They touched gloves before taking up their positions in the sparring ring. Lucas was a good head taller than Oliver, and his arms were so long they could bridge the space with little effort. If he wanted to overpower Oliver with sheer size, he could. Alpha’s had it done to him before, and he’d seen their desire to dominate him when they learned he was a sigma. His scent seemed to trigger something in some alpha's most feral instincts. He’d gotten pretty good at knowing when to play the beta, the omega, and the alpha—so good, in fact, he didn’t quite know who he really was anymore.
Still, he didn’t sense hostility from Lucas. Instead, he sensed something teasing and playful, and it made him want to be playful back—like a puppy, snapping and pawing at a litter-mate. A littermate he wanted to lick all over—stop it.
The whistle blew, and Oliver completely missed the punch heading for his cheek. The air whooshed around Lucas’ glove, the worn leather grazing Oliver’s his temple as he snapped his head away just in time to avoid the blow. “Pay attention, Reed,” Lucas huffed, bouncing on his toes. The alpha’s lip peeled back as he stuck out the tip of his tongue. Mocking him.Bastard.
Oliver followed the jab with a feint to the left, then the right. Lucas’ eyes followed him, answering the footwork with a blinding left hook. Oliver ducked, using his lower centre ofgravity to move under the arm and land a fist in Lucas’ armpit. He followed it up with a knee to his ribs for good measure. Feeling pleased with himself, he swiftly felt the air explode from his lungs as the alpha delivered a blow that saw him smashing down onto the mats. Bastard had punched him in the gut, then swept his legs, leaving him starry eyed and staring up at the ceiling.
He coughed, the mats only going a small way to dampen the impact of the throw. The alpha grinned down at him, clearly forgetting that his leg was still tangled around Oliver’s ankles. Oliver punished the momentary distraction by twisting and striking the back of Lucas’ knee with the top of his foot, bringing him down onto the mats next to him. Lucas was still grinning as he rolled onto his front, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow.
“That was dirty,” he said, a small coil of hair escaping its tie.
“You left yourself open,” Oliver panted. “Your legs were fair-game.”
Lucas’ eyes darkened for a fraction of a second, and Oliver felt as though he were looking down the barrel of a loaded gun. The alpha bore down on him, their noses almost touching as the heady scent of sweat and sex slammed into Oliver’s every pore.
“Why do you smell like a fucking fever-dream?” Lucas growled low in his belly.
Oliver was like a trapped mouse, silent and unmoving as the alpha leaned into him. He was vaguely aware of the gathering crowd, so turned his head to break Lucas’ intense gaze. Pushing his glove into the alpha’s chest, he created enough distance that the haze of—whatever that was—dispersed. Lucas’ expression quickly turned back to indifference as he hopped to his feet. Clearing his throat, he held out a gloved hand, pulling Oliver upright but not lingering in his personal space.
“Nice moves,” Rhys said, slapping Oliver across the back. Clearly, neither he nor the betas noticed the sudden spike oftension, but a few of the alphas shifted uncomfortably. “Another round?”
Panic surged in the pit of Oliver’s belly, so he shook his head and said, “You know,Dai? I think I’d really like to seeyoufight next.”
“Yeah! Go Daddy go!” Rhys’ twins chanted in unison.
Oliver sprintedtowards home when the session ended. Watching Lucas fight had made him harder than a priest in a convent, and the last thing he needed was for his body to start blasting pheromones out into the world.
His body ached, and his skin itched, which meant he needed to shift—to let the sandy furred wolf take charge for a bit. So, instead of heading back down the canal towpath, he took a left out of the car park and jogged towards the public shifter park. Families gathered on the green, making the most of the evening sunlight as the seasons pushed through the cold snap of winter and into the hopeful air of spring.
Slipping into a rickety little changing room, Oliver undressed, peeling the damp t-shirt from his sweaty body, and popping everything into a locker. He shivered as a familiar sensation prickled the soles of his feet and fizzed up his legs, all the way to the top of his head. Fur sprung through his skin, covering his flesh as his body shifted into the shape of a wolf.
Blessed relief washed over him as the pent-up energy of the day poured away. Shaking out his wolf-body, he tapped his paws on the wooden floor, feeling the ground beneath his feet. It’d been far too long since he’d shifted. The trial of Clinton Greer had sapped his time and energy like a bothersome leech. Butnow his vision was sharper, his hearing clearer as finally,finally,he could be himself for a little while.
Then he was running,sprintingthrough the woods like a feral thing. It was so fuckinggood, feeling the wind in his fur and the earth beneath his paws. He leapt and skidded over a grassy bank, his eyes bright as the wolf within revelled in the sights and smells of the open air.
The sun had dropped below the horizon by the time he finished running. His barrel chest heaved and sweat soaked his under-coat as he finally padded back towards the changing rooms. Thankfully, most of the families had left, with the evening air too chilly for young pups, leaving Oliver to shift back in relative peace.
Shaking out his fur for the final time, he was about to step into the rickety hut when the door of the next hut along burst open. He flinched, instinctually dropping his head as another shifter stepped onto the grass.
The wolf before him was, in a word,huge. Obviously an alpha with their black fur and hazel eyes looming like a hell-hound in the darkness of the park. Oliver skittered back, his paws crunching over dead leaves and drawing the attention of the alpha. They locked eyes for the briefest of moments, before the wolf turned its massive head and stalked towards the woods.
Oliver satunder the cold shower for a long time, eyes glazed as he thought of nothing. Heat still coiled in the pit of his stomach—despite the blast around the park—and he was beginning to wonder if it would ever go away. He’d tried pressing a bag of frozen peas to his abdomen, but that was just unpleasant. He’d had a cup of tea, which only made him warmer.He’d even tried masturbating, but the image of Lucas looming over him justwould notleave his mind. So eventually, he settled on a cold shower and the impending threat of the flu.
Little by little, his senses returned, as did the heat coiling in the pit of his stomach.Fuck. Fuck fucking fuck. He distracted himself by cleaning the shower from top to bottom, arranging his bottles of shampoo, shower gel and soaps until his bathroom looked as though he had a severe case of OCD.
Trudging back into the bedroom, he checked his phone only to see a string of text messages from Matteus.
‘Are you alright?’The first one read.
‘Is something wrong?’One minute later.
’Something’s wrong, isn’t it?’
‘Answer your fucking phone, Ollie.’
‘Fuck it, I’m coming over.’
Multiple missed calls and different emojis interspersed the messages. Oliver loved his brother, he really did, but in the twenty-nine and a half years they’d walked the earth, he’d never cursed their twin bond more. He just had enough time to throw on a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms before his doorbell rang. Looking down at the fresh erection stirring in his boxer shorts, he growled, “Will you piss off?”
