

“And what, you’re gonna help me with that?” Shane scoffed. “Your guys fucking kidnapped me. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Ilya admitted. “After heat is done, we talk.”

“So until then you’re just gonna, what, fuck me?” Shane’s cheeks turned pink, making his freckles stand out more, dark spots like stars against a private sky. “This isn’t a fucking date, dude.”

Shane look startled at the angry Russian that spilled out of Ilya’s mouth at that, and took a step backward. Ilya forced himself to calm, putting his hands up in a gesture meant to reassure the boy. “I am not going to fuck you,” he growled. His alpha hated the words, fighting him on every syllable. “Nurse is coming. She will stay with you. I will go.”

“You let me jerk off in your lap,” Shane said. His voice was less angry now, but still firm.

“Omega needed release. Yes, I let you.” Ilya tilted his head, trying to make Shane understand with his face alone. “I did not take advantage.”

“No, you didn’t.” Shane dropped into one of the chairs near Ilya’s desk. His scent was growing stronger again, but there was a bitter note to it now, as if sugar had gone past caramel and was burning in the pan. “You didn’t want me.”

“Sweetheart,” Ilya said, but stopped when he saw Shane’s jaw tighten at that. “Shane. Listen.” He leaned forward. “If you said you wanted, I would have.”

“I did say I wanted you, and you fucking didn’t.” Shane looked away then, biting his lip.

“Shane. Look at me.”

The boy shook his head.

“Look at me,” Ilya insisted. When he saw Shane’s face turn his way, he went on. “If you said you wanted before heat, we would already be in my bed. You have no idea what it takes to say no to you.”

Shane’s face did something Ilya couldn’t quite decipher, but the boy said, “Really?” and Ilya grinned.

“Really,” he said. “I am putting in huge effort. Very impressive.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Shane said with a laugh that made Ilya’s chest tighten.

He forced a smile onto his face but stayed seated on the couch. Standing, Ilya would have been a few inches taller than the other man, wider across the shoulders despite the fact that his suit jacket hid a narrower waist. Shane was built like a man training for a career in professional sports. Ilya was built like a man who survived off his weight routine, caffeine, vodka, and more cigarettes than he should probably allow himself. They were also, under the muscle and bone, alpha and omega. Most days that wouldn’t matter. Today, it did, so Ilya was keeping himself as small and non-threatening as possible, to keep this particular omega calm.

It wasn’t safe for Shane to go outside smelling the way he did, Ilya reasoned. And he owed the kid, what with accidentally arranging for him to be kidnapped and all. That’s the only reason this insane plan made any sense at all.

“Jackie Pike will be he soon,” Ilya said. “She is married, nursing student with education in... this.” He shrugged. “She will stay with you.”

“Right, ‘cause you don’t want to.” Shane shook his head. “Shit, sorry. I can’t seem to keep my brain, uh, straight. I know you aren’t… we aren’t, anything. But my head’s fuzzy.”

Ilya let himself take a deep breath. The sugar scent was thickening again. “Is heat. Will come in waves, next time is worse. I leave before then. You will have food, Jackie. You don’t do this alone.”

“Yeah,” Shane laughed, but it was quieter and sharper this time. Angrier. The sugar scent had a bitter note in it. “Is she gonna fuck me when I beg? ‘Cause I get the feeling there’s gonna be a lot of that.”

“No. She is professional. But she will keep you safe in the bedroom. My men will be outside, keep you safe that way.” When he saw the way Shane’s eyes flicked to the closed office door, he added, “Betas. They don’t smell you. Won’t uh, take advantage.”

“But you would, if you stayed?” Shane asked.

“Yes,” Ilya answered honestly. “First heat is too strong, I am sorry. Next time won’t be this.”

“Next time I’ll be far the fuck away from you,” Shane mumbled, looking down at the floor.

No! His alpha cried out, but “Yes,” Ilya said quietly instead. “Next time you choose.”

Before they could say anything else, there was a soft knock at the door. Shane jerked but didn’t leave the chair; Ilya rose slowly, moving to open it while making sure Shane didn’t feel threatened by his actions. 

“Hey boss man,” the small woman at the door said. “Hayd says you need my help.”

Ilya opened the door enough for her to get inside, then shut it behind her. “Thank you, Jackie. This is Shane.”

“Hi sweetheart,” Jackie said. She was almost a foot shorter than Ilya, with long brown hair and an easy smile. She walked over to Shane, crouched down in front of him, and said, “I need to ask you a few questions, okay?”

Ilya stayed where he was while Shane gave his name and some other info, including the fact that he had thought he was a beta up until that morning. Mercifully, he didn’t mention the kidnapping, just the part where he’d presented suddenly and been told he needed to stay there to ride it out. He looked at Jackie then, waiting for her to contradict him.

“I think that’s the best thing for you, Shane,” she told him. “You’re presenting awfully late for a first heat and the scent you're putting out took down some of the most stubborn alphas I’ve ever met. You’re very lucky Mr. Rozanov found you before someone else did.”

“Yeah, lucky,” Shane spat out. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel it coming back.”

“Okay sweetheart, just one more thing. I need to ask you something as a medical professional, so if you want Mr. Rozanov to step outside, I can make that happen.”

“Whatever,” Shane said. “It’s fine. He’s already seen my dick today so…” He shrugged.

“Did he now?” Jackie said, looking over her shoulder at Ilya, who raised his hands defensively.

“I did not…” He bit back what his alpha wanted to say, gritting his teeth against the beast beating at the inside of his skull. His nostrils flared, taking in too much of Shane’s thickening scent, unable to get the words out.

“He was a gentleman,” Shane said. “I begged for it like a fucking omega in heat, and we didn’t even kiss.”

It sounded like a slap, the way the boy said it. As if Ilya had failed him. As if Shane had failed himself.

Ilya took a step forward to take Shane in his arms, but Jackie was standing again, putting herself between them. “Hey, big guy,” she said softly. “You did your job. You did so good, keeping Shane safe.” She smelled like strawberries and pancakes. “You were the best alpha for him,” she continued, raising a hand to Ilya’s chest. “You helped so much.” She took a step forward then, gently pushing Ilya toward the door.

“I helped?” Ilya asked, taking a step back, his ass against the door.

Jackie reached around him, putting her hand on the doorknob. “You helped, Ilya. Do you want to help Shane some more?”

Ilya nodded quickly, his alpha pleased and proud.

“Shane needs you to go to the first floor and make sure no other alphas get in here,” Jackie said, her voice like silk. The scent of strawberries was crowding out Shane’s warm sugar, but Shane’s scent was still there in the background, a reminder that Ilya’s job was to provide for and protect his omega. “Shane, honey, tell this big alpha he can help you by going downstairs?”

Ilya looked over Jackie’s shoulder. Shane was flushed; his breathing was heavier than before, faster.

“Alpha,” Shane gritted out. “Need you…” He bit his lip.

Ilya pressed forward again, only half seeing the woman holding him back. “Omega,” he purred.

“Need you to go,” Shane said.

“To keep him safe,” Jackie added quickly.

Not a rejection then. A task. A tangible thing Ilya could do for this beautiful, trembling boy. For Shane.

“Anything he needs,” Ilya said, looking into Jackie’s eyes. “Anything.”

“Got ya, boss man. Go be a guard dog.” But she was smiling as she pulled the office door open and nudged him outside.

The door shut with a click behind him and Ilya was already moving to go back but Pike’s hand on his elbow and the other man’s, “Nope,” stopped him in time. They moved to the second floor for Ilya to change into a clean pair of sweatpants from the gear bag he happened to have dropped in the conference room the day before and had forgotten to put back in his car. By the time they got back to the first floor the travel ladies had been dismissed, and Hammersmith was setting up one of the new air purifiers. Connors nodded as he passed them on the stairs, carrying several heavy bags of supplies up.

“Got half a dozen of the best purifiers we could find,” Connors said, pausing for a moment on the steps. “We’ll get them set up.”

Ilya nodded.

“Kid doing okay?” Connors asked, his voice low. His face was pained. Guilty.

Good, Ilya thought, but what he said was, “Jackie is with him.”

Connors bit his lip. He went upstairs without saying anything else.

“We’ll set up a rotation,” Pike said, tapping Ilya’s shoulder to nudge him outside. “You should get some rest. Head home for a bit.”

No, we have to stay, Ilya’s alpha growled but down here where the air was clearer, the voice in Ilya’s head didn’t have the same power. He knew, under the other voice, that keeping his distance was the best way for Ilya to protect Shane now. “Call me when it’s over,” he said. “I work from home until then.”

Outside, he spotted Marly and Ryan waiting. They’d unloaded the boxes from Ilya’s car. “Vic went to apologize to Vanessa. You good?”

Ilya nodded, holding one hand up. Marly tossed him the keys to Ilya’s SUV. “You did good, boys,” he said, knowing they needed to hear it. “We’ll sort this out.”

He left them there, guarding the door to a nondescript building that held the most precious thing in Ilya’s life, at least until the omega’s scent had fully worn off. He knew in his gut Shane wasn’t his, would never be his, probably hated him for the way everything had gone down, but he still had to bite the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood to be able to get his key into the ignition and start his car.

He hit the speakerphone button on his steering wheel and directed the automated system to call Pike. “When your wife has everything she needs,” Ilya growled, speeding away from the curb, “somebody find Holloway and make sure you get it fucking right this time!”

Chapter End Notes

I wrote Mr. Answer Man - which turned into 162k words and then a series - to be a canon divergence. Mostly based on the original show/books, just more detail, more time spend on who they were, and the canon divergence went from there. But they're both still hockey players, a lot of canon stuff keeps happening to keep them on track.

I wrote The Dowry as a crack fic. Funny. Cute. Short. Turned that into a short series too because I had a few more ideas and people liked it. Canon-divergent, sure, but not an AU. Mostly the characters were who you expect them to be, just exaggerated for the funsies.

Then I started writing Rate of Exchange, which again, is a canon-divergence. A what if. And sure, it has Shane learning Russian and going to Russian to hate-fuck Ilya Rozanov in his own country which definitely didn't happen in the books or show, but you can see it right? It's just one or three steps to the left. It fits, sort of, into their world. Like the first two stories, they're still hockey players, still drafted by the Metros and the Raiders, still the same age with the same pressures and learning to love each other in secret.

Yuna Hollander, Terrifying Hockey Witch was something different. Still hockey players! But an AU now, a world where magic and soulmates exist.

And then Devil in Disguise. A sexy Eldritch Horror AU. At least Ilya is still a hockey player, at the college level, though he's pursuing a degree instead of going pro and Shane Hollander is... something else entirely.

Okay. That's a bit weird. But, we can work with that, right?

So tell me why I'm now writing an Alpha/Omega AU where Shane is a college hockey player and Ilya is an older man who doesn't play hockey but is in organized crime?

Right, the Hollanov fanfic pipeline strikes again. But don't save me, I'm right where I want to be. My ADHD brain LOVES to write multiple stories at once, at least until I get close to the end of one and get the impulse to focus on it to close it out. So I'm going to keep writing these stories on a rotating basis and post whichever chapter is done first that day. I hope that works for you too <3

If you're new to my work, you can find it all here

Chapter 2: On legs so shaky

Chapter Summary

Shane's heat progresses while Ilya keeps himself away for both their sakes. His crew does their jobs, Jackie Pike is a menace, and Ilya's inner alpha is just a big dumb puppy where Hollander is concerned.

It's barely been two days and Ilya is already fucked.

Chapter Notes

New tags added!

Hollander’s heat wasn’t going easy, according to Jackie Pike. Before the first 24 hours were up, she had Ilya calling in reinforcements, other omegas who could trade off with her to sit with Hollander while he went through what Jackie called a rough fucking time. She didn’t give too many specifics, maybe because she realized the thought of his omega no, Shane Hollander struggling made Ilya want to drop everything else and go back to his office apartment, to wrap the boy in his arms and kiss him sweetly while promising him the world. Suppressing those urges was hard enough when he was in his own apartment, during the day, with work to keep him busy. He needed to keep a safe distance between them.

Ilya had called St. Simon and asked him to ask his wife Vanessa if she could help out. Not only was she willing, but Vic texted a thank you after she arrived and saw proof of the situation with her own eyes – she’d trusted her husband when he’d explained about Hollander’s sudden heat happening in their office building, but it was always nice to know that trust was deserved. Then Ilya had called Ryan Price’s mate, Fabian, who also happened to be the only other gay male omega Ilya knew. Fabian was a sweetheart (though catty as fuck, which Ilya not so secretly loved) who canceled his performances for the rest of the week as soon as Ilya had explained what was needed. Fabian was a night owl too, which meant he could take the overnight shifts without it wrecking his sleep schedule. Ilya been a little nervous to send a man over when Hollander had so clearly expressed a desire to get someone’s cock into him, but Ryan and Fabian were as close to true mates as Ilya had ever seen. Hollander would be safe in Fabian’s hands.

But knowing another man was with his boy Hollander made the nights harder.

So here he was, two days into what was probably going to be a five day heat, waiting out the biological impulses of a stranger because Ilya needed wanted to know if the attraction he still felt was anymore more than pheromones and bad timing. He knew he wanted his pretty omega Hollander right now, wanted him so badly that his inner alpha had been reduced to a dumb fucking puppy that wanted to hump Hollander’s leg and beg for his attention like a treat he deserved for doing a good trick. He’d come home from the office the first day and fucked his own hand before he’d even made it out of his clothes, then showered and jerked off again in his bed, thinking about Hollander’s lips and ass and goddamn freckles and why was that the thing he couldn’t get out of his mind?

By the time his dick was plumping up for the third time, the sun was starting to set. Ilya had the foresight to fish a bottle of lube out of his night table drawer, thinking about slicking up Hollander’s thick thighs and fucking between them, Shane’s Hollander’s hands against the wall, his head falling back onto Ilya’s shoulder as Ilya growled in his ear.

He’d barely managed to get some food into his stomach and answer a few texts before it was starting again, the warmth growing in his hips as his thoughts turned back to the sweet boy kidnap victim college hockey player in his office. The way Hollander’s ass moved in Ilya’s lap as the boy chased his own release… the thick red cock between Hollander’s legs… the way he’d immediately done as Ilya asked and let him spit in his hand, then rubbed Ilya’s saliva over the throbbing head of his…

Fuck.

Somewhere around 3 AM, after the fourth orgasm, Ilya managed – on legs so shaky and fucked out he was like a baby deer slipping stumbling across an icy lake – to get himself to his laptop to research the effects of exposure to a new omega’s scent. Most of the articles suggested that only people who were highly bioligically compatible suffered any complications, with most people feeling better the minute they got away from the scent. Either that, or Ilya had a previous-undiscovered kink about forcing himself on a scent-drunk omega, and that was too disturbing to think about. Despite the number of romance novels that started exactly this way, Ilya Rozanov prided himself on being a consent king. He could have easily given in when Shane Hollander was begging so pretty asking for it like he was made to take Ilya’s cock out of his mind, but he hadn’t. He’d been a good alpha person and done only exactly as much as he had to until Jackie showed up to take over the situation. Then he’d gotten the fuck out of there, for Hollander’s own good.

Which made it more likely that they were biological mates, in the sense that they had a genetic compatibility that would make their inner animals want to carry on their bloodlines. Good for the preservation of the species, bad for Ilya fucking Rozanov, boss of a growing criminal empire and not at all someone who needed to fall in love with a college student who’d probably never even seen a crime before he was forcibly abducted by idiots. Lots of people had biological compatibility. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t a requirement, it was just a place to start. Knowing that didn’t help Ilya get any sleep that night, but at least he understood what was happening to his body.

