The Price of Ice: chapter 2 & pre-order!

The Price of Ice is ready to pre-order on Amazon (coming April 13th), though it will be available direct April 6th both here and on my Payhip store.

If you missed it, chapter 1 is here.

His team may own his body, no one can claim his soul. Cover of "The Price of Ice" by N.J. Lysk

And here's a bit more of Kallen in the meantime ;p

Chapter 2

Getting assigned to live with the family of an older teammate was normal, but Kallen thought most rookies got asked, at least. He was pretty sure they’d just assumed that as an omega, he’d need a nurturing environment, which… Just wasn’t true. He’d left home at sixteen and lived with strangers for the last three years. Why would he need home-cooked meals and a busy house full of children now?

He didn’t mind the Johnsons, really. They were all nice and way too busy with their own lives to care much about what he did. If he wasn’t going to be in for a meal, he texted Merle about it.

It was a little odd that he’d slept with Merle’s husband and they both knew it, because outside sports omegas didn’t have to put up with that kind of thing. But it wasn’t like Kallen was the first team omega her husband had helped out, and she must have been a pro at compartmentalizing or something, because she was pretty nice to him from the start and that hadn’t changed after his first heat with his teammates. If anything, when he’d got back home, still wobbly, she’d offered him some cake. There was always cake at the Johnsons’ since Merle ran a successful bakery downtown and was always experimenting at home, but it was still a nice gesture.

Kallen had been so rundown that he’d even tried a bit. It’d been a bit too sweet for him, but that had helped him with the heat hangover.

It probably helped that Johnson was completely in love with her and showed it. He’d kiss her any time he walked into a room she was in, unless one of the kids was screaming and then he’d do it once he’d taken over and calmed them down. It was sickeningly sappy.

And lovely.

Not that Kallen wanted Darryn Johnson making eyes at him, the guy was thirty-three. And Kallen had more than enough alphas. Too many, really, that’s why they had to take turns.

But it still made him feel like an intruder to see them like that, tender and unworried about it, like they could open up with each other without fear of being hurt.

He didn’t have anyone like that, he hadn’t since he’d left home, really. He still called his parents and his brothers often, but it wasn’t the same and even now that he had a generous salary, he didn’t have much time to fly back home. He wasn’t complaining, obviously, he’d worked his arse off to get to play hockey at a professional level and he’d got what he’d wanted.

Maybe next year he’d get a flat of his own too, a little room to breathe, a little less of what he couldn’t have right in front of his face.

***

One thing about living with the Johnsons he loved was the gym downstairs, equipped well enough to satisfy the needs of several professional athletes. As could be expected since there were more than five White Cats families living there. Kallen was happy to work out alone, but he didn’t mind running into his teammates on days off and getting pointers, either.

“Hey,” Levy dropped on the bench across from him, shooting Kallen an easy smile.

The guy was always in a good mood, soft and easy. Even when he was teased, he seemed able to let it slide off his back with no hurt feelings.

Kallen nodded at him in between reps, making sure to control his breathing as he pulled his arms together.

They worked in silence until Kallen signalled his teammate, asking to be spotted so he could lift the heavier weights. Levy left his own reps half done—Kallen nearly apologised and told him to go back and finish his set—to enthusiastically stand above him. He was wider than Kallen, having benefited from alpha hormones, and he could easily help him with the lift off. He stepped back afterwards, but Kallen still had to make an effort to keep his focus on his breathing and his gaze on the ceiling.

As he finished his tenth rep, arms shaking as they hooked the bar, Levy whistled low. "Nice one, man."

Kallen couldn't answer, too breathless, but he kind of wanted to look away even from the tip of Levy's chin above him. There was nothing wrong with encouragement, obviously, but sometimes he found he liked it a little too much from alphas he was... well, fucking. Robert's fault, probably, making him feel all special when it was just an arrangement.

It was a relief in more ways than one when he was done and could lie back and close his eyes. "Thanks," he huffed.

"Any time," the alpha told him, and Kallen felt the heat of his body fade as his footsteps echoed across the room.

***

He'd felt a little weird, but he couldn't let it linger, so when Levy asked him if he was hungry after they were done, he'd said yes and suggested a restaurant.

"Nah, come up to mine, I'll make us something."

"You don't have to—"

Levy snorted. "I know that, dummy, but I like cooking, and it's more satisfying to cook for someone else." He tilted his head, his tight brown curls bouncing. "Come on."

"Um, okay," Kallen agreed, glancing down. "Lemme just grab a quick shower."

"Sure, I'm in 7b, I'll leave the door open."

While he washed off the sweat in a hurry—by now, he was starving—he had plenty of time to think about what he was doing. Namely, meeting on his own with an alpha. But surely it was fine if it was one of his alphas, right? And Levy wasn't like Yrovsky, he wouldn't... He wouldn’t touch Kallen without asking.

It turned out that Levy lived alone, which made Kallen stiffen. But that wasn't because he was afraid, it was because he was jealous. He wondered if they'd asked him if he wanted a billet family too. Had he just turned them down? He couldn't imagine asking, so he let himself in, calling out a greeting to announce his arrival.

