Kayden
I came out of the bathroom still towel-drying my hair, wearing nothing but a pair of loose trousers slung low on my hips. Steam rolled out behind me, warm and damp, and I rubbed the towel over my head as I walked into the hallway.
I hadn't expected to see anyone because Rhys had barely spoken more than three words to me since I moved in, so I assumed he would be hiding in his room or pretending I didn't exist.
But the moment I stepped toward the living room, his pine scent hit me.
Great, I thought. He was there.
I slowed my steps, my brows pulling together as I followed the smell around the corner. And there he was in the kitchen—with an apron around him.
Rhys stood in front of the stove, stirring a pot with absolute concentration, like the food might explode if he looked away for even half a second.
The soft light from the kitchen window fell across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the slight crease of focus between his brows. His dark curly hair was tied back loosely, a few strands falling around his cheekbones as he leaned closer to the pot.
I blinked in surprise. Rhys was cooking. Of all people, him. The big bad Alpha.
Back in my own place in the city, I barely even entered the kitchen except to grab cold water or dump takeout bags on the counter. Seeing Rhys calmly doing something so domestic felt unreal.
I took a few steps forward, the wooden floorboard creaking under my feet. I let my eyes trail down his back, noting the way his shirt pulled across his shoulders, and lower to the way his sweatpants hung off his hips and the firmness of his ass.
"What… are you cooking?" I asked, my voice low.
Rhys jolted so hard in response that the spoon flew out of his hand and clattered across the floor. "Shit…" he gasped, grabbing at the counter for balance.
I froze, then instinctively stepped forward. "Sorry—I didn't mean to startle you."
He bent down quickly to grab the spoon at the exact moment I bent down to help. And just like that, we were close—too close that our shoulders brushed.
Rhys's head lifted at the same time mine did, and his blue eyes, which were always cold, dropped straight to my bare chest.
His pupils widened. Not by much, but I saw it. I felt it.
His gaze dragged lower, tracing the droplets of water sliding down the center of my torso, following the line of muscle as if he couldn't stop himself.
Heat flared across my skin, and I felt chills running down my spine. And for a second—just a second—neither of us moved.
I swallowed hard, the air thick with his scent. But then, that toxic defensive part of me, the part that hated how much power he had over my heart rate, kicked in. I leaned an inch closer, a smirk tugging at one corner of my mouth.
"Relax, Captain," I drawled, my voice dropping into that arrogant edge I used on the ice. "I was just admiring the view. I already told you in the locker room during the last practice that you've got a perfect ass. Seeing it in sweatpants doesn't exactly change my mind," I winked at him.
Rhys blinked hard, as if waking from a trance, and snatched the spoon from my hand so quickly his fingers burned against my palm. He jerked upright, his face flooding with a dark, sudden heat that had nothing to do with the stove. He turned away sharply and placed the spoon in the sink as if it had personally offended him.
"No…" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head just once. "No, no, no…"
I straightened slowly, watching the way his shoulders stiffened. He finally spoke again, his voice tight and strained. "You can't walk around the house half-naked. And you definitely can't talk to me like that."
I raised a brow, enjoying the way I'd managed to rattle him. "Half-naked? I'm wearing pants. And I'm just being honest, Rhys. Isn't that what you wanted? No lies? Your ass is perfect, accept that."
"Exactly," he snapped without looking at me, his jaw working overtime. "No walking around shirtless. Especially not like that. It's distracting, and stop talking about my ass."
My lips curved. "To you?"
Rhys's jaw clenched. "To the rules of this house."
I stepped closer, not touching him, just letting the space shrink enough that he could feel my presence at his back. "We're both Alphas," I said softly, a little teasing but mostly honest. "Nothing is going to happen between us."
It was a lie—an obvious one. Even I could hear the unsteady edge in my voice because the truth was something I didn't want to admit—not yet. I shouldn't find another Alpha's scent appealing, and I should hate it.
But Rhys's scent wasn't something I wanted to push away. It pulled at me. Wrapped around me like something I was meant to breathe in. Because I wasn't just any Alpha, I was an Omega hiding in an Alpha's body. And my instincts knew exactly what Rhys was. They'd known since the moment I saw him. It was why I was so drawn to him and why I wanted him.