He laid there, staring up at the ceiling, sheets kicked down to his thighs, hoping that between rounds of his heat someone was explaining to Shane what was happening to his body. Ilya hoped that someone was holding Shane’s hand, feeding him bites of fruit and chocolate, brushing the hair from his forehead, telling him he was doing such a good job and this would all be over soon. He’d given the boy a safe space and people he could trust; that had to be enough.

Ilya was still lying in his bed alone, wishing he was the one holding Shane as he went through the hardest thing his body had ever done to him, when the sun rose the next morning.

The second day was a little better. He didn’t trust himself to leave his penthouse, afraid that the minute he got into one of his cars he’d end up parked out front of his office, but he could at least direct things from home. Connors sent word that afternoon that Holloway had been spooked by a rumor Ilya was looking for him, hiding out at a girlfriend’s place, but eventually left to buy cigarettes and the man from the corner store recognized him. By nightfall Ilya had a text on his phone confirming they had the right guy this time by sending a photo of Holloway tied to a chair, his drivers license next to his face.

Delivery confirmed, he’d texted Connors, who sent 👍 in return.

Fish acquired, he texted Marly right after he deleted the photo. Can you cook tonight? I’m not in the mood.

I make a tasty dish, Marly texted back. Will start cooking in 20. The usual kitchen?

Ilya sent back 🍳🔪 and closed his phone. Holloway wasn’t terribly important, in the bigger picture of his plans. He trusted Marleau to handle something as simple as keeping this particular drug dealer off the Boston College campus, and getting a little more info about his supply line. Ilya was tired, annoyed, and irritatingly horny, which didn’t make for a good interrogation. None of that was the real problem though.

No, the problem was Ilya’s idiot alpha. Every time he thought about Holloway, he thought about how Hollander was grabbed by mistake, which made him think about the boy being so stressed and scared that he unexpectedly presented. Everything Hollander was going through at that moment – everything he had to go through alone, without Ilya there to comfort him – started with Sean Holloway encroaching on Ilya’s territory. He could barely suppress the growl that formed low in his throat when he thought about it. In person, he was much more likely to overreact, to do something he’d regret, say more than he should. The animal part of his brain might be a big dumb puppy right now, but he was smart enough to stay far away from Holloway.

To stay away from Hollander too.

His ringing phone pulled him out of his thoughts. “Speak,” he ordered.

“Boss, got a weird piece of info outta the kid,” Marly said, sounding halfway between nervous and confused. “It might not be relevant, but, I thought I should bring it to you.”

“Okay? What is needing big introduction? Tell me.”

“Holloway was asking about Hollander. I think. I’m not 100% sure.”

Ilya frowned. “What words did he use?”

“He said he was willing to give up info on other groups working the campus in exchange for anything we knew about a kid that got lifted yesterday morning.”

“He says Hollander’s name?”

Marly sighed. “No, not until we agree, but he said it’d help him out if he could locate a missing hockey player. What are the odds, ya know?”

Ilya did know. There were 27 players on the team this year; their names and individual photos were on the Eagles Hockey web page. He’d spent more time than he should have searching for anything he could find about his gorgeous omega Hollander; there wasn’t much to find, but he’d stared at the tiny photo of Shane smiling in his white jersey, his fingers lingering on the screen.

He rolled his shoulders while he considered the angles. “Tell him we know nothing,” he said after a moment, “but hint we could be leveraged to find out more. Get what he knows and a way to contact him, say he will help us to help him. Then get Pike to double check no one has reached out.”

“Good thinking, boss. I’ll find out if he’s for sure talking about our boy and get with Hayd.” Marly hung up then, before Ilya could object to him calling Hollander ‘our boy’.

Mine, Ilya thought uselessly. Not ‘ours’.

Not that he wanted the boy like that, not intentionally. It was just biology, just the lingering effects of the boy’s scent, just the conversation with Marly that brought him to mind again. He told himself this over and over, as he stalked off to his shower to deal with his growing erection. It wasn’t anything more.

After, he sat on his couch with his laptop open in front of him, watching Pike explain over video what he’d learned about Hollander so far. “Not a lot to say, ‘cept he’s wicked fast on the ice. Moved up to first line center this year. Full course load, one roommate – another hockey player from Canada – oh, yeah, our boy’s Canadian,” Pike added, as if that wasn’t a relevant fucking piece of information. “Parents are still married, mom works at a bank and Dad’s in government. Treasury Board, whatever that means.”

“Means he is boring, just like son is probably boring. These things are genetic,” Ilya said dryly, as if he was bored himself. As if the thought of boring Shane Hollander wasn’t making him feel too many things already.

“He ain’t got a lot of people missing him,” Pike went on, flipping through a cheap spiral notebook until he found what he was looking for. “J.J., that’s the roommate, texted this morning when Shane didn’t get back to the apartment, but I told him Shane stayed over with Rose, and J.J. responded with a couple of eggplants and a winky face, hasn’t replied since. Rose, that’s… Rose Landry, she’s a student too, she texted this afternoon to say she covered with J.J. for him and said uh… Finally, you slut! I’ll need all the deets when you’re done dragging yourself out of the gutter, call me bitch! So, she seems fun.”

“Hollander is not with this Rose Landry, but he has partner somewhere?” Ilya bit his lip, waiting for the answer. Shane Hollander had told him, just two days ago, that he was not only gay but single. Maybe that was the heat talking, and a clear-headed Hollander would feel guilty for nearly cheating on his relationship when all of this was over…

Pike flipped through his notes. “Don’t think so, boss. I read back through their texts, it seems like she’s been on his ass to do something other than study and skate for months. She’s been hyping up her buddy Miles, they’re both in the drama program, but Shane’s been ignoring Miles’ texts. I don’t think there’s nothing there.”

“You cover his classes, job, team?”

“Yep and yep. No job right now, he was waiting tables at a diner near his apartment but got let go last month. J.J.’s texts say it wasn’t fair he was fired but also Shane’s doing too much and was falling asleep on his feet. Rose’s texts about it give me the idea the boss there was hoping to see more of Shane than he got, if you know what I mean, but she might not be reliable. Told his Coach he was out sick for a week, and got Carmichael to pick up his laptop and textbooks from his apartment. I’m trying to stay on top of his classes but he’s got two this week that I’m gonna be a little lost in.”

“You broke into Hollander’s apartment?” Ilya asked with a growl. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“Yeah, no,” Pike said, rolling his eyes so hard it was visible through the laptop screen. “Nobody broke nothing. He asked us to get his stuff. Well, asked Fabian, who got his keys and gave them to Jackie, who gave them to me and I got Carmy on it. He’s on scholarship, he’s worried about keeping up.”

That settled Ilya a bit, but the taste of bile was still in the back of his throat. Hollander had asked for help from someone else. Someone who wasn’t Ilya. “What’s his major?”

“Criminal and Social Justice,” Pike answered with a laugh. “Fabian says it’s ‘bout prison reform, making criminals get redeemed instead of just locked up. I was worried half a second but he got a ACAB sticker on his laptop so I think you still gotta chance with him.”

“Hmm. Bring tomorrow, I will look at homework.”

“You, boss? Did you even go to college?”

“Fuck you, Pike, I have education,” Ilya said, his nostrils flaring. Here was a chance to show off for his omega Hollander, to be helpful, and Hayden fucking Pike wasn’t going to mess that up for him. “Bring everything here tomorrow, noon.”

“His first class is at 8 AM.”

“What the fuck?” Ilya cried out. “This is madness. Who does class at 8 AM on Friday morning?”

“It gets better: the class is called Crime & Punishment.” Pike grinned at that, as if he thought he’d succeeded in changing Ilya’s mind.

“Ah this is easy,” Ilya replied smugly. He folded his arms across his chest, leaning back a little. “This is Dostoevsky, is fed to us like milk and bread we are given as babies. Is no problem.”

“Yeah, no, your fuck ass Russian upbringing ain’t gonna help as much as you think, but I applaud your confidence. Let’s see if it means you actually wake up before 8 AM.” Pike looked off screen then, a soft smile on his lips. “My queen,” he said, reaching out a hand as Jackie came into view. She folded herself into his side, sitting on the couch with her head on his shoulder. He leaned over, putting his head on hers, his sandy blond hair contrasting with her warm brown. They looked like two halves that had found each other again, settling their limbs around each other as if that was the only place they belonged.

Ilya had seen it a million times, with the Pikes, the St. Simon’s, with Price and Fabian, but this was the first time he felt the empty space next to him as an emptiness instead of a fact.

“Hello, beautiful Jackie,” Ilya said. He ran a hand through his curls. “Everything is, uh, okay?”

“Long day but yeah, Shane is doing good,” she said, turning to face the camera. “He’s a good one, Ilya. I like him for you.”

Ilya felt warmth spread across his cheeks, and looked away for a moment. “He is not… we are not anything,” he mumbled. “I owe debt. I pay debt. Is all.”

“Okay big guy,” she said gently, but when he looked up again he could see the wide smile on her face. “I guess you don’t need to know he was asking about you. I’m just gonna go clean up…”

“Wait!” Ilya shouted.

Both Pikes were grinning now.

“Yes, alpha?” Jackie said playfully. “You need something?”

“No,” Ilya lied. “Am just waiting for… report. For information. Is all.” He picked at the fabric of his joggers.

Jackie told him then how Hollander, in between bouts of his heat, in between the normal questions about random items in Ilya’s office or how Jackie’s nursing program was going this semester, he asked other questions too. Shyly, quietly, he’d asked how old Ilya was, if Ilya had siblings, or pets. What did Ilya read? he’d asked once, after he’d found the little bookshelf with well-worn paperbacks in Russian. “Oh and he’s starting to nest,” Jackie added, her voice syrupy smooth.

Ilya’s spine went rigid. “He brings you into nest?”

“No, not me,” Jackie said.

“Who?” Ilya asked, but the word came out strangled. He coughed and tried again. “Who?”

Jackie shrugged. “He won’t let anyone into it, actually. Kid growls if we even get close to your bed.”

Ilya’s dick got hard so fast he felt dizzy with it. “He makes nest of my bed?” he asked softly. One hand gripped the fabric of his pants so tight he might rip the fabric. Ask the question, his alpha begged. Ask it ask it ask it ask it -

Jackie nodded. “Yep,” she said slowly, pursing her lips. She tilted her head, looking at Ilya through the screen. “You doing okay there, big guy?”

Ilya swallowed hard. Ask her, his alpha demanded. ASK HER ASK HER ASK THE FUCKING QUESTION.

“You got something else you wanna know?” Her voice was soft and teasing.

She already fucking knows just ask you idiot.

“Does he, uh… does he need, for nest? We can buy blankets, pillows, does not matter,” he added with a shrug, as if he meant it.

Pike hid his face against his wife’s shoulder to hide his laughter, but Ilya could hear it through his computer anyway.

“No, I think he’s good,” Jackie said. She buffed her nails on her shirt, then held her hand out to inspect them, stretching out the moment. “He’s been nesting in your clothes.”

“My omega,” Ilya purred, the words slipping out before he could stop himself. He blinked quickly, realizing what he’d done. “Okay thank you Jackie Pike, good job, I go now goodbye,” he said in a rush as he slammed the laptop shut.

Oh, he was so fucked.

Chapter 3: Inside Thoughts Out Loud

Chapter Summary

“Good to know,” Shane said. “You’re all so nice,” he added suddenly. “I didn’t know criminals could be this nice.”

He slapped his hand over his mouth as soon as he understood what he’d said.

“Well, I’m a nursing student,” Jackie said slowly. “You and I go to the same college, remember?”

Shane nodded, his hand still pressed against his lips.

“I’m a musician,” Fabian said with a little wave. “Lounge singer when I’m not on tour, it’s a regular gig and it pays the bills while I write new music.”

“I’m in tech support,” Hayden said, typing away. He didn’t sound as convincing as the other two.

“For… criminals?” Shane asked carefully.

Hayden shrugged.

Chapter Notes

The last time his heat broke, Shane felt it slide off him like a dead layer of skin. He blinked as he opened his eyes, but the bright sunlight didn’t hurt the way it had before. His skin felt sore, his lips were chapped, and he suddenly desperately wanted a shower. Each time his heat had crested and faded so far, it was still there, like a predator waiting in the dark for a chance to pounce. This time, it was more like recovering from the flu – he knew he’d need another day before he was back to himself but this time he wanted to get up. Get out of bed. Brush his fucking teeth and get back to his real life.

“Back with us, honey?” a warm voice asked.

Shane looked up to see a small, lithe man with dark skin and gold painted around his eyes. His eyeshadow matched his earrings, and the faint blush of gold across his cheeks. “Fabian?” Shane asked, not completely sure he remembered the man correctly.

“That’s me, honey,” the man – Fabian – said with a smile. His lips were glossy and dark. He sat in the only chair in the bedroom, one leg crossed over the other, his soft hands clasped together in his lap. His nails were painted a deep wine purple that matched his loose, silky top.

For a moment Shane thought that’s what an omega is, and then, just as quickly, how the fuck am I supposed to be that? He pushed himself up off his bed. No, not his bed. Ilya’s bed. The bed belonging to the man who kidnapped him. Or, at least, ordered his kidnapping. Well… ordered the kidnapping of the person who wasn’t Shane, but they’d grabbed him instead. Was it still a crime if it was mistaken identity? Fuck, I really should know that, Shane thought. His professors would be disappointed if they could see him now.

He wondered what the guys on his team would think, once they heard about how he’d changed.

Shane knew he needed to focus on the this guy is a dangerous person who does crimes part because he’d just spent five days focusing on the staggering need for the hot Russian to come back and fill him up part. The details were a little fuzzy but he was pretty sure he’d spent most of that time begging Fabian or Jackie or the other woman (Vanessa, his brain helpfully supplied) to go get Ilya and bring him back. Just for a little bit, please, I promise, I’ll be so good, I need him, does he know I need him tell him I need him where is he please –

Blood rushed to Shane’s cheeks as he remembered.

“Oh, is it starting to come back to you?” Fabian said, his voice melodic and clearly amused. He had a way of crooning everything, as if all of his words were meant to be sung, like he was reading the liner notes on a vintage record. “Yeah, there it is,” he added when Shane blushed even harder.

“How much does, uh, anyone know?”

“Anyone, or Ilya specifically?” Fabian asked. He let the question hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “Your secret is safe with us girls, honey. But even if it got out, no one would blame you or judge you, okay? Your omega wants what it wants. That doesn’t mean you’re required to do anything about it.”

Shane sat all the way up. His shirt was stuck to him in places, pulling at his skin. He looked down to peel it off when he noticed none of what he was wearing actually belonged to him. “Where are my clothes?”

“Sweet Jackie washed them for you the first time you changed out of them, so they’d be ready for you. You’ve been wearing the boss’s clothes ever since.” Fabian smiled. “Look, I know you both imprinted on each other pretty hard and believe me we’re gonna tease him about that for as long as we can, but I need you to know that it’s not a bond unless you both decide it is, okay?” He leaned forward a little. “Right now it’s just scent attraction, you know? Just hormones and heat want. It takes two to decide to pursue anything else, and he’s gotta earn you over time. Nobody’s claiming anyone today.”

