Page 113 of Traded

“Baby.” I slide my arms around her, carefully avoiding her make-up to whisper in her ear. “As if I’m going to let anybody else take you out to dinner.”

Especially not any of the fuckers going to this thing. Half of the NPHL will be there. Pecking her bare shoulder as a safe zone, I back up to let her slip on her insanely high shoes. “Yeah, I’m gonna need to bring my stick.”

She taps my stomach as she waltzes out and pulls the door to her nest open, cheeks still flushed. “No fighting tonight.”

“No promises.” I follow after her. “I haven’t fought at a game in weeks. I’m overdue.”

Nothing to do with having an ongoing injury that I’m trying my best to hide. My last gloves off scrap was with fucking Mercer at Sponsor Day, and I’m still paying for it now. “Hey, give me a sec.”

I slip back into my room and head for the dresser, rifling through the top drawer. Every single packet of drugstore painkillers is empty—dozens of them buried between socks, and I slam it shut with an irritated sound.

My eyes slide to my discarded running shorts.

The dark bottle feels cold as I tug it free from my pocket, and I turn it over in my hands.

The team wouldn’t sign off on a prescription I couldn’t have. Minaiscautious. I always figured it was a good thing.

Until I got an injury that’s derailing my life. And Rosie’s, if I don’t fix it.

Before I can think twice, I pop the cap and swallow one.

Hopefully this has more of an impact than the last lot.

“Carter.” Rosie taps on the door. “Car’s here!”

“Coming!” I shove the bottle in my pocket.

This is my last chance to make it through, and I don’t intend to waste it.

Chapter thirty-three

Teenage Dreams

“Get your damn hands off her,” Carter growls.

Benji wraps his arm around me and squeezes. “Can’t I be happy to see our girl? Feels like it’s been weeks.”

“Mygirl.” But Carter’s grinning too. “Asshole. There’s a stick in the cloakroom. I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Here.” Liam presses a glass of wine into my hands. When I look at him questioningly, he gives me a small, quiet smile. “You like this one.”

I take a small sip as he watches. “Thanks.”

Stomach flipping uncomfortably, I look away from him and survey the room. Blackwater Arts Hall has been overtaken by sports players, the hundreds of paintings on the wall illuminated beneath soft spotlights. Several statues join the milling guests as they walk around the dozens of circular tables looking for their names.

“Will you stop?” Liam’s mutter makes me turn back. He nudges Jonas, who’s craning his neck to look at the open doorway. “Put your fucking neck away. You look like a giraffe.”

“Sorry.” Jonas looks annoyed. He casts a brief glance at Benji, who’s fallen deep into some sort of heated discussion with Carter a few feet away. “I hate this.”

“She’ll be here in a minute. You know we couldn’t walk in together.” Liam sighs. “Few more months and it’ll be sorted with the NOC.”

Hisemergency exemption.I wonder how Lauren feels about being dropped off on the next street along. I spot a table plan and head over to it, searching for her name.

It’s three tables away from us, next to Ness and the rest of the PR team. Somebody else comes up beside me, and I shift to make room for them. When he leans in to look closer, I get a side hit of his scent.

It’s like walking into a forest. Crushed leaves and soft moss with a little woody sweetness woven in that reminds me of sticky, fresh figs. “Mac?”

The tall alpha turns. Mac’s dark red hair is styled back, his black tux fitting flawlessly. I find myself swallowing as deep green eyes sweep over me. There’s clear appreciation there, and heat creeps up my neck. “Lass. Fancy seeing you here.”