Chapter 1
We didn't even kiss.
Seeing the words typed out makes something in Felix's stomach drop.
For a second, he worries he'll be sick right there on the floor, waiting for the elevator.
The idea of doing so, and being caught there by Leonid, is
mortifying.
Enough for Felix to shake off the sudden wave of nausea and delete the words before he somehow accidentally hits
Send.
Felix shoves his phone in his pocket and tries to forget about it.
But the choice to forget about it is taken out of his hands when Felix sleeps like shit and wakes the next morning in his own hotel room feeling much as he had for those long moments outside of Leonid's, only this time he can't seem to shake it.
It's not only the vague nausea that doesn't resolve even when Felix tries to help it along by making himself puke before getting into the shower that morning - it's like he's being hollowed out from the inside from somewhere deeper than his physical organs.
But other than the overall feeling of
emptiness
, it's nothing at all like he's going into heat.
At least Felix can be relieved about that.
So he does what he usually does when he doesn't feel well - which isn't often, but elite athletes get sick on occasion like everyone else - he pushes through it.
He's supposed to spend most of the day traveling with the rest of the team, to the extent that he hadn't planned to hit the gym that morning anyway.
For once he doesn't regret that even a little.
He doesn't think he can stomach much, so instead of taking his usual jumble of pills with solid breakfast, he swallows them down with an apple juice box from the hotel minibar.
It's a carefully formulated combination of omega suppressants intended to address of variety of the typical annoying omega things that Felix needed to avoid dealing with for the sake of his hockey career.
Some of the high-end active ingredients in the drugs prevent Felix from going into heat or even preheat until he tapers off of them, which he only does once a year during the off-season.
A few of the others do something to mute his omega scent to practically the point of nonexistence.
Combined with the scent-masking soap and lotion he uses, along with all of the other precautions he's developed over the years - to the vast majority of the PHA and all of the general public - Felix passes as a beta.
It's something Felix's parents have always supported, even encouraged, ever since he presented during his freshman year of high school.
Throughout the years his various coaches have been in on it, too, helping Felix hide his designation, advocating in private for him based on his talent, how obviously fucking good he was.
His playing has always spoken for itself, for the most part, as long as no one outside of those who absolutely
to be are aware he's actually an omega.
Marlow knows, naturally.
He and a few other alphas at the top of the corporate ladder were quietly informed before Felix was drafted.
While there isn't a
ban
on omegas playing in the PHA, technically - not since the 'alphas-only' regulation was done away with in the eighties - Felix is the first.
It's just not the sort of thing omegas are any good at, goes the conventional wisdom.
Defying conventional wisdom is something Felix used to think he could be proud of.
Then he and his parents were invited to meet Marlow for the first time in private at the PHA headquarters.
There, Marlow intimated to them more than once that, down the road and however many years from now, if Felix fulfilled his potential as the kind of player everyone was hoping he would turn out to be
kept his nose clean, the league might even see the potential advantage to having him 'out' as an omega.
One day.
New market opportunities with the changing times and all that, Marlow said, but they didn't want to get too far ahead of the times.
Then he clapped Felix on the shoulder, and Felix tried not to think about how that sounded like it might be worse than masking as a beta for the rest of his career and beyond into retirement.
After his shower, Felix can tell something about his scent still seems...
off.
Subtle, but enough for him to notice.
At first, he thinks it might be the smell of
alpha
, somehow still clinging to Felix after several hours and two thorough, scaldingly hot showers.
Because, oh yeah - considering just whose
knot had been buried in his ass
last night - someone else who knows Felix is a secret omega is none other than his biggest rival in the league:
But no - whatever is off with Felix, it has nothing to do with any traces of Sorokin stuck to his scent, because Felix doesn't smell like the alpha at all anymore, not even a little bit.
His scent is entirely his.
Just...
more bitter than usual.
Imperceptible to anyone else, he tells himself, thanks to his meds.
Weird and annoying for Felix, sure, but he can ignore it.
He slaps some scent blocker patches on his neck anyway, as he finishes getting dressed, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head.
Even if someone notices them and is impolite enough to ask, it's easy to use his illness as an excuse, since it's not uncommon for anyone - even betas - to wear scent patches when they want to avoid unusual overstimulation to their senses in close proximity with others.
If Felix uses them more than most, it's not enough for anyone to have ever noticed or commented on it.
At the airport and on the flight to Kingsport, none of Felix's teammates express curiosity about the patches, if they even see them, though a few ask if he's feeling ok or had a late night.
Felix waves off their friendly concern with a minimal amount of words, shrugging.
Not great, but fine.
Yeah, late night.
Knew I'd be able to catch up on my sleep today
The carefully constructed Captain's facade takes more effort from Felix than usual, but he doesn't let his smile falter, keeping his tone perfectly neutral so as to dismiss their worries without making anyone feel dismissed by him, or like he might be
lying
, or
avoiding
anything.
On the plane, in the seat beside Felix, Perry elbows him in the ribs.
"You look like shit, man.
Sheesh.
Rough night?" he asks, tone light-hearted.
Even though Perry is smiling, there's uncertainty in his eyes as he takes in just how bad Felix looks this close up.
Felix has been able to keep the rest of the Ironclads in the dark regarding his omega status, with the exception of Perry.
By Felix's own choice,
thankfully
He 'came out' to his best friend near the end of their first season on the team together, after talking the decision over with his mom and dad.
Being able to trust Perry alleviated a little of the burden weighing on Felix's shoulders, for one thing, and Felix's parents thought it made strategic sense to have a genuine ally on the team and in the locker room.
He tries to return Perry's smile now, forcing his face into the approximation of one.
Well - I feel like shit, honestly, but it's only because I had too much to drink last night.
Hangover, you know?"
Perry's eyebrows raise.
"Even I can let loose sometimes." It's close enough to the pattern their conversations tend to flow in on the rare occasion Felix actually
drink too much or does anything outside his strait-laced norm.
But right now, Felix doesn't think he has the energy to engage in much of their typical banter.
"For real, I think I went a little too hard.
Could be coming down with something, but I hope it's not that." Hood still up, he leans his head against the plane window and lets his eyes close.
Before he tries to catch a few hours of sleep, without really thinking about it or opening his eyes, he asks Perry, "Is it just me or is this plane weirdly freezing?
Beginning to wish I would've brought a jacket."
"No?
Feels fine to me."
Felix wraps his arms around himself and sighs before he can stop himself, breath fogging against the plane window.
"Felix...
are you sure you're okay?"
Felix swallows heavily and nods.
He can practically
the concern radiating off of Perry.