Shane nodded as if he understood more than he actually did. “And what if I don’t… you know… want?”

Fabian sat back and shrugged his beautiful shoulders. “Then you don’t. Ilya’s not some brainless knothead, and that’s not how he runs his pack. If you say no and he doesn’t respect that, he’s not just gonna lose you, he’s gonna piss a lotta people off, including my mate, and even Ilya knows better than to go against him.” The smaller man stared at Shane for a moment, looking for… something, Shane wasn’t sure what. When he spoke again, his voice was even gentler than before. “I get you don’t know us, honey, but from what you told me during your heat, you don’t just need an omega elder, you need a queer elder too. I’m happy to be that for you, if you let me.”

“Thank you,” Shane croaked out. He needed water, and food maybe. A new identity and a one-way ticket to a foreign country sounded good too.

“Okay,” Fabian said as he stood in one fluid movement, “let’s get you cleaned up, we’ll get Jackie back over here, and we can talk about what’s next.” He put his hand out.

Shane took it, letting himself be pulled up from the bed.

Fabian hummed, a small noise, as his eyebrows furrowed together. “That’s weird,” he said softly. “Do you mind if I take a little sniff?”

Shane nodded, taking a deep breath at the same time that Fabian leaned in. He smelled his own sweat and the faint hint of sickly sugar remaining from his heat. There was a deep berry smell like blackberry wine that had to be Fabian; it clung to the man’s sleek black hair and his skin. In the back of his brain he still smelled a little bit of Ilya’s campfire in the room, that comforting scent of pine, smoke, and cold air that made Shane think of the camping trips he took with his parents as a kid, if nostalgia could also make you want to get thoroughly fucked by a sexy, muscular Russian. But Shane’s own scent either hadn’t come in yet, or was so delicate it was overwhelmed by the others. Or maybe he just wasn’t good at discerning it yet.

He wondered for a second what he would smell like to other people, when his omega scent developed.

And then, immediately after, he wondered if Ilya would like the way he smelled.

“Can I take a look at your teeth again?” Fabian asked. He had both hands lightly perched on each of Shane’s shoulders.

Shane ran a tongue over his teeth before opening his mouth. The fangs that had dropped during his heat were still there. Not as long or as noticeable as an alpha’s, but obviously there.

“It’s weird, right?” Shane asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen an omega with fangs before.”

“Oh we have them,” Fabian said with a grin as he stepped back. “Mine drop during mating and go back, but ahh,” he said, the sound like a little moan, “my mate Ryan loves them. You’re lucky yours are out all the time. Like a little alpha mouth, very sexy.”

“I don’t feel sexy,” Shane mumbled. “I feel like a freak. I mean, I’m already…” He bit his lip, one of his fangs catching the skin. “You and Jackie, you’re like, real omegas,” he sighed. “I’m… this,” he said, waving up and down his body. “You know. Not a typical omega.”

“Shane, honey, honestly, do you want to look like me or Jackie?”

“No,” Shane said automatically. It was true, he’d never wanted to be small or delicate. Being Asian, or half-Asian anyway, already made him an anomaly in a sport where most players were big white alphas, or shorter but almost as strong white betas.

“Did you ever want to look like a typical omega? Did you ever even want to be an omega?”

He took a moment with that question, not because he didn’t know the answer, but because it deserved him to review the facts one more time, just to be sure. “No,” he admitted. “I wanted to be an alpha, when I was a pup. I grew up tall and I fell in love with a contact sport. Working out, playing rough. When I thought I was a beta that was great too. It wasn’t going to keep me from playing hockey, you know? And it meant I didn’t have to think about anything else. I never expected… this.”

Fabian smiled in a way that seemed reassuring. “Every body is different, Shane. There’s nothing wrong with you the way you are. You can’t change how tall how you are. You like working out? Great, keep doing that, it’s obviously working for you.” Fabian winked at him then, playful without anything behind it. Shane knew the man was mated and head over heels in love, from what he remembered of their late night conversations in between bouts of Shane’s heat.

And he isn’t your type, Shane’s omega reminded him. Your type is big strong men that can throw you around and pin you to the bed and -

Okay, that’s enough of that, he told himself.

“Honey, what are you really worried about?”

Shane took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m not saying that I even want a mate, okay?” Fabian nodded, then waited for Shane to continue. “But if I did, eventually, when I’ve retired from hockey or something, if I did…” He trailed off.

“If you did or did not ever want a mate, either one of those things is good, honey. Either way. You’re still a whole and valuable person whether or not you have a mate or pups or a hockey career, or anything else.” Fabian squeezed one of Shane’s biceps.

Shane bit back a laugh. The guy clearly meant what he was saying, even if Shane knew he was wrong. “Okay, so say I did, you know, want that. Anyone who wants an omega – fuck, a male omega – isn’t gonna want one who looks like a discount alpha, you know?”

Fabian’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Shane,” he said slowly. “Honey, do you know what you look like?”

“Yeah, I’m 6 inches and 50 pounds of muscle too much to be what guys who date omegas are gonna want.” He rolled his eyes, annoyed at himself for even caring about that. But he did, at least a little, and that caring felt like it came out of nowhere. Had he worried about finding a man before all of this? A little, sure, but that was more about the guys he met expecting him to be more aggressive, more dominant, the way he played on the ice, when what he really secretly wanted was someone who could fuck him into the mattress until he saw stars.

Not that he’d had it yet, but before he presented, alone in his room on campus, that’s what he imagined he’d find someday. “It doesn’t matter,” Shane added quickly. “Between school and hockey and everything else, I don’t have time to disappoint anyone new.”

Being an omega on top of the sexual preferences he’d only just started figuring out was going to make finding the right mate impossible. Fabian had to know that, Shane was sure. But the other man pressed his lips together in a way that made him look sad, patted Shane’s arm one more time, and said, “Let’s get you ready, okay?”

Shane took a last look at Ilya’s unkempt bed, messy and dirty now with the effect of Shane’s heat. It smelled like us, his omega thought fondly. Then he let Fabian lead him into the bathroom.

★⋅⋅⋅★

Two hours later, Shane was clean, dressed in his own clothes (plus a hoodie he’d stolen from Ilya’s dresser), trying to make himself as small as possible while he sat in a chair on one side of Ilya’s office. Jackie and Fabian had fussed over him together when Jackie arrived, checking his temperature and his teeth, making him drink yet another bottle of water while they quietly discussed his lack of scent while Jackie’s husband Hayden, a short beta with a thick Boston accent, sat on the couch working on a laptop. Hollander, he’d said when he shook Shane’s hand, but he said it without the r sound at the end. Hollandah. Shane shook his hand back and tried not to think about how Ilya’s accent was much better.

“Oh Ryan’s here,” Fabian said happily, looking at his phone. “He’s just waiting on Roz before he comes up.”

“Who’s Roz?” Shane asked.

The others looked at him in surprise. “That’s Ilya, honey,” Fabian said. “Ilya Rozanov.”

Shane shook his head. “I’m sorry. If I knew that, I forgot. Things are a little…” He waved his hand. “You know. Still.”

Jackie nodded. “Perfectly normal for a first heat, Shane. You’re doing great.”

“Right. So, why is Ryan waiting on…” Ilya, it’s Ilya, call him Ilya, Shane’s omega chanted happily, “Rozanov before he comes in here?”

“Just being polite,” Fabian said, but there was something careful about the way he said it. “My mate is a big man, a big alpha. Given, everything, he’s more comfortable waiting until the boss introduces you two.”

Shane wasn’t sure what everything meant but he really hoped it didn’t mean you know too much and we have to kill you now.

“Buddy, you got the wrong idea,” Hayden said, still looking at the laptop.

Oh, fuck, I said that out loud, Shane realized.

“Yeah, that one too,” Hayden replied.

“It’s gonna take you a day or two to get your mouth under control,” Jackie said, leaning over from her spot on the other end of the couch to put her hand on Shane’s leg. “Your omega has strong opinions this close to your heat, and sometimes it says the inside thoughts out loud. You’ll get used to it over time.”

“Does that happen to you too?” Shane asked. On purpose. With his mouth. The way it was supposed to work.

“Oh honey, we’ve got years of practice riding that dragon,” Fabian teased. “Outside of my nest, I’m a vault baby. Inside of it, well, I don’t have any secrets from Ryan anyway.”

“Good to know,” Shane said. “You’re all so nice,” he added suddenly. “I didn’t know criminals could be this nice.”

He slapped his hand over his mouth as soon as he understood what he’d said.

“Well, I’m a nursing student,” Jackie said slowly. “You and I go to the same college, remember?”

Shane nodded, his hand still pressed against his lips.

“I’m a musician,” Fabian said with a little wave. “Lounge singer when I’m not on tour, it’s a regular gig and it pays the bills while I write new music.”

“I’m in tech support,” Hayden said, typing away. He didn’t sound as convincing as the other two.

“For… criminals?” Shane asked carefully.

Hayden shrugged.

Shane heard footsteps just before the door opened. Ilya, no, Rozanov, stepped in first, his eyes searching the room until they found Shane. He seemed to relax a little in that moment. He stepped into the room, followed by one of the biggest men Shane had ever seen. The guy was even taller than Ilya, over 6’6” probably, and at least 250 pounds of muscle. He was wearing a plain grey suit and he had red hair tied back in a bun.

Fabian squeeled and hopped up into the man’s arms. “Baby!” Fabian said loudly.

The mountain of a man grinned shyly, holding Fabian to his chest with one arm as if the smaller man weighed nothing. “Missed you,” he said softly.

This was nice, Shane thought. Not at all jealous. Totally fine. He suddenly slapped his hand to his mouth again.

“Don’ worry,” Hayden said in his thick Boston drawl, “that one was’a inside thought.”

Rozanov raised one eyebrow, looking at Shane with naked curiosity.

“Sorry,” Shane mumbled. “Just having a little trouble.”

“You are okay though?” Rozanov asked, and fuck that accent and that deep rumbly voice were as perfect as Shane remembered. “No, uh, side effects?”

“Actually, Shane needs to see a doctor,” Jackie said before Shane could answer.

Rozanov crossed the room before Shane could process what was happening. The big alpha kneeled down in front of the chair; his scent was sharper than before. It felt… worried, maybe?

The thing about scents is that as a beta, Shane shouldn’t have noticed them. That’s what everyone said, that betas – about half the population – were nose blind. You didn’t pick up on people’s scents unless you were an alpha or an omega, just another quirk of their biology left over from the olden days. Shane always assumed that was an exaggeration, because for years he’d been able to pick things up here and there. A faint scent. Occasionally, he’d get enough of another person’s pheromones to know they were feeling something. Mostly guys on the ice getting pissed off because Shane stole the puck off their stick but you know, it was kind of useful. Since the whole omega thing it was much more intense. He’d picked up scents of worry and compassion in Jackie and Vanessa, curiosity from Fabian and something else that felt like how you might look at a child.

Shane knew the basics of dynamic biology from the same health classes every Canadian kid sat through. He knew scents were really just pheromones that your brain processed into impressions, which is why two different people could translate a scent two different ways, even though they’d mostly come to the same conclusions. Knowing the science behind it didn’t make it less weird, though.

“You are hurt, malysh?” Rozanov said softly. His hands hovered on either side of Shane’s legs, as if he were afraid to touch.

“No,” Shane said quickly, shaking his head. He needed the other man to stop worrying. “I’m fine,” he added.

Ilya was fucking gorgeous. He wore black slacks that hugged his thighs and a white button up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his thick forearms. His eyes were a deep sea-green that bordered on blue, and his soft brown curls made him look younger than he probably was. And the campfire scent from before was just as strong now. It was the best thing Shane had ever smelled.

“Why do you smell so good?” Shane thought.

Rozanov’s cheeks turned faintly pink while someone behind him coughed.

“Outside thought, buddy,” Hayden said from his spot on the couch.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Shane whispered.

After a moment, Jackie made a small noise in her throat. “Anyway… Shane needs to see a doctor to get a few things checked out, no big deal.”

“I can’t,” Shane said. He tore himself away from Rozanov’s face to look at Jackie. “The doctor on campus has to report anything to my team, and I’m not… I don’t want them…” He sighed. “I don’t want them to know yet.”

“I have doctor,” Rozanov said, as if it were simple. “You go to him, he does not tell your team. Problem solved.”

“Shane needs some specific tests,” Jackie warned. “Outside of a hospital, it might not be cheap.”

“What kind of tests?” Rozanov asked, his eyes never leaving Shane’s face.

“Private kind of tests,” Jackie said. That got the other man’s attention; Rozanov snapped his face toward her, his hands gripping the arms of Shane’s chair.

“Just… go ahead and tell him,” Shane mumbled.

“You know how every alpha and omega is on a spectrum, right?” Jackie started to say as if she were reciting from a class lecture, but Rozanov shook his head.

“What does this mean?” he asked. Which Shane appreciated, because he wasn’t sure where Jackie was going with this either.

“Okay, um, so a lot of people think of alpha/beta/omega as being three points on a triangle, right? You are one of those things and not the others, and everyone is exactly only one of those things.” Her small hands fluttered in the air as she talked. “But really there’s a whole range of gene expressions. In some cases, you get an alpha who’s built really small, for example, or maybe you get an omega with alpha fangs and no scent outside of his heat. And those are all totally healthy, normal things to be.”

Rozanov’s head pivoted as he looked between them as he tried to make sense of what she was saying. “What does that have to do with Shane?” he asked Jackie finally.

Jackie looked at Shane expectantly.

“For fucks sake, she’s talking about me,” Shane mumbled.

The Russian frowned. “You have fangs?” he asked. “Alpha fangs? Can I see?”

Shane rolled his eyes but the other man seemed serious, so he slowly opened his mouth. Rozanov said something in Russian, soft and low, that almost sounded pleased, even though Shane was sure that couldn’t be right. He snapped his mouth shut and looked away.

“Okay,” Rozanov said, still crouched in front of Shane although it must be murder on his thighs and then Shane was thinking about the man’s thighs again, and how they could hold him down on the bed and -

Nope, not thinking about that.

“So, he has fangs, so what? They are pretty. But he has scent too.”

“Seriously, dude?” Shane said bitterly. “Can you not make fun of me? This is hard enough. Just go, sit over there or something.”

Rozanov frowned again, but he did as Shane asked, standing slowly then walking to the other side of the room and sitting in his desk chair. Once the room and the desk were between them, he spoke again. “I am sorry Shane, but I was not joking. You do have a scent.”

That got the room talking again, as different voices talked over each other, mostly people confirming that to them, Shane smelled like nothing at all.

“What is it?” Shane asked quietly.

The others stopped talking.

Rozanov looked pink again, across his cheeks, but he sat stiffly upright. One hand moved idly across the top of his desk. “Is like, pryaniki,” he said after a moment. “Cookies from home. Or cake, I think is close to your gingerbread. Cake with spices.”

Shane lifted his wrist to his face and sniffed it. Now that Ilya described it, he could maybe detect a faint whiff of something like gingerbread.

“Okay, we’re gonna skip over that for now,” Jackie said. “Look I don’t think he’s in immediate danger or anything but if we were in the hospital and someone came in with an atypical presentation, we’d do some tests, just to get a sense of what we’re working with. There’s a few other things that make me think he should get checked out sooner than later, just to be safe.”

“But he does not need emergency doctor?” Rozanov asked.

“No,” Jackie said, biting her lip. “I don’t think so,” she added.