For a long moment, he found himself standing in the unfamiliar corridor, hesitating before toeing off his flip flops and not quite sure he was allowed to be there after all.

And then Levy came bounding from deeper into the flat, smiling his welcome. "Hey, you are quick!" His hands were on a towel around his neck, his hair a mess of dripping curls.

"Didn't wash my hair," Kallen explained.

His teammate grimaced. "Ugh, no, can't shower and not wash my hair. Impossible."

Kallen snorted at his dramatics. "I have dry hair, if I wash it too much, it'd be fluff."

Levy eyed his head consideringly. "I guess I'll forgive it. Come on," he added, already turning. "Kitchen's this way."

He started pulling stuff out of the fridge, peppers of different colours, chicken and corn tortillas, then the spice jars started invading the counter.

"How long is this gonna take?" Kallen asked, and it wasn't until it got him a raised eyebrow from Levy that he realised it was kind of rude. "I just mean, it looks really complicated!"

“It's just fajitas,” Levy insisted, deftly starting to chop an onion, knife flying on the board. “My mum taught me how to make them, much better than the stuff you buy.”

"Oh, you're good at this," he said. "I'd cut a finger off if I tried that."

Levy shook his head, laughing a little. "It's just practice, like everything."

"Um, can I do something?" he asked because he hadn't been raised in a barn.

"Sure, talk to me, what's your favourite food?"

"Steak," Kallen told him at once, leaning against one of the stools by the breakfast bar.

It earned him a snort. "Typical, so what sides?"

"Oh, sweet potato," he admitted a little more hesitantly, because he knew it wasn't the healthiest choice.

"Oh, come on!" Levy shot him an indignant look. "You are not feeling guilty about sweet potatoes, are you?"

"It's just... It'd be better to have something green. Like, I do, normally, as a second side, but still."

"Fuck off," his teammate told him easily, dropping the onions into a sizzling pan. "You're in great shape."

And it wasn't a compliment, not really, it was a fact, but Kallen was still relieved that Levy had to keep his eyes on the peppers.

***

They ate at the breakfast bar. The stools were sturdy enough for men as big as they were, even if sometimes their knees knocked together under the table. Levy didn't seem able to stand still for two long, his hands flying around as he talked, barely pausing to chew his food. And the food was great, the spice combination just hot enough to complement the sweetness of the peppers and onions.

"So how do I compare to steak?" he asked Kallen when he caught him looking towards the counter—Levy had added a green salad with pomegranate seeds on top to the meal, but Kallen still wanted a third fajita.

Kallen rolled his eyes at his obvious fishing. "Seven," he determined, intentionally lowballing it. "If a steak is a ten."

"Seven?" Levy demanded, leaning heavily into indignation Kallen could tell wasn’t real. "And you want seconds?"

"I'm a growing boy," Kallen pointed out, but he was already losing control of his grin and soon they were laughing together.

"You are a dick," Levy told him, smiling, but he mustn't have held it against Kallen because he gave him two extra fajitas.

***

His next heat was coming up fast, but his stomach still tightened when he saw the roster on his phone. Management liked to sort it out in advance, he could hardly blame them for that, even if Kallen did his best not to be aware of his cycles. This time they'd be playing a stretch of home games, so they'd do it in the heat room in their own stadium. It meant that afterwards, Kallen could just go home, and he tried to focus on that and not on how restless the room made him feel before his heat got intense enough and he stopped caring about it.

Not every heat with the team had been great so far, but he knew that was normal. Growing pains, doctor Maslow had called it when he’d asked Kallen to report on his experiences. Even so, there were a couple pretty shitty ones that had happened in that very room, so Kallen allowed himself a sigh at the realisation he’d be in it again soon.

He hesitated but then forced himself to open the message. The alphas involved would know, and if it was Yrovsky... It wasn't, which hadn't been out of the realm of possibility, the defenseman had been working hard since the incident in the locker room where McKinley had dared him to do better if he wanted Kallen. Not good enough, apparently, and he could be grateful for that small mercy. The rest weren't all that surprising. Vandy had stopped a goal with his shoulder two games ago, jumping half a foot in the air to manage it and the last time Kallen had seen him in the locker room he'd still had a dark bruise all over the area. The Groddy twins were their first-line defensemen and while they hadn't done anything particularly special that he recalled, they were solid, keeping their goal area safe with hard constant work. Last time, they'd also helped Kallen together, so maybe it was a thing with them. Kallen couldn't imagine having sex in front of either of his brothers, but the twins were oddly close, almost telepathic on the ice and often together off it too.

It wasn't a bad triad. All defence, which meant they were all large men, sure, but none of them had been rough before.

It would be fine.

He dropped his phone on the sofa, standing up. He didn't have time to waste speculating about his next heat, he had some conditioning to do and then he wanted to go for a walk in a nearby park to clear his head so he'd be well-rested for the game the next day.

Pre-order on Amazon!