Rhys finally turned to face me, his expression unreadable, his breathing a little too sharp. "Just follow the rules," he said quietly, and then he brushed past me, refusing to meet my eyes as if looking at me again might crumble the last wall he was trying so desperately to hold up.
"Let's eat!" Rhys announced as he went back to the stove, dishing out what he had prepared, then he set a plate in front of me without even looking at me.
The meal consisted of a simple grilled salmon and roasted greens that smelled incredible, and as I took a bite, the flavor practically exploded on my tongue.
I looked up at him as he sat in front of me. "This is actually really good," I said with a hint of surprise in my tone. "Where did you learn to cook like this, Captain?"
Rhys didn't even look up from his own plate. He just sat there, stiff and guarded, the only sign of his agitation being the way his jaw flexed as he chewed. He did not answer, just a heavy, pointed silence that made it clear the kitchen was for eating, not for getting to know each other.
One thing was for sure: Rhys was clear about not wanting to get to know each other.
We ate in silence, and after we finished eating, I stood up and reached for the plates almost immediately. "I'll wash them," I offered because I needed something, anything to keep my focus from Rhys.
He hesitated. "You don't have to."
"I want to," I answered, brushing past him—and our fingers grazed for the second time tonight. The contact was minor, accidental, but my body reacted like someone had pulled a live wire inside my spine.
Heat shot up my arm immediately, and I felt Rhys stiffen beside me, and for one split second, our gazes locked.
Then he pulled back first and stood up. "Practice starts at six tomorrow," he said quietly, retreating toward the hallway. "Don't be late."
"I won't," I murmured.
He left, and the door to his room clicked shut. Only then did I let out the breath I'd been holding.
My shoulders dropped, and I placed a hand on my racing chest. My body felt wrong. I felt the familiar ache under my skin, the dangerous Omega pull was back, crawling up my throat like it wanted to take over. It hadn't happened in years—not since I started the heavy-duty suppressants.
I groaned and rushed immediately to my room as soon as I finished washing the plates, before my real scents leaked out and Rhys found out I was an Omega.
I pushed into the room and shut the door before I even switched the light on. My hands were already shaking as I searched for my bag and grabbed the injector.
I sat down on my bed and pressed it against my thigh, groaning under my breath as the chemical burn of suppressant flooded my bloodstream.
"Ahhh!" I shut my eyes as I took it all in. Beads of sweat trailed down my face for a few seconds, and then I let out another groan because even though the medication had settled the physical tremors, I still couldn't stop thinking about Rhys.
My body was awake, and it wanted only one person. Rhys.
I lay on my bed, phone in my hand, looking for a distraction.
It was a bad idea because, immediately after I logged into my social media, my notifications exploded. There were thousands of notifications, and my name was trending again with Rhys.
A headline blinked on the screen, catching my attention: KAYDEN VALE SPOTTED WITH NEW TEAMMATE RHYS CALDER — IS THIS THE DUO OF THE SEASON?
I scrolled down, watching my follower count jump by the hundreds every few seconds. People were reposting my story and commenting, "The tension between them is insane."
"Why hasn't Rhys followed him back yet?"
"Rhys didn't post anything about him... Why??"
"They are so perfect together. Team Valder."
Valder? I wondered what that was until I found out it was a combination of Vale and Calder.
"Insane," I murmured.
I leaned back on the bed, staring at a leaked picture of us side-by-side during practice. The photographer had zoomed in on the way Rhys's eyes were fixed on me when he thought no one was watching, making it seem like he cared about me.
My breath hitched, and even though the suppressants dulled the symptoms, they didn't kill the hunger. Not when I could still smell Rhys's scent in my room.
"Oh fuck this," I groaned, my hand sliding under the waistband of my trousers before I even made the choice.
I grabbed my cock while staring at one of Rhys's images on my phone screen and jerked off to the small memories we've shared.
"Rhys," I groaned out helplessly, shutting my eyes as I remembered how he had looked at me, how he had spoken to me, and also how perfect his tight ass had looked.
I came with his name half-bitten on my tongue.
When the trembling eased, I lay there panting, staring up at the dark ceiling. "Oh, Kayden," I groaned into the pillow.
I hated myself for how badly I wanted someone who clearly didn't want me back. Or maybe he did.
And that terrified me more than anything.