That sounds reassuring, Shane thought, then quickly looked around. No one else reacted to it, so he must not have said it out loud. Okay, I’m getting better at this.

“I will make arrangements,” Rozanov said.

“As fascinating as all this is, babes, I’ve got to get this one home before I turn into a pumpkin,” Fabian announced.

“Nice meeting you,” Ryan said with a small wave. He nodded to Rozanov, who nodded back. Then the big man carried Fabian out of the room, letting the office door shut behind him.

“He does know it’s only noon, right?” Shane asked.

“They’re on a night schedule,” Jackie said with a smile. “Ryan works the door at the club where Fabian sings. We should go some night, you’d like it.”

“This is done, boss,” Hayden said as he closed the laptop. He stood, crossing the room to set it on the desk in front of Rozanov. “And this,” he added, pulling a shiny new phone from his pocket. “I copied all the data over.”

“Thank you,” the Russian said. “Shane, this phone is for you.” He picked it up and held it out.

“What the fuck happened to my phone?” Shane asked.

“Ah, broken, sorry,” Rozanov said, not sounding sorry at all. “This is new, latest model, much better than the piece of shit you were carrying around. Pre-paid, of course.”

Shane walked over to the desk. The phone did look nice. “What about all of my contacts, pictures? You didn’t look at any of that, did you?”

“I saved the sim card for yah,” Hayden said. “Moved all your data, easy peasy, nothing to worry about.”

Rozanov made a face like see? and waved the phone at Shane like a dog treat. Shane snatched it out of the man’s hand, rolling his eyes. “What about my laptop?”

“Also broken,” Rozanov said, pointing at the newer computer Hayden had set on the desk. “Also much better now, you are welcome.”

“I’m not gonna thank you for breaking my shit, asshole,” Shane said, but he had to admit, the new laptop was much nicer than the one he’d had before.

“I also did your classes for you,” Rozanov said, as if it were nothing. As if he were giving directions to a lost tourist. “8 AM on a Friday morning is crazy time for lecture. You are a crazy person.”

“I have to schedule everything around games and practice,” Shane said. He made himself take a deep breath, then said, “Thanks, I guess.”

“Oh you guess?” Rozanov replied, sounding annoyed, but the corner of his mouth was curved upward in half a smile. “You could say thank you Ilya, you saved my grade point average Ilya, how can I ever repay you?”

“You fucking kidnapped me, dude,” Shane said, but he didn’t sound as angry about it as he’d planned.

“Ah, about that, was not kidnapping,” Rozanov said. “Was mistaken identity.”

“Right, you mistook me for the guy you meant to kidnap.”

“No, uh,” Rozanov trailed off. He snapped his fingers.

“Bachelor party prank gone wrong,” Hayden said.

“Yes, that. Very sorry, Scooby Doo hijinks, would have been very funny if you were right guy.” Rozanov shrugged.

“So you’re not a mob boss?” Shane asked slowly.

“Just regular business boss,” Rozanov said, looking sincere. “Everyday legitimate business man.”

“Legitimate businessman is a thing mob bosses say when they’re trying to pretend they aren’t criminals.” Shane looked around the room. He was fully dressed, supplied with expensive tech, in an office with a nurse, her computer guy mate, and one sharply-dressed alpha that smelled fucking delicious. It didn’t seem like any of them were going to kill him in the next few minutes… He put the phone in his pocket and tucked the laptop under his arm. “Okay,” he said, testing the theory, “I’m just gonna go then.”

“I put our numbers in ya phone,” Hayden said. “In case you need anything.”

“We are very sorry for the inconvenience,” Rozanov added. “I would like to personally make it up to you.”

“Right,” Shane said, slowly inching toward the door.

“Shane,” Rozanov said quietly, just as Shane was about to put his hand on the doorknob. The bigger man stood, then stepped closer.

Close enough that Shane could smell him, and god did he smell good.

“Outside thought, buddy,” Hayden said from the couch.

“Fuck,” Shane mumbled. “I gotta go.”

“Do you want me to give you a ride?” Rozanov said, his lips inches away from Shane’s ear.

“No, that’s okay, I’ll call an Uber,” Shane said. Or walk in front of a bus, he thought. Either one sounds good.

Rozanov smiled as he reached one hand out to softly brush against the sleeve of the hoodie Shane was wearing. The one he’d stolen from Ilya’s bedroom. “Call me,” he said, the Russian accent curling around the words.

Shane squeaked, hit the door as he jumped away from the other man’s hand. He fumbled for the doorknob and got it open. “Yep,” he said as he squeezed past, “see you.”

He could hear Rozanov’s soft laugh as he raced down the stairs.

Chapter End Notes

I added a few tags - please note that I tend to use the "additional tags to be added" tag on my work because I'm not always sure the best tags to accurately describe everything until I've written it, but I'll never bait and switch you. There's no MCD, no non-con, nothing major. It's always because I want to tag as clearly as possible so you can consent to what you're getting into before you get started. I have added a few new tags today, most notably the non-traditional a/b/o dynamic tag, because I realized that's how I wanted Shane's omega presentation to go. He's gonna be a rare bird, but luckily he'll be exactly what Ilya is looking for ;)

My real life has been a lot lately, but I'm trying to muscle through with the power of caffeine and positive thinking. If you wanted to tell me what you like about this story so far, I'd appreciate it.

Chapter 4: Stumbled Into Something

Chapter Summary

“I need to know what he is mixed up in,” Ilya said. “For me, I need to know.” I can’t pursue him until I know.

“I still hate it,” Jackie said. He better be worth it, was the part she didn’t say.

“I will wait outside in the car, the whole time,” Ilya promised. “Marly too. We will bring your idiot husband back to you.”

“Hey!” Hayden protested, but it was Jackie’s turn to pat him on the knee. 

“That’s all I ask,” Jackie said solemnly while Hayden muttered about no one understanding his genius.

Chapter Notes

Ilya shut the office door as Shane disappeared down the steps. Turning back to face the room, he leaned against his desk, his forearms tensing as he gripped the edge tightly.

“So we’re courting the boy?” Jackie asked playfully. “You sent Shane home with gifts, Ilya. And don’t think I didn’t notice the sweatshirt he wore outta here.”

Hayden spoke first. “It’s not all a’ that, babe.” He glanced over at Ilya then, who was chewing on his bottom lip. “Or, not only that.”

“Hollander is not just college student,” Ilya said carefully. “Someone is keeping eyes on him.”

Jackie’s smile dropped off of her face. “What can you tell me?” Because that was Jackie Pike: long-suffering wife of a Southie kid who’d tear the moon out of the sky for her, hardworking nursing student, Ilya’s closest friend, and unofficial queen of their pack. She knew where the lines were.

Ilya had come to Boston with nothing, and getting to where he had something – a life where he was a man others looked to with respect – had only happened because he met Marleau, then Price, then Jackie-not-yet-Pike. Marly brought in Vic, the foster brother Cliff had grown up with, and together they brought in Hammersmith, Sebbin, and Connors, more foster kids who’d cycled through the same house. Vic married Vanessa; Price mated Fabian. Over the years their pack grew and grew. Ilya’s business grew alongside it, from fists and entry-level deals to an enterprise strong enough other families knew the Rozanov name now. It wasn’t enough yet, but they were keeping the pack fed. The pups growing up sixteen streets over, in the same house where Marly and Vic skinned their knees and learned how to be gangly alpha teenagers, those pups were safer than the ones who came before. Mama Helen and Papa Joe had enough food in the fridge to feed everyone who came through their doors now, whether they were official foster placements or the neighbor’s pup staying over when his mother worked too late at her second job. The roof got replaced last year. The backyard had a new plastic play structure that wasn’t threatening to collapse every winter.

Ilya didn’t go inside that house. He waved from his car when he helped deliver groceries, but he wasn’t a part of their life. He had his pack, he was the boss, but Helen and Joe belonged to the boys they’d raised. Their warmth and laughter wasn’t for him. Marly watched Ilya keep himself apart and didn’t argue about it, but the offers to join them for the holidays still came every year.

Jackie was his, though. He’d stumbled out of a bar one night, straight into her arms. Ilya imagined what it must have looked like from her perspective: more than six feet of snarling alpha, knuckles cracked open and a bruise blooming on his face, bleeding from more than one place under his shirt. Jackie had been 17 then, a tiny omega barely half his weight, wearing a brand new dress she’d bought with her measley paycheck from her after-school job at a daycare. She’d looked at Ilya and seen a big puppy under all the blood, and hadn’t been even a little bit afraid. She dragged him to her aunt’s apartment and got him cleaned up, yelling at him all the while. The dress was ruined but Ilya would buy her a thousand dresses if it meant she kept yelling at him like she cared whether he lived or died. Jackie was the closest thing to a sister he’d ever had. When she met a geeky kid who’d hacked the city’s database to cite the shitty landlord who took Jackie’s rent without fixing the heat after her radiator rattled and died… She decided Hayden was going to be her mate without giving him a say in the matter, so Ilya accepted him into their pack too.

Protecting Jackie meant giving her just enough information so she wouldn’t be blindsided, but not enough to get her into trouble if this all went south someday. Ilya trusted her with his life, had let her patch him up a dozen times – and paid for her education when she decided running with this particular group of guys meant someone needed to know how to reset a dislocated shoulder or stitch up a “cooking accident” without anyone getting sepsis. But loving her meant keeping her apart from the nastier side of the business. The rule was the same for Fabian and Vanessa too.

So she knew not to ask for all of the details. Whatever Hayden whispered to her in the dark after a particularly bad night… Ilya knew it happened, but he didn’t ask about it. That was between mates. He mostly wasn’t jealous about what they had, had smiled and cheered for them at their wedding, had kissed Jackie on the cheek and snuck an envelop full of cash in Hayden’s jacket when he’d hugged them both goodbye at the end of the evening. What he felt when he was alone in the middle of the night was no one’s problem but his own. Jackie suspected, of course, but she didn’t ask either.

Some things, pack just knew.

“When he was here, going through it,” Ilya started, then paused to think about how he wanted to phrase what he was going to say next. “I will not lie. I wanted him here, okay? But also Marly heard Shane’s absence was… seen.” He looked at Hayden, tilting his head to silently give the other man permission.

“I did a deep dive on the kid but I couldn’t find nothing out a’ the ordinary,” Hayden told his wife. “But Hollander’s phone and laptop both had trackers. Old school, not logging keystrokes, but GPS. Someone wanted to know where he was.”

“That’s why the new stuff?” Jackie said, not really asking.

“Well and the boss did want his boy to have shiny trinkets,” Hayden said with a grin. “In my day we wooed a pretty omega with our words, but I guess you gotta make do with what you got,” he added.

Without looking at his desk, Ilya grabbed a mug from behind his back, throwing it at Hayden’s head. “Fuck you, Pike,” he said as the beta caught the mug out of the air. “I am charming in two languages.”

Hayen set the mug gently on a side table. “Is one of them English?” he teased, but Jackie nudged his shoulder so Hayden rolled his eyes but shut his mouth.

“I am keeping Shane safe,” Ilya said. “Is not his fault he has, ah, like baby deer on the ice? Stamped?”

“Stumbled,” Jackie offered.

“Yes, this, stumbled into something he should not be in.”

“Has he though?” Jackie asked. “It sounds like you don’t know enough to be sure.”

“You know who we need to ask,” Hayden said. “Same people who asked about him in the first place.”

Ilya growled softly. “Yes,” he said, his voice low. “But I can not ask this of you.”

“Who?” Jackie asked. She and Hayden shared a look, then her eyes went wide. “No, Hayd, you’re joking.”

“You know Roz goes in that place, he’s gonna need a blood transfusion before he finishes his first lager,” Hayden said. “Me and Kip ain’t close no more but we don’t got the same beef he does.”

“You want him to go back to the Gradys?” Jackie asked, looking at Ilya this time. Her scent sharpened with her distress, the soft smell of strawberries and bread souring into vinegar.

“Pops and George were always close,” Hayden said as he gently put one hand on his wife’s knee.

“They’re the reason your father was never there for you!”

“Babe, I’m pretty sure Souza’s the reason Pops wasn’t around.”

This wasn’t a new argument, so Ilya let them have it. He’d learned years ago that the Souza-Baranowski Correctional Center was the only maximum security prison in Massachusetts. He also knew the reason Pike’s father was buried in a state-owned plot in Gardner. The week before their wedding, Ilya and Connors drove a very drunk Hayden Pike all the way out there so the man could yell at his father’s grave. As far as he knew, Jackie never found out.

“You’re gonna what, walk into the Kingfisher and ask why they’re following a 19 year old criminal justice student from Canada?” Jackie was asking. “And they’re gonna say oh sure Hayd, great to see ya, here’s everything you wanna know?”

“I mean, it could happen,” Hayden said with a shrug. “Stranger things, babe.”

“I hate this,” Jackie replied. She leaned into Hayden; he put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight. “You’re not going in there alone.”

“Cross my heart,” Hayden told her, making the sign of an x against his chest.

“You’re awfully quiet about all this,” she said, staring at Ilya. She sniffed the air. “You smell like rain.”

“Thinking,” Ilya admitted. “Memories, mostly.”

“That kind of day?” she asked. They all knew what she meant.

He took a breath before answering, turning over the question in his head. “Not yet, but could be soon. We will see. I am taking my pills.”

She nodded. “Have either of you considered just asking Shane what this is about?”

“You spent the most time with him,” Ilya replied. “Did he seem like a person who runs in the same circles? With men like me?”

Jackie’s face softened. He shouldn’t have said that last part, he knew it, knew the way she would rise to his defense against even Ilya himself. It was selfish, but he wanted to hear it. “He’d be lucky to have a man like you,” she said.

There it was. Ilya smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes but he nodded once. Acknowledging the words he needed to hear.

“But no, he’s such a lamb,” Jackie went on. “Heat makes you babble, you know? There’s no defense when you’re like that. He’d have given me his social security number and his mother’s maiden name if I asked him. He said a lot of things but it was all so normal. I didn’t get the sense that Shane has ever broken a rule in his life.”

That fit neatly with what Hayden had showed him the other day: Shane’s perfectly average childhood in suburban Ottawa, told through social media. Middle aged parents, no siblings, hockey camps and high school parties, spread out over a dozen accounts. A picture of toddler Shane on his mother’s Facebook page, holding a stick just a little too big for him, standing next to his Asian mother. They had the same dark eyes and straight black hair. His father’s account, with a more recent profile picture of a grey haired man whose features were obscured by a fluffy white dog licking his face, shared photos from Shane’s tournaments. His Haitian roommate posting a photo of freshman year Shane eating a steaming bowl of bouyon while buried under a pile of blankets, captioned fighting the sick so we can kick Northeastern’s asses on Saturday!

A photo Rose posted a few months ago, her and Shane sharing an order of fries in some dimly lit restaurant. Shane was smiling so wide there, snuggled up with a small red-haired woman who looked like she could be a model maybe. Or an actress. Shane, smiling, like he didn’t have a problem in the world. The light from somewhere off screen illuminating his freckles more clearly than in any of the other pictures Hayden had found. Ilya had spent more time than he cared to admit zoomed in on the picture, which he’d saved to his phone, running his thumb across Shane’s cheeks.

“I need to know what he is mixed up in,” Ilya said. “For me, I need to know.” I can’t pursue him until I know.

“I still hate it,” Jackie said. He better be worth it, was the part she didn’t say.

“I will wait outside in the car, the whole time,” Ilya promised. “Marly too. We will bring your idiot husband back to you.”

“Hey!” Hayden protested, but it was Jackie’s turn to pat him on the knee.

“That’s all I ask,” Jackie said solemnly while Hayden muttered about no one understanding his genius. “Well if that’s settled, I’m going to take my man home with me.”

Hayden started to object but Jackie whispered something in his ear and Hayden’s face flushed. “Uh, sorry man, I gotta go.”

Ilya raised both hands. “I know who the real boss is,” he said, winking at Jackie.

When they were gone, he settled into the warm spot on the couch, turning himself to sit in the corner with his legs stretched out in front of him. Like this, he could see the door that led to the bedroom and bathroom. He made himself answer his texts first: making plans to meet Marly that evening, reminding Price to get to the club early for a liquor delivery one day earlier than usual, sending the other men updates about where they needed to be over the next week.

He chewed on his lip as he typed out the mix of code words and emoji they used for some of those conversations. They’d talked about plausible deniability in Shane’s Friday morning class, but Ilya had known what that meant long before he had the English words to describe it. You couldn’t be trapped by what you never said.

There were a lot of things he hadn’t said, to the too-young omega who ran away the first chance he got. Ilya wondered if he’d get another chance in the future.

The door tempted him.

The boy tempted him.

The boy wasn’t here, but the door was. On the other side was Ilya’s bedroom. His bed, where Shane had spent five days writhing with biological need, sweating out his heat. Filling the room and impregnating the fabrics with his new omega scent, sugar blossoming into spice cake. Even with air filters, even if they’d washed the sheets, that scent would live in the room for days. It would be there, in Ilya’s pillows. In his mattress. In the curtains that blacked out the one small window at the top of the wall.

He could walk into that room right now and take what Shane hadn’t given him. He could, if he wanted, go into his bedroom and lose himself in the scent. No one needed him until nightfall. He had a whole afternoon to pretend that his fingers were Shane’s, gliding over Ilya’s skin. He could lie to himself, imagining Shane wanted his scent in Ilya’s nose. It was terrible and wrong and unfair to a boy who didn’t ask to be kept in that room while his body changed. Ilya needed it like he needed to breathe.

I am stronger than this, he told himself. I never wanted to feel this. I do not even know him.

The memory of Shane’s voice was louder, begging in his ear. “I need you,” he’d said. “Please don’t go.”

It means nothing, Ilya reminded himself. He would have said that to anyone at that moment.

But Shane had curved his back to press against Ilya’s chest, grinding his ass against Ilya’s hips. Had begged and whined, on this very couch, not even a week ago. Stroked his beautiful cock until he came in his own hand, begging Ilya’s alpha to knot him instead.

Shane, who blushed before he left the office today, wearing Ilya’s clothes.

Running home, wearing Ilya’s scent.

He stood and walked toward the bedroom door.

Chapter End Notes

I'm not gonna lie, I don't usually like Hayden, but Southie Hayden is growing on me ;)

Next time: Hayden talks to the Irish. Ilya has a conversation with the person he likes the least. Shane struggles with what to tell his friends, and sees a doctor about his new designation.

Chapter 5: Like a Secret Identity

Chapter Summary

“Pine, not juniper,” Shane said. “He smells like a campfire.” I love the way he smells was the part he didn’t say out loud.

“Who does, buddy?” Wyatt patted Shane’s arm. “You can tell us what happened.”

“It’s not what you think,” Shane repeated quietly. “Can we… can we sit down?”

They took seats around the table, but JJ kept one hand on Shane’s arm. “Talk to us.” 

Shane stared at the surface of the faded yellow linoleum. The table had been in the apartment when they moved in, left over from the previous tenants, but Shane loved it. It reminded him of a diner in Ottawa he used to go to with his parents, when he was a kid. He let the fingers of his free hand trace the mid-century patterns idly. “I wasn’t really sick,” he said. “I had to stay away for a few days for a medical reason.”

Chapter Notes

Shane was back on campus before he realized he’d left his textbooks in Rozanov’s office. He sighed and put the thought out of his head for now; he had too much to catch up on. The new phone did seem to have everything transferred over, even his text messages threads, so he could see where someone – probably Jackie’s husband – had pretended to be Shane just enough to clear his schedule. He texted Rose to say hey sorry I was down with a cold but I’m better now and to let JJ know I’m almost back to the apartment, I miss anything big?

Rose, of course, replied immediately: so you weren’t getting dicked down? booo! let’s get drinks and catch up!

He mentally put a pin in that for now. Rose was a beta, so she couldn’t help with the sudden omega of it all, but she was also his most enthusiastic supporter. If anyone was going to take his new designation in stride it would probably be her. He didn’t know how JJ or the rest of the team would feel. He paused for a moment with his keys in his hand. There was nothing keeping an omega from playing hockey, not at Boston College or even in the MLH, if Shane did somehow end up going pro. There weren’t any on Shane’s team, but that was mainly because men who presented as omegas wanted softer lives. They wanted to marry well and have healthy children, which was hard to do when you were getting knocked around by full grown men on a regular basis. The omegas who went pro weren’t nearly as common as the alphas and betas, but there were a few that did will in the AHL, mostly goalies. He thought for a moment about which ones he remembered… there was a guy from Nebraska whose name he was blanking on, and a kid who just got drafted to Tampa… They were both smaller, built more like a beta. Smaller than Shane, for sure.

They were both, if he remembered correctly, married to women.

Shane shook his head and opened the door to his apartment. The smell of warm food hit him right away; JJ was in their tiny kitchen cooking something.

“Mon ami perdu de vue depuis si longtemps!” JJ called out. My long lost friend.

“En phase de rétablissement, pas perdu,” Shane called back with a laugh. Recovering, not lost. Though, Shane could only admit to himself, he still felt unsteady, even since he left his alpha Ilya Rozanov behind.

“None of this Frenchie bullshit,” Wyatt called from the living room. The goalie was spread out on the couch with a brightly-colored comic book on his chest. His short brown hair was doing the slightly wavy thing it did after he got out of the showers, half-formed curls lying against his forehead.

Our alpha’s curls are better. “Sorry man, didn’t see you there,” Shane said as he kicked off his shoes. He set his laptop on the tiny kitchen table.

JJ stepped away from the stove to pull Shane into a one-armed hug. The other man was taller than Shane, with warm brown skin and close cropped black hair. “Glad you are feeling -” he said with his perpetual toothy grin, then paused.

Oh fuck he knows, Shane thought.

“What do I know?” JJ asked. He leaned back, searching Shane’s face. “Why do you smell like alpha?”

Outside thought, Shane could practically hear in Hayden’s voice. He choked back the laughter threatening to bubble up.

“Oh shit, did Hollzy get lucky?” Wyatt said with a laugh. “Good job, buddy.”

Shane turned his face away as tears welled up in his eyes.

“Shane, mon ami, look at me,” JJ insisted. “Who’s sweatshirt is this? Did he hurt you?”

Wyatt must have heard something in their friend’s tone, because he stood up from the couch and walked over to where they were standing. “You okay?” he asked carefully. “Did, uh, something happen?”

Something bad, Shane realized. That’s what he’s asking.

“He didn’t,” Shane tried to say, but the words caught in his throat. “It’s not what you think.”

“You come home smelling like that and you can’t look at us,” JJ said softly. “Dis-moi qui assassiner,” he added, a low growl creeping into his voice. Tell me who to kill. The arm he had around Shane’s shoulders tightened.

“Help out a poor beta,” Wyatt said. “What does whoever it is smell like?”

“Like alpha,” JJ said harshly. “Smoke and gin. Not a nice smell.”

“Pine, not juniper,” Shane said. “He smells like a campfire.” I love the way he smells was the part he didn’t say out loud.

“Who does, buddy?” Wyatt patted Shane’s arm. “You can tell us what happened.”

“It’s not what you think,” Shane repeated quietly. “Can we… can we sit down?”

They took seats around the table, but JJ kept one hand on Shane’s arm. “Talk to us.”

Shane stared at the surface of the faded yellow linoleum. The table had been in the apartment when they moved in, left over from the previous tenants, but Shane loved it. It reminded him of a diner in Ottawa he used to go to with his parents, when he was a kid. He let the fingers of his free hand trace the mid-century patterns idly. “I wasn’t really sick,” he said. “I had to stay away for a few days for a medical reason.”

JJ swore loudly and slammed his hand against the top of the table. “I swear to god Shane you tell me where this bastard is right now,” he shouted. A thick, spicy scent flooded the room – sour limes, spicy peppers, and something like fermented black garlic. Anger that Shane could feel in his nose, on his tongue.

“It’s not like that!” Shane yelled back, finally looking at his friends. “Reign in your fucking scent, JJ, you’re gonna choke us.”

Wyatt’s eyes went wide. “How do you know?” he asked.

“What?”

“How do you know what JJ smells like?” Wyatt asked.

JJ’s scent sharpened with surprise. “Merde,” he said softly. “Non. You’re too old.”

“Yeah, fuck you,” Shane snapped back. “I’m not old, I’m just… at the far end of the range. It’s not impossible.” He chuckled bitterly. “Obviously,” he added, gesturing at his open mouth.

“You’re an alpha?” Wyatt asked, his voice going high on the last word. “Look at those fangs!” He smiled, pointing at Shane’s face. “JJ, look!”

“My man!” JJ said. He smiled as his scent finally mellowed. “With another alpha on the line we’re going to be unstoppable on the ice.”

“So what, you were out getting your rut on?” Wyatt teased. “You meet a nice man to shack up with and don’t even bring him home first to get your brothers’ take on the guy? Very slutty, Hollander.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Shane said, shaking his head. “You guys can’t tell anyone about me. You have to promise.”

“About the guy, you mean?” JJ looked confused. “I’m sorry I got the wrong idea but I do not slut shame, you know this. I am just happy you’re okay. You are, you know, new to dating men.”

“No, I mean you’re wrong about me. About,” Shane lowered his voice, “me, presenting.”

“I don’t think it’s gonna stay a secret, Hollander. Half the team is going to smell it on you next practice,” Wyatt pointed out.

“I don’t think so,” Shane said. “Wait, I’ll show you.” He carefully took off Rozanov’s hoodie, though his inner omega cried out at the loss. He folded it and set it on the table. Then he went to the kitchen sink, washing his hands and face, rubbing the lukewarm water over his neck too. After drying off with a hand towel, he went into the living room. “Okay, come smell me in here.”

JJ moved first; Wyatt followed but stood back while JJ sniffed at Shane’s neck. “I don’t understand,” JJ said. He jogged back over to the kitchen, grabbing the hoodie and inhaling. “This is everything,” he added, holding it out in front of him. “I smell it on you, a little, probably rubbed off on your shirt. But nothing else.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a freak,” Shane sighed as he collapsed into the only chair in the living room, his legs splay out in front of him. He raised his hands, shrugged, then let them drop into his lap. “I don’t have it all figured out yet but until I do, you can’t tell Coach, or anyone else.”

Wyatt took a seat on the couch. “We’re not going to say anything. But I guess I don’t understand this alpha stuff as well as I thought. When you have your first big rut, aren’t you supposed to, you know, smell even more than normal?”

“I didn’t,” Shane muttered.

“You didn’t rut?” JJ asked. He tossed the hoodie onto the coffee table before sitting next to Wyatt. “Shane, maybe you should go to hospital, get checked out?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment,” Shane said, which was close enough to the truth. He trusted when Ilya Rozanov said he’d take care of it, so it was just a matter of time. Alpha will take care of us, his omega whispered like a butterfly trapped in the back of his skull, a soft fluttery thing made out of emotion instead of words. “And if I tell you what happened you have to promise, life or death, not to say anything.”

“We promise, man,” Wyatt said first. He nudged JJ with his elbow.

“Oui, bien sûr,” JJ agreed. Of course.

“I didn’t go into rut because…” Shane rubbed the back of his neck. “It wasn’t rut. It was heat.”

The realization hit his friends slowly, or time itself slowed down in that moment. Shane didn’t know which it was, but he saw when the information was processed through his friends’ brains because their faces moved from concern and confusion to shock and then acceptance. He could smell it happening in real time too, through JJ’s scent. Fainter than before, but still enough to be noticeable.

After the silence stretched on to the point Shane almost couldn’t take it, JJ spoke up. “You’re an omega?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Shane admitted. “Surprise.”

“But you have fangs,” Wyatt said.

“Yeah, that too.” Shane shrugged again. “Like I said, freak.”

“You’re an omega with fangs?” Wyatt asked.

Shane studied his friend’s face. “I don’t know how else you want me to say it.”

“I think you have broken him,” JJ said, watching Wyatt carefully. “His small goalie brain cannot comprehend the dynamic mysteries.”

“Fuck off,” Wyatt laughed. “This is fucking awesome.”

“I don’t see how,” Shane told them both.

“You’re like an undercover omega,” Wyatt explained. “Like a secret identity. Alpha fangs, no scent, but when you want it, boom! Secret omega powers. Wait, what are an omega’s powers, anyway?”

“Mostly begging to get fucked and having no filter, as far as I can tell,” Shane said sarcastically.

“Cool.” Wyatt smiled. “You’re gonna make that work for you buddy. I believe in you. And,” he added, “you already found an alpha so that’s like, extra cool. When do we meet him?”

“It’s not like that,” Shane tried to say but the other men groaned dramatically. “It’s not!”

JJ threw the hoodie at him. Shane caught it with one hand, and without thinking, brought it to his face. His eyes closed as he found Ilya’s scent again.

“Oh, yeah, we can see how it’s not like that,” JJ teased.

“I swear to god, you both suck,” Shane complained, sinking lower in the chair. “We didn’t fuck, okay? I was in his office and it just happened. One minute I’m me, and the next I’m sweating buckets and I smell like a candy factory. He just took care of me, that’s all.”

“An alpha ‘took care of you’,” JJ said, making finger quotes in the air, “while you were in heat, for days, but you didn’t fuck? Not even once? Menteur!”

Liar hung in the space between them. Shane knew JJ meant it as a joke but it twisted in his gut. “Fuck, okay, I wanted to! I was screwed up. My brain was on fire.” He shook his head, like he was trying to shake free the shame filling his chest. “He called a nurse and left.”

“Oh. And that’s… bad?” Wyatt asked.

“He fucking left me there,” Shane said. “I can’t… you don’t understand. I have never wanted anyone more in my life but he obviously didn’t feel the same.”

“Buddy it sounds like maybe he was trying to do the right thing,” Wyatt said gently.

“Yeah, I agree,” JJ said. “Maybe bigger man than me.”

Shane looked up at that. “You’d take advantage of someone you don’t even know? Really?”

“I want to think no, of course. I hope not,” JJ said with a shrug. “Was he an old man?”

“No, he’s a little older than us but in his 20s.” Shane moved his teeth across his bottom lip, feeling the sharp prick as his new fangs caught on his skin. “He was… I don’t know.” Perfect, his omega supplied. Alpha is perfect. Shane blinked the thought away.

“Was he hot?” Wyatt asked.

Shane groaned. “So fucking hot, Hazy, I can’t even tell you.”

JJ laughed. “And of course he thought you were hot, Hollander.”

“You don’t know that,” Shane tried to argue, but both of his friends rolled their eyes at the same time.

“Yeah, okay,” JJ muttered as Wyatt waved his hand in Shane’s direction, as if to say get a load of this guy.

Wyatt made a serious face. “Let’s review the facts, shall we? Hot guy, has an office so a business guy, probably has money, who’s enough of a gentleman -”

“And has the resources to call a private nurse at a moment’s notice,” JJ interrupted.

“Right, so like I said, rich guy, he makes sure you’re all taken care of, for days, then sends you home in his clothes, and you don’t think he likes you?” Wyatt shook his head. “You’re supposed to have the highest IQ out there, man.”

“For hockey!” Shane objected. “Not… this.”

“Alphas show interest in an omega with gifts and acts of service,” JJ said. “Remember when I was chasing Melissa and I maxed out my credit card taking her shopping at Copley?”

“Oh, or last year, what was her name, Sophia?” Wyatt added. “You carried her books to every class and learned how to make those Spanish fritters with the meat and stuff inside.”

“Croquetas,” JJ said. “Those were good.”

“Totally, you should make those again,” Wyatt agreed with a small nod. “The ham ones.”

JJ looked thoughtful, pursing his lips. “I didn’t love the mushrooms, though.”

“Skip the mushrooms,” Wyatt said. “Whatever feels right to you is okay with me.” He patted JJ on the shoulder.

“Guys, can we get back to my problems?” Shane asked.

“Sorry, buddy. Which problem are we solving today?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Shane laughed. “Honestly, I’m still kind of in shock about it all.”

“Did you get his number?” Wyatt asked.

Shane pulled out his phone. “Yeah, him and a couple of his friends. The ones who hung out with me, during, you know.”

“Is that new? That’s new, right?”

Shane felt his face flush. “Oh. Yeah. Mine broke so he, uh, got it for me. The laptop too.”

JJ whistled. “Shane,” he sighed. “My friend.”

“Yeah?”

“Buddy,” Wyatt said. “Captain.”

“What?” Shane glanced between them. “What is it?”

“He wants you,” his friends said at the same time.

Shane groaned, throwing his head back. “You guys suck,” he repeated. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Yes dear,” JJ laughed, his voice saccharine sweet. “Food will be on the table in 20. You want to take your alpha’s sweatshirt with you?”

“Assholes,” Shane mumbled as his friends laughed at him, but he grabbed Ilya’s hoodie from the coffee table when he stood up and stomped into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Once he was alone, he threw himself on his twin bed, pulling the sweatshirt up to his face so he could breathe in Ilya’s comforting scent. It settled something in him, something anxious he didn’t have a name for yet. “Okay,” he whispered to himself. “We can figure this out. We’ll be fine.”

With the smell of JJ’s cooking and the sound of Wyatt’s laughter drifting into his room, with an alpha’s stolen clothes in his arms, Shane let himself believe it.

★⋅⋅⋅★

Ilya parked his car two blocks away from The Kingfisher, under a broken streetlamp which no longer gave off any light. The bar took up the ground floor of a squat, square building walking distance from where the South End became Roxbury, near enough to the 93 that you could hear cars racing down the highway. He’d driven his ‘66 Chevelle because the custom matte black finish was a little harder to see in the dark, and because it fit the vibe of the neighborhood, though the simple exterior hid a souped up engine he hoped he wouldn’t need tonight. Marly got out on the passenger side and pulled the seat forward so Hayden could climb out of the back.

“Gonna be hard to get back into this thing in a hurry,” Hayden complained.

“If we are in a hurry you go in the trunk,” Ilya replied. “Very roomy. You do not bleed on leather seats. Win-win.”

“I hate you,” Hayden mumbled as Marly stood next to him, shaking with silent laughter.

Ilya leaned toward them, looking Hayden in the eyes. “You good?”

“Yeah, I got it.” Hayden slapped Marly on the arm, then walked diagonally across the empty street.

Marly fixed the seat and slid back into the car. “Still think we should’ve bugged him.”

“Grady is too smart for that,” Ilya said. “If he has anything real to say, he will pat Hayden down first.”

Marly didn’t argue, but he kept his eyes on Hayden as the other man made his way down the block.

Ilya checked his phone. The doctor was available tonight at 8 PM, after the clinic closed. Ilya growled softly. He wanted to take Shane for his exam, wanted to be there for the pretty omega. In case the news was bad, and Shane needed to be held. In case it was good, and Shane wanted to celebrate. Maybe once this was done, they could see if what Ilya felt was anything real.

Maybe Shane felt something too.

He text Ryan instead, got confirmation, then sent Shane’s address. He glanced up to see Hayden had disappeared into the bar, but hadn’t yet been thrown out on his ass. Progress, he thought. He texted Shane to let him know Price would be picking him up in 30 minutes, flipping it over on his dash before the boy could reply. He wanted a response he was sure that right now, he wouldn’t get.

Hollander, not Shane. Hollander.

“Five minutes,” Marly said, holding his own phone up.

“Do it.”

Marly dialed and put it on speaker; it rang once, twice, then a third time before it was sent to voicemail. “That bought him another five,” the bigger man said.

Ilya took his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and rolled down his window. He lit it, savoring the first drag, then let his hand hang out the window before blowing the smoke out that way.

“You wanna talk about him?” Marly asked.

“Nope,” Ilya replied, popping the p dramatically.

Halfway through his cigarette, he heard footsteps rushing toward them. He opened his door but it was swiftly pushed closed again. “Rozanov,” a deep voice said.

Ilya looked into the face of his enemy. “Hunter,” he growled. “The fuck you want?”

“Me? You’re in the wrong neighborhood, asshole,” the other man replied. He was a few years older than Ilya, the same height but thicker in the torso. His brown hair was cut short, but he’d grown a well-trimmed beard since the last time they’d seen each other. “I need to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” Ilya flicked his cigarette butt in Hunter’s direction.

Hunter rolled his eyes as the butt bounced off his chest and fell to the ground. He moved his foot to crush it under his boot. “Kip isn’t going to tell your boy anything but I will,” he said. “If you can stop being a fucking psycho for two minutes.”

Marly snorted.

Ilya smacked him in the shoulder. “Talk,” he said to Hunter.

“You’re looking for a kid, right? Canadian and Asian, hockey player?”

“Maybe,” Ilya said with a shrug. “Describe him a little more.”

“Jesus, you always make these things difficult. Six foot, black hair, freckles. Ring a bell?”

Ilya’s alpha bristled at freckles. Hunter should not have gotten close enough to Hollander to notice them. “What about him?”

“Can you get to him or not?”

“What do you care?” Ilya looked Hunter up and down. The man’s forehead glistened faintly in the low light. “What’s wrong, old man? You seem nervous.”

“The situation’s fucked up,” Hunter said. “We were so close, but tonight… it doesn’t matter. The kid has to go. I don’t care what you do with him, but the Gradys can’t find him.”

“You want me to kill this boy for you?” Ilya growled, baring his fangs. Behind him, Marly was saying something in a quiet voice, one hand on Ilya’s elbow, but he shook him off. “We are not that kind of friends, Hunter.”

“Fuck you, I’m not asking you to kill anyone. Just relocate him, maybe. I genuinely do not give a fuck.” Hunter looked toward the bar. Ilya noticed, and glanced in that direction. Hayden was standing in the doorway, waving at someone inside. “I’ll tell you something no one else knows, okay? Maybe it’ll change things for you.”

Ilya shrugged, watching Hunter’s face now, and waited.

“He’s an omega, okay? That’s got to be worth something to you. Please.” Hunter’s eyes were shining. His scent was muted by the clear patches he wore on either side of his neck, but there was something desperate in his voice. “I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

“Grady doesn’t know you ask this?”

Hunter shook his head. “Kip isn’t going against George’s plans, even if he hates it.” He raised his head as Hayden got closer to the car. Ilya thought for a moment the man might say something else, but he just turned around and walked off.

Ilya turned the car back on while Hayden got in. “Was that Hunter?” he asked.

“Did you get anything?” Ilya replied instead of answering the other question. He grabbed his phone while Pike explained that neither Grady was in the building, but he’d left a vague message that should get attention. Shane had replied to his text with a 👍. Price was already on his way there. “Hunter knows about Hollander’s presentation,” he said as they pulled away from the curb. “The Gradys want him for something, but he wouldn’t say what.”

“Not a complete waste of time, then,” Hayden said. He was buckled in but leaned forward, one hand on the divider between the front seats. “I don’t love that they know already.”

Marly had been quietly staring out the passenger window. “I think they were watching him before all of this,” he said, still not looking at them. “I don’t get it though. He’s just a regular guy, even more so when he was a beta.”

“Maybe this is about hockey?” Pike suggested, but he didn’t sound sure. “The Irish handle a lot of betting, could they be trying to fix Eagles games? NCAA isn’t MLH but money is money.”

“Hunter made it sound like Hollander being an omega now was valuable, somehow. Like it changed how much the kid is worth,” Marly said. The streetlights passed them by, one after another, white light flickering briefly against the black. “I think he was trying to say that if we had the kid, we could sell him.” He coughed, pressing one hand to his throat. “Oh fuck, the idea makes me sick.”

“He says this because in Russia an omega has extra value. They are sold, sometimes.” He thought of his mother, for the first time in too long. “Illegal of course but is like Cuban cigars and exotic furs. Having a rare omega is like what do they call it, status objects? Is fucking racist bullshit, to think I would do that.”

“Boss,” Hayden said gently. “Do you think they would have grabbed Shane if we didn’t?”

Ilya pressed the gas pedal deeper into the floor.

Chapter End Notes

I've read a lot of a/b/o Heated Rivalry fic in preparation for writing this story, and so much of it centers around a) knocking one of the boys up without their knowledge or intent, or b) rape, kidnapping, and torture. SO MUCH RAPE YOU GUYS. And I'm not saying this to judge anyone - done well, done right, talking about how we recover after abuse can be a really powerful and healing thing. (Okay, I'm judging a little, because some of those fics are clearly not about the healing part at all.) If you're looking for that, this isn't going to be the story for you. This is a heist tale, ultimately. It's about crime and criminals, but also about found family and pack. About figuring out who you are when your life changes in a way you didn't expect. And ultimately, what you're willing to do for love. And because it's me, also some very attractive people fucking ;)

I just wanted to warn folks in case you worried about where this was going. Keep an eye on the tags, but as I said before, I've already included all the major warnings and I'm not going to bait-and-switch this on you.

Other than that, I hope you're enjoying this! It's been so much fun to write :)

Chapter 6: The Invisible Line

Chapter Summary

“I have a gun,” the man said, casually, the way he might mention there were more burgers on the grill in the backyard.

“Three of us,” Ilya said. “Three guns. I win, go home.”

“Look, I don’t want to hurt anyone,” the man said. He shrugged. “Tell me what you want for him. Let’s make a deal.”

“No,” Ilya said again. “You tell Grady that he is mine now.”

The man laughed. Something about it tickled at Ilya’s brain. “I don’t work for George Grady. I thought you might.”

“I cannot keep saying no to you, I am getting bored.” He motioned toward the doorway with his gun, knowing Marly had the man in his sights. “Time to go.”

Ilya pulled into the clinic parking lot 25 minutes later. The doctor they used was on the north edge of their territory, close enough to the hospital to get privileges there but mostly operating out of a building that had seen better days. The exterior was concrete block, painted beige, with only a few windows on the ground floor. The clinic was for the neighborhood, and the presence of Ilya’s men usually meant no one messed with Doctor Torres or her underpaid nursing staff, but usually didn’t mean never. The windows were reinforced glass with bars on the exterior; Ilya had paid for the security system to be upgraded three years ago, with a digital kill switch he could access from his phone for the nights they needed the good doctor’s services. Hayden had used it to shut off the cameras when Price was five minutes out.

Price’s black SUV was already in the lot when they pulled in. Marly was out first, eyes scanning the dark while Hayden unfolded himself from Ilya’s back seat. Ilya knocked, his knuckles rapping against the glass door four times. Ryan Price appeared a moment later, one hand inside of his jacket. He saw who was on the other side of it, glanced toward where Ilya knew Torres kept the exam rooms, then unlocked the door.

“You left him alone?” Ilya asked as he pushed past the bigger man.

“He asked for privacy,” Price said.

“The situation has changed,” Ilya snapped back.

“It’s a doctor’s office,” Price replied, his voice as calm as ever. “We wait out here.” He nodded at Marly and Hayden as they entered, then re-locked the door behind them. The three of them found seats but Ilya stayed on his feet, staring down the hallway as if he could see trouble before it materialized.

“I should be in there,” he said to himself.

“No,” Price and Marly both said, at the same time Hayden said, “Definitely not.”

“You are all traitors,” Ilya said over his shoulder. The hallway was long and dark; most of the building was shut down this time of night. He could see light spilling out from underneath the door of one of the exam rooms toward the end of the hall. Behind that door, Shane Hollander.

“We’re saving ya from ya’self,” Hayden said.

Ilya waved his hand at them, dismissing the idea.

“Someone fill me in?” Price asked. Marly gave him the broad strokes: Holloway, the Gradys, Hunter’s request, and the fact that in the week between Shane presenting and this afternoon, someone gave information about a 19 year old Canadian college student to the oldest Boston family in the Irish mob.

The number of people who even knew about Shane’s new designation was small enough Ilya could count them on his fingers, and a third of them were in this building. He resisted the growl that bubbled up in his chest, forcing it back down.

“He could be getting bad news,” Ilya said.

“Yeah, could be,” Hayden agreed.

“He needs support,” Ilya said. “Emotional. Possibly physical.”

“He’ll let us know if that’s true,” Marly said.

Not us, me, Ilya’s alpha argued, but Ilya kept that to himself. “He may discover need while in the room,” Ilya said. “He cannot come out here to say he needs support if he is in the room with the bad news.”

“He has your number, right?” Marly asked. “He could text you.”

This was both accurate and unhelpful, since it kept Ilya on the other side of the exam room door. Ilya pulled out his phone, sending a message:

IR: I am at clinic

Shane’s response was immediate, which pleased Ilya’s alpha, sending waves of a proud, preening feeling down his spine.

🏒🫦: What? Don’t come in here

IR: I am in waiting room

IR: in case you need support

🏒🫦: what kind of support could I need in a doctor’s appointment? Just wait out there.

IR: I am waiting supportively

🏒🫦: how are you scary and weird at the same time?

IR: Wrong I am sexy and menacing

🏒🫦: go away

Ilya frowned, staring at his phone. It felt like a rejection, but it might just be geography. He checked, to be safe.

IR: out of the building?

The answer took longer than he liked. He watched the little message dots flicker on the screen, appearing and disappearing while Shane decided what to say next.

🏒🫦: no

🏒🫦: just wait there

Ilya slipped the phone back into his pocket. He could wait.

Eventually his alpha accepted that the boy was probably not going to slip out of a windowless room without Ilya noticing, so he let himself drop into one of the empty seats in the waiting area. Price wordlessly offered a choice of two glossy magazines, both months out of date. Ilya took the one that promised to show off the BEST NESTS OF 2025 and teased an article that would help you BAG THE ALPHA OF YOUR DREAMS instead of the one about golf, largely because he wasn’t sure what made a dream-worthy alpha but it might be important to Shane. He flipped straight to that page, ignoring the muffled laughter coming from Hayden’s direction.

A few minutes later, much more informed, he texted Shane again.

IR: you prefer alpha who has put together outfits or is casual?

His phone buzzed thirty seconds later.

🏒🫦: wtf does that have to do with checking my gland expression?

IR: magazine quiz, what is gland expression?

🏒🫦: dr is checking if my scent glands work properly

IR: does it hurt?

🏒🫦: kind of but less than a high stick

🏒🫦: put together for work and going out, casual at home

Ilya nodded to himself. That sounded like how he dressed already.

IR: what is your idea of perfect getaway?

🏒🫦: what kind of quiz is this?

IR: I told you, magazine quiz

IR: we are reading magazines in waiting room

🏒🫦: we? who’s here?

IR: Pricey, Pike, and Marly

IR: still hurt?

🏒🫦: no she’s doing another test now

🏒🫦: Marly? How many fucking friends do you have?

IR: many I am beloved

🏒🫦: yeah okay dude

🏒🫦: my parents have a little cottage on a lake, it’s the only place I’ve ever been

🏒🫦: I love it though so I guess there

Ilya rubbed the back of his neck as he checked his phone. He’d always been a city kid; he’d never been camping but his mother’s family had a little dacha in the foothills near where she grew up. He’d been there a few times, when he was small. They didn’t have a lake though. That would be a new experience. Not that he’d ever go to Canada, but maybe he could find a place like that within driving distance of Boston.

He kept reading the quiz.

IR: do you prefer someone who makes you happy or who is real with you?

It took almost two minutes to get a response this time.

🏒🫦: why can’t I have both?

Ilya frowned at that. Why couldn’t they have both?

IR: yes I agree quiz is stupid

🏒🫦: you’re still going to read it to me aren’t you?

IR: yes

IR: do you believe in signs, fate, etc.?

The little dots blinked on and off.

🏒🫦: I didn’t but idk now

🏒🫦: maybe

Ilya thought about that too.

IR: same

IR: how would you describe your flirting style?

🏒🫦: are you seriously sexting me right now Rozanov?

IR: not sexting, is quiz

IR: promise you will know when I sext you pretty boy 👅😍💦

🏒🫦: not now

🏒🫦: stop texting me

Ilya waiting another minute to see if Shane would take it back, or change his mind. When no more messages came through, he put his phone facedown on his leg and went back to the magazine.

“How’s he doin’?” Hayden asked quietly.

“Omega is mean to me,” Ilya replied without looking up.

“You like it though, right?” Marly asked.

Ilya could hear the grin in his friend’s voice. He hummed, a wordless, non-committal noise, then flipped to the next page. By the time Shane emerged twenty minutes later, Ilya had realized three things:

• he was not, when it came to Shane Hollander, all that good at waiting

• he was actually a pretty dreamy alpha, provided his potential mate had a certain flexibility when it came to the American legal system (which the quiz was not prepared to assess)

• he’d been thinking of the boy as “Shane” and even “omega” instead of “Hollander” ever since Hunter said Shane was a problem in need of relocating

When the door down the hall clicked open, Ilya jumped to his feet. He moved to the invisible line at the edge of the waiting room, watching as Shane and Dr. Torres made their way slowly down the hall. Shane looked wrecked; he had both hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, and his eyes were red. His scent was worse.

“What happened?” Ilya asked.

Shane glanced up quickly, as if he was startled to find Ilya standing in front of him. “Nothing,” he mumbled.

Ilya stepped forward until he was less than a foot away but didn’t put his hands on the boy. “Shane,” he said softly, “I can smell it on you. Are you hurt?”

Shane shook his head. “Not here, okay?” He turned to the doctor. “You’ll let me know?”

“Yes, someone from our office will call you. Is this?” she started to say, then paused, instead glancing at Ilya.

“Yeah,” Shane said, letting his breath out in a sigh.

“I’m happy to run that test for you” Torres said, but Shane cut her off.

“No,” he said. He straightened a little. “I don’t need that.”

He didn’t look at Ilya when he said it. Torres did, a small, furtive movement she corrected a moment later.

“Of course,” she told Shane. “Please make another appointment if you need anything.”

Shane nodded, then moved past Ilya toward the door.

“You will bill me,” Ilya told the doctor. It wasn’t a question.

She pressed her lips together. “He said you brought him here because of hockey, is that true?”

“Yes,” Ilya said. “His school doctor will talk to his coach. Shane does not want this. Is there a problem?”

“Not for any other reason?” She wore scent blocking patches, glossy squares on either side of her neck that caught the overhead light, and her face was devoid of anything Ilya could use to guess at what she meant.

“What kind of other reason?” Ilya could smell his own scent sharpening, so he tried to tamp it down, but it had been a long day and he’d already been accused maybe being the kind of man who was okay with trafficking omegas once today. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with it a second time.

For her own good, Torres seemed to have realized this. “I expect to see him at his next appointment,” she said, leaving it at that. “Lock up when you go,” she added before heading back down the hallway.

Behind him, his men waited. Ilya turned to see Shane standing at the clinic door, blocked by Price’s huge frame. Marly stood next to them. Three large alphas dressed in suits standing in a clinic after hours, surrounding a dark-haired omega who was not quite but nearly as tall and muscular as they were. And Hayden Pike, wearing a dark green sweatshirt under a light brown bomber jacket almost the same color as his sandy blond hair – casual, because he had been the one going into the Kingfisher alone.

Two of his most trusted allies, and Jackie’s husband, with him tonight not for business, but because of Shane. Because of how he felt about Shane.

“You called Jackie, yes?” he asked, suddenly aware that he hadn’t updated her after they left the bar.

“Yeah, of course,” Hayden replied. “She knows we’re gonna be late tonight.”

“One of you is taking me home now, right?” Shane asked, finally taking his eyes off the clinic floor. “You are, right?”

“The situation has changed,” Ilya said. “I will explain in the car.”

“What?” Shane whined as his shoulders slumped. “You’re kidnapping me again? Great. Of course you are.”

Several people protested at once.

“Enough!” Ilya shouted. Then, when everyone else had shut up, he said, “I am keeping you safe.” He stepped forward, close enough to touch, still keeping his hands to himself. “Please, Shane,” he said. Gently. Speaking to just one person. “Can we go in the car?”

Shane looked at him. Ilya looked back, raising his hands to where they hovered an inch away from the other man’s biceps, waiting.

Shane’s chin dipped, a tiny nod.

Ilya rubbed Shane’s arms for a moment. “I will explain, then you decide what you want to do, okay? You decide.”

“Okay,” Shane agreed.

Pike and Marly followed Price to his SUV without asking. Ilya led Shane to the passenger side of the Chevelle and opened the door for him. Shane slipped into the car, buckling his seatbelt while Ilya got behind the wheel. As he was about to turn the key, a hand landed on his.

“Can you just,” Shane started to say, but stopped.

“Whatever you need,” Ilya promised. “You tell me, yes?”

Shane’s eyes were wet but he didn’t cry. The tears glistened without falling, changing his face into something fragile and strong at the same time. “I don’t know how it works,” Shane said hesitantly, “but the doctor said, uh, it could help. Um. Me, that is.” He paused again, biting his lip. “Can I smell you?”

Ilya’s eyebrows shot up toward his forehead. He held his breath, afraid to say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, shatter the bubble of this moment.

“You want me to scent you?” he asked finally. “Omega, are you sure?” Are you my omega, he wanted to ask, do you want to be mine you let me do this and you’re mine you are mine…

Shane nodded. “Yeah, I guess. The doctor said, because you can smell me and no else really can, anyway it doesn’t matter why, but I feel like my brain itches, you know?” As he spoke, he started to speed up, talking faster and faster as he went on. “And I’ve always had it but it’s an omega thing but I wasn’t an omega yet and I don’t know what the fuck that means but I can’t deal with any more, Rozanov, not right this second, so if you have something else I have to know tonight I need to calm the fuck down or I’m gonna get out of this car and run into traffic, okay? I just can’t -”

“Hey, hey,” Ilya said soothingly. He reached for Shane, unbuckling the belt with one hand and pulling him close with the other. “I am here, Shane. I am here.”

Ilya closed his eyes as Shane leaned against his chest. He thought about the boy in his arms, about his beautiful brown eyes and the stars written across his face. He imagined waking up in the morning, tangled up in Shane’s limbs and soft clean sheets, sunlight from the window making Shane’s skin glow like honey. He pressed his lips to Shane’s forehead, and his scent bloomed inside of the car, filling the space with the smell of a holiday his mother used to celebrate when he was a child. Just before winter ended and spring began, women would gather to make food and decorate the church. Kids would play games while the old folks built a scarecrow out of branches and hay. At the end of the festival, they set the scarecrow on fire. Ilya and the other boys would grab branches, usually pine, with the tiny green leaves still attached, and dare each other to get close enough to the burning effigy to light their branch on fire. Ilya always did it first, running through the yard with his burning branch until the other boys lit theirs and caught up with him.

In those moments, with his branch held over his head, running on his small thin limbs, a gangly boy with a too wide grin, he flew across the ground. His mother always laughed, loud and free. His father never came to these things, too much an angry old man to celebrate anything that didn’t bring honor to himself or his name. Alexei did come, in the years when Mama was still alive, so they ran together. Two brothers, smoke and flame, running, running, laughing and running. After, when his mother was gone and his alpha rose up to protect him in her place, his new scent reminded him of that freedom, and he was grateful for it.

Now, it wrapped around a boy he barely knew. Shane’s breathing slowed down as his omega settled. Ilya’s arms tightened as Shane’s came up so he could grab Ilya’s shoulders. A nose found the side of Ilya’s neck.

Shane’s lips found the skin just under Ilya’s scent gland.

“Shane,” Ilya warned, but the boy kissed his neck again. “Shane, is my scent, is making you feel,” another kiss, “fuck, sweet boy, I don’t want you to regret -”

Shane’s lips found Ilya’s mouth.

The scent in the car changed as Shane’s rose up to join Ilya’s: sweet and smoky, cinnamon and cloves and pine, mixed together. Mine, Ilya thought. Mine.

When he pulled himself away, Shane’s lips were swollen and red. There was a delicious pink blush across his cheeks, making his freckles stand out more than before. “Beautiful omega,” Ilya whispered. “We have to stop for now.”

Shane groaned and leaned forward to steal another kiss. Ilya kissed him deeply in return, his tongue slipping between those perfect lips to explore the inside of Shane’s mouth. This time, Shane pulled away first. “Okay,” he whispered. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Does it?” Ilya said. “I am not sure, maybe kiss me one more time to check?”

Shane laughed. “Hey, you said we had to stop! No take backs!”

“No, Shane,” Ilya whined, “I was wrong. I need one more kiss.”

“Stop it,” Shane laughed, one arm between them to keep Ilya away. “Be good.”

“Yes, omega,” Ilya purred. “I can be very good for you.”

Shane bit his lip. “Yeah, I bet you are.” He sighed then, as the mood faded out of him. “You’re really just trying to protect me?”

“I promise,” Ilya said. “I don’t know what you are mixed up in, but I will help if you let me.”

“Okay,” Shane said as he collapsed back into his seat, his voice faint. “I believe you.”

They drove for a little while without talking. Ilya let Shane have this silence for as long as he could, before he made the threat from the Gradys real by speaking it out loud. Eventually, they ran out of time, so he began to talk, keeping his words as simple and clear as possible. He explained about how Pike had found bugs in Shane’s phone and computer, how someone from the Irish side of town was keeping an eye on Shane and probably had been for a while. How someone, Ilya didn’t know who yet, had shared the news about Shane’s new designation faster than should have been possible. He mentioned Hayden going to the Gradys for answers, and part of Hunter’s warning, though he left out the disgusting suggestion that Shane’s value might be tied to his status as an omega, or the way Dr. Torres’s veiled questions suggested Ilya might agree.

All through it, Shane kept quiet.

“We will sort this out,” Ilya said, when the rest was done.

“I know,” Shane said, but he was curled in on himself again, and his voice was low. The giddy boy who kissed Ilya happily minutes ago was gone.

Ilya let the moment stretch. As they turned onto the street where Ilya kept his office, he asked, “Do you want to talk about your appointment?”

“No,” Shane said. “Not yet,” he added a minute later.

The other men were waiting outside the building when Ilya pulled up. “We talk upstairs,” Ilya said as Price opened the door for them. Ilya rested his hand on the small of Shane’s back as they walked up the stairs to the third floor. The building was dark but there was enough moonlight coming in through the large windows on the second and third floors that no one bothered turning on the lights. Marly was laughing with Price about something that had happened at the club the night before, a customer maybe, or one of their employees, when they reached the top of the stairs. Ilya felt the air shift a second before the other two alphas did. He grabbed the back of Shane’s jacket, shoving him at Pike. “Stay,” he hissed.

Whatever argument Shane was going to make died on his lips when Ilya pulled a black handgun out from the holster that sat under his own jacket. Pike moved in front of the omega, one arm outstretched to keep him back. Marly, with his gun in his left hand, reached his other hand out to open the door to Ilya’s office. Price, behind them, would hold the space between the doorway and Shane; a silent understanding born out of experience.

Ilya nodded at Marly.

Marly took the door first, opening it and stepping into the room. As he looked toward the empty space and the doorway to Ilya’s apartment, Ilya stepped in facing the desk. His gun was already raised but the man sitting behind the desk had his gun up too, pointing it at Ilya. The silver gleamed in the low yellow light from the small lamp Ilya kept there, but it had been moved to the side, set on a bookshelf just above the man’s head.

“I’m here for Shane Hollander,” the man said.

“No,” Ilya growled.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” the other man said. He was older, in his fifties or sixties, with short grey hair. His face was lined but he looked strong still, fit. The arm holding the gun didn’t shake. There was something about his face though… like he wasn’t worried at all.

“No,” Ilya repeated.

“I have a gun,” the man said, casually, the way he might mention there were more burgers on the grill in the backyard.

“Three of us,” Ilya said. “Three guns. I win, go home.”

“Look, I don’t want to hurt anyone,” the man said. He shrugged. “Tell me what you want for him. Let’s make a deal.”

“No,” Ilya said again. “You tell Grady that he is mine now.”

The man laughed. Something about it tickled at Ilya’s brain. “I don’t work for George Grady. I thought you might.”

“I cannot keep saying no to you, I am getting bored.” He motioned toward the doorway with his gun, knowing Marly had the man in his sights. “Time to go.”

“And I’d rather not shoot you, but I’m not leaving without the kid.” The stranger shrugged again. “We both keep repeating ourselves.”

“Ilya, don’t shoot him!” Shane yelled suddenly from the doorway.

“Shane?” the man called out, half coming out of the chair. He kept his gun trained on Ilya though, even as his eyes flicked toward Shane’s voice for a moment.

Ilya’s alpha flared, his scent going bright and protective. “Stay back, Shane,” he said, raising his voice to be heard.

“Goddammit Price, put me down!” There was a scuffle behind him, but Ilya kept his eyes fixed on the man sitting at his desk. “Ilya, please don’t hurt him,” Shane said loudly.

“Shane, you need to go back downstairs, okay malysh?” Ilya called out. “It is not safe for you here.”

“Ilya – fuck, Price, you’re too fucking strong – Ilya put the fucking gun down!”

Ilya faltered then, struggling under a command from his the omega. He turned to look at him.

Shane was wriggling helplessly in Price’s gigantic arms, several inches off the floor. “Ilya, please,” he begged, “that’s my fucking dad.”

Chapter 7: One Thing Remains Right in the Universe

Chapter Summary

Ilya’s eyes snapped back to Shane’s father. “You are thief?” he asked. “Professional?”

David nodded. “I was.”

“Does Shane know this?”

“No,” David said. His shoulders slumped. “No, he has no idea. You gotta let me tell him. Please. I’ll help your guys, but tomorrow, bring him back and I’ll tell him everything.”

“That is up to Shane,” Ilya said. As he passed Price, he lowered his voice. “Don’t hurt him unless you have to,” he said.

“He traded his own kid,” Price said.

“Yes, so,” Ilya shrugged. “You might have to.”

Shane was wriggling helplessly in Price’s gigantic arms, several inches off the floor. “Ilya, please,” he begged, “that’s my fucking dad.”

Ilya lowered his gun and motioned to Price, who let Shane go. The boy hit the floor running, pushing past Ilya to hug the older man, who stood up to meet him.

“Shane, I was worried,” the man murmured into Shane’s shoulder. He let out a breath of air suddenly, as Shane squeezed him tighter.

Marly leaned toward Ilya. “Spice cake,” he said quietly. “I get it now. That kid is a force.”

“Fuck all the way off,” Ilya growled under his breath. Marly chuckled but didn’t say anything else.

“You sorted in there?” Pike called from the hallway.

“Shane, this is really your father?” Ilya asked, ignoring Hayden for a moment.

Shane turned then, stepping back from the older man, and nodded. “Sorry, yes, Ilya, this is my dad, David. Dad,” he added, pointing as he listed off their names, “this is Ilya and Marly, Price is the big guy, and Pike’s in the hall.”

“A’ight, I’m coming in,” Pike muttered as he poked his head into the room. “No bloodshed? We good?”

“Yes, come in,” Ilya said, motioning with his gun. He realized then that it was still in his hand, so he tucked back into the holster under his jacket. He noticed Marly kept his in hand, though it was pointed at the floor.

“Sorry about the dramatic entrance,” David said. “This was the last place I knew Shane was, I didn’t know if you were friend or foe.” He smiled easily. “Still not sure, to be totally honest.”

“Let’s sit,” Ilya said. “Shane, will you get the extra chair from the bedroom?”

It was more than a question. Ilya saw David’s eyes widen slightly as Shane left to get the chair. This was Ilya’s way of saying that he knew Shane enough to order him around (even it was polite) and Shane knew this place enough to know where Ilya’s bedroom was. It was a claim, of sorts. Small, but not subtle at all. He couldn’t be subtle, not when a man with a gun showed up to take Shane away. Even if that man was his father.

Especially when that man didn’t fit what Pike had discovered in his research, or the few things Shane had said about his family.

No one said anything until the omega was back with the chair. He set it next to the other one that was already in the open part of the room, dropped into it, and waved his father over. Ilya nodded as the older man passed him, then sat in the chair behind the desk. Price stayed in the doorway; Marly, still holding his gun, leaned against the arm of the couch closest to Shane and his father. Pike, beta-oblivious to the scents lingering in the room, dropped onto the center of the couch with a sigh. “So,” Hayden said, “your dad, huh?”

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault, he texted me earlier and I didn’t answer,” Shane said. “Sorry, dad. I’ve had a lot going on the last week or so.”

“Hey, kiddo, don’t worry about it,” David said. “I’ve been meaning to drive down and see how you were doing. Your roommate still the guy who does all the cooking?”

“JJ,” Shane said, “yeah, he’s great. He made this chicken stew thing for dinner tonight, it had like peppers and cloves in it, which is fucking weird because that’s his alpha smell too and I didn’t know that before.”

“Your roommate is alpha?” Ilya asked, then cringed as he smelled the annoyance in his own scent.

Shane looked over at him with a smirk on his face. “Oh, did I not mention that?”

Ilya hummed, but didn’t answer.

David Hollander watched them carefully. “So how did you meet your friends here, Shane? Don’t tell me these guys are in your English Lit class.”

“Oh…” Shane started, then stopped. He stared at Ilya for a moment, biting his lower lip.

“Hayden’s wife goes to school with Shane,” Ilya said, gesturing toward the man on the couch. “She met Shane, now we are all friends.”

“Right,” Shane said. “Jackie. She’s, uh, great. Nursing, you know.”

“Right,” David said slowly. “Well that sounds great, son. We should get outta their hair, though, all right? You can come hang out at my hotel with me, and tomorrow we’ll get breakfast. There’s this great diner I want to take you to.”

“That may not be a good -” Marly started to say, as Ilya leaned forward.

“Dad, I don’t think -” Shane was saying, then –

“You bugged his phone,” Hayden said. “His computer too.”

The room went quiet.

Hayden kept going. His green eyes were glossy but his jaw was clenched. “I remember you,” he said. “Fuck.”

“How do you know my dad?” Shane asked. His voice was very small, and in the air Ilya caught the scent of panic.

He stood up, but Hayden wasn’t done.

“Boss man I know I said chase your dreams and all but you gotta not.” Hayden sniffed. “I was wrong. You gotta drop the kid.”

“Pike, what the fuck?” Marly snarled.

“I can’t get caught up in this,” Hayden said, still staring at Shane’s father. “I’m sorry, Roz, I can’t. Jacks is gonna kill me as it is.”

David smiled then, a tight-lipped thing, as his nostrils flared slightly. Not scenting the air – he hadn’t reacted to anything Ilya had smelled since they walked into his office and found him there. A beta then. But he was breathing harder now, though otherwise his face was controlled.

The hand holding on the gun on his thigh twitched slightly.

“You’re Bobby’s pup,” David said. He sounded different now. The soft edges went out of his voice, replaced with a faint accent, something familiar Ilya couldn’t quite place. “Geez, kid, I ain’t seen you since you were what, ten?”

“Rozanov, I swear, I can’t be a part of this,” Hayden said in a choked voice.

Price shifted his weight from where he’d been leaning against the door frame. Ilya caught it out of the corner of his eye, the way he clocked Marly’s finger moving back to the trigger of his gun.

“Dad, what’s he talking about?” Shane asked. “You know these guys?”

“It’s nothing,” David said, shaking his head a little. “Let’s talk about it over breakfast.”

“You said you’d never been to Boston,” Shane said slowly. “When I got in, you told me it was too far from home and you didn’t want me going to college in some city you and Mom had never been to before.”

“Shane, we should go,” David said.

“No,” Ilya said. “Shane, you do not have to go with him.”

The boy’s face scrunched up. “Dad, where did you a get a gun?”

“Shane…” David said. “Please.”

“Mr. Hollander,” Ilya started to say, but Hayden laughed.

“Hollander,” the man said with a huff. “That picture of you with the dog, that was good. Can’t make out your face but an old guy, some boring Canadian bureaucrat, who’s gonna be surprised you don’t understand social media? This whole thing you got goin’ on? Pops would loved that shit.”

“I had nothing to do with his death, kid,” David said.

Hayden shot up from the couch. “Don’t you fucking talk about him!” Marly reached out with his free hand but Pike shook him off. “He went along with your fucking bullshit and you know where he ended up!”

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Shane shouted. The smell of his omega poured off of him in waves, his normally sweet scent turning into a dark rum, laced with confusion and fear. Ilya was around the desk and halfway across the room before he decided to move.

Marly coughed, once, on the thick pheromones clogging the air.

“Easy, malysh,” Ilya crooned as he took Shane in his arms. “Let’s take big breaths and be calm, okay?” He pressed one hand to Shane’s back, squeezing him against his own chest, so Shane could feel as Ilya’s ribs expanded. “Breathe with me.”

“Shane, you have fangs,” David said.

Shane make a small noise that might have been a laugh, or a sob. “It’s been a long week, Dad.”

“You presented? Well, that’s great son!” David laughed, obviously relieved. “That solves everything! They only wanted you as an omega, they’re not gonna take you as an alpha. I can get us out of this.”

Ilya squeezed Shane again, shifting him slightly so his body was between Shane and his father. He let go then, turning around carefully so Shane was behind his back. “What deal did you make with the Gradys?” Ilya asked, his voice so low it was practically a growl. His fangs were bared, he could feel his lips pull back from his teeth, but he didn’t care.

“It wasn’t a deal, it was a debt, but it doesn’t matter now,” David was saying, though he wasn’t looking at Ilya. He was watching his son.

Ilya took one step back, pushing Shane back with him. “You made deal for your own child? If he is omega, he pays debt for you?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” David said again. “Shane, I will tell you everything, but let’s go, okay? Just you and me.”

“Tell me you didn’t,” Shane said. He put on hand on Ilya’s bicep. “Dad, what the fuck?” His voice broke on the last few words.

“You’re safe, Shane. They don’t want an alpha, I promise.” David stood up, the silver gun still in his hand. “I can fix this.”

“Yeah,” Shane said, nodding as he stepped around Ilya to face his father. “Problem is, I didn’t present as an alpha.”

“And the Gradys know it,” Hayden said. He’d sat back down on the couch at some point, Ilya wasn’t sure when. “My pops, your own kid. I hope it was worth it.”

“Shut the fuck up!” David yelled, pointing his gun at Hayden. “You don’t fucking know.”

Shane stepped in front of his father. “No,” he said, as Ilya grabbed him with both hands, not sure which one of them Shane was talking to.

David gasped, immediately pointing his gun away.

Shane held out his hand. “Give it me.”

“Shane, please,” David tried one more time, but Shane shook his head. His father glanced around the room, then sighed and handed over the gun.

The boy swung his arm behind him so Ilya could take the heavy pistol from him.

“I’m sorry,” the older man said as he sunk down into his chair. “Shane, you gotta believe me.”

Ilya handed the silver gun to Marly, then put both of his hands on Shane’s arms again. “We will solve this, yes?” He tried to make his voice sound soothing; he could feel the omega trembling under his fingers. “We know more now. Your father can tell us more.”

“Can we get out of here?” Shane asked.

David glanced up. “Of course, buddy.”

“No, Dad, not you.” He turned to look at Ilya. “Can you get me out of here?”

Ilya nodded, forcing a small smile onto his face. “Of course,” he said. “Can you wait for me downstairs? Inside, yes? Do not go outside without me.”

Shane nodded again, then left without looking back at his father.

With the boy gone, Ilya let the softness he’d forced onto his face drop away. “You will tell them everything. Anything you can think of. You lie or you leave anything out, do anything to hurt Shane, I will mail you back to Canada in tiny boxes.”

“I would never hurt my son,” David said. “He should never have been an omega. It’s not how this was supposed to work.”

Ilya didn’t bother responding. “Don’t let him leave,” he told Marly.

“Penthouse?” the other man asked.

“Da. No calls unless urgent.” To Hayden he said, “I need your help. Is up to you, but, you know more than I do here.”

Hayden smirked. “At least one thing remains right in the universe,” he said. “Ilya Rozanov has a problem he needs me to untangle.”

“Yes, asshole, you are needed. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Hayden said sarcastically. “Jacks is gonna be wicked ripped at me and we’re gonna go to war with the Irish over an omega we barely know because his thief of a father traded him away. I’m peachy fucking keen.”

Ilya’s eyes snapped back to Shane’s father. “You are thief?” he asked. “Professional?”

David nodded. “I was.”

“Does Shane know this?”

“No,” David said. His shoulders slumped. “No, he has no idea. You gotta let me tell him. Please. I’ll help your guys, but tomorrow, bring him back and I’ll tell him everything.”

“That is up to Shane,” Ilya said. As he passed Price, he lowered his voice. “Don’t hurt him unless you have to,” he said.

“He traded his own kid,” Price said.

“Yes, so,” Ilya shrugged. “You might have to.”

★⋅⋅⋅★

Shane didn’t say anything to Ilya as the man led him back to the black Chevelle they’d parked outside, one hand always on Shane’s back. The vintage car seemed more menacing than it had before, as if it had taken on some of the threat Shane felt from all around him. On the way to Ilya’s office, he’d been protected. Scared, but sure there was some misunderstanding behind everything that was happening to him. Now he knew he was just a little part of some bigger plan. He wasn’t caught up in something by mistake. Explaining the error to the Gradys, or whoever else was involved, wasn’t going to save him. He leaned his face against the cool glass of the passenger window, and closed his eyes.

Ilya didn’t try to talk to him, either.

He opened his eyes again when the car slowed, pulling into an underground parking space. He waited for Ilya to open his car door, then let himself be guided to an elevator. He didn’t bother watching Ilya press the buttons to enter a code, or check which floor they were at when the elevator stopped. It wasn’t until they were in a large living area that Shane realized they were in an apartment. “Is this yours?” he asked.

Ilya’s cheeks gained a hint of pink. “Yes, is my home,” he said. “No one comes here so… stairs need two keys, I am the only person who has them. Elevator needs code only five people have including me, and I get alert on my phone when anyone uses it. Not perfect, but you are safe tonight I think.”

The apartment walls were worn red brick. Shane saw the sleek, modern furniture, the long marble kitchen island that separated the open kitchen from the living space. There was a wall of bookshelves on one side, and a dining table set on the other. “No pictures,” he said softly. “I mean, my parent’s house is covered with pictures. Me, mostly,” he said with a small smile.

“Little Shane in the bathtub?” Ilya said. “Did you have yellow ducky?” He was smirking, one side of his mouth curved up more than the other.

“More like little Shane in hockey gear, then middle school Shane in hockey gear and a very sad haircut.”

“I would like to see this,” Ilya said.

“You don’t have family?” Shane asked. “No little Ilya in a bathtub?” he added, trying to lighten the mood.

“No,” Ilya said stiffly. “I will show you guest room. If you want shower, I will bring clothes, okay?”

“Ilya,” Shane started to say, but the other man shook his head.

“Is fine. This way.”

The guest room was bigger than Shane’s room in his apartment. There was a queen sized bed in the middle, set against the far wall, with dark blue sheets and matching blankets. The walls were bare here too, but there was a window that probably got good light during the day. Ilya strode over to one of the two doors on the opposite wall, pushing one open. “Bathroom,” he said. “I keep shampoo and things, for guests, but if you don’t like, I have others. In mine, I mean.” He swallowed. “My bathroom. If you want.”

Shane rubbed the hem of his tee shirt between two of his fingers. “I’m sure whatever you have is great,” he said. “I appreciate you letting me stay here tonight.”

“Of course,” Ilya said with a shrug. “Is no problem.”

“Well, I should…” Shane waved a hand toward the shower.

“Yes, I get clothes,” Ilya said, moving past as he headed toward the bedroom door.

Shane’s fingers snagged on Ilya’s arm, stopping him. “Your bathroom,” he said, barely louder than a whisper. “Is it like this, attached to your bedroom?” The boy wasn’t looking at him, but his fingers tightened on Ilya’s sleeve as his scent sweetened.

“Yes,” Ilya said.

“And, um, if someone used your shower, then when they got out, they’d be where your bed is?”

“Yes,” Ilya repeated, but his voice was huskier than before. His hand came up to stroke the side of Shane’s face. “My bed is there.”

“Maybe I should try your shampoo after all.” Shane glanced up at the big Russian. The other man’s eyes were wide, an ocean of blue-green he could practically swim in. Ilya’s black pupils expanded as he watched Shane’s face. “Would that be okay?”

The scent between them changed. Shane’s fruity spice mixed with Ilya’s campfire, becoming something smoky and sweet.

“Da, Shane,” Ilya said. He leaned forward, letting Shane kiss his cupid bow lips before opening Shane’s mouth with his tongue and licking his way inside. Shane whined softly, bringing his hands up to grab the back of Ilya’s neck as they kissed. After a long moment, Ilya finally pulled away. “Is okay,” he added with a happy sigh as they rested their foreheads against each other. “Is very okay with me.”