The Captain Claim

Four

CALLUM

I left the locker room the second Lila's voice cracked through the celebration like glass shattering.

The music had been too loud. The guys were spraying champagne everywhere, shouting over each other about the win, about how we'd finally done it. Championship title. Everything we'd worked for all season. I should have been right there with them, riding that high.

But then she walked in.

Lila Morgan.

I knew who she was. Everyone did. She was one of those students who studied and worked. She worked mostly in the registrar's office, always buried in paperwork, always rushing somewhere with her arms full of files. We'd never really talked. Maybe a nod in passing. Maybe nothing at all. She existed in my periphery the way hundreds of other students did.

Except now she was standing in our locker room, shaking, her voice breaking as she said those words.

"Explain how you're kissing my sister?"

The room went silent so fast it felt violent.

I watched Ethan's face drain of color. Watched Trisha turn around with this expression that wasn't even apologetic. Just annoyed. Like Lila was interrupting something.

My wolf stirred.

It wasn't the usual restlessness I felt before a shift or during a full moon. This was different. Sharper and more urgent.

Then it hit me.

The pull.

It slammed into my chest so hard I actually took a step back. My wolf didn't just stir. It woke up completely, suddenly, violently aware of her. Of Lila. Standing there in the middle of the locker room with tears streaming down her face and her whole world falling apart.

Mate.

The word echoed in my head, whispered by something primal and ancient and absolutely certain.

No.

No, that couldn't be right.

I stared at her, trying to make sense of it. She was human. Completely, utterly human. I could tell by her scent, by the way she moved, by the simple fact that she clearly had no idea what was happening. If she felt the bond, she would have looked at me. She would have known.

But she didn't look at me once.

Her entire focus was on Ethan. On Trisha. On the betrayal unfolding in front of her.

Mate, my wolf insisted.

I needed to leave. Now. Before I did something stupid like walk over there and insert myself into a situation that had nothing to do with me. Before my wolf decided to make this everyone's problem.

I grabbed my jacket and slipped out through the side exit while Lila was still confronting them. The hallway was empty, the sounds from the locker room muffled behind the heavy door.

I leaned against the wall and tried to breathe.

This was insane.

Lila Morgan was my mate, and she had absolutely no idea I existed.

Well. That wasn't entirely true. She knew I existed. She'd actually screamed for me to pass the puck during the game. But knowing someone exists and knowing them are two very different things.

My wolf was pacing now, agitated and demanding. It wanted me to go back in there. Wanted me to protect her. Wanted me to tear Ethan apart for making her cry.

I shoved off the wall and started walking. If I stayed near that locker room, I was going to do something I'd regret. The bond was too new, too raw, and my control was already shaky from the adrenaline of the game.

I ended up at Murphy's Bar downtown. It was the kind of place that didn't ask questions, that didn't care if you wanted to sit in the corner and drink alone. I ordered whiskey and tried to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do now.

The universe had just handed me my mate.

And she was in love with someone else. Hurt by him too.

I was halfway through my second drink when the door opened and she walked in.

Lila.

My wolf went absolutely feral.

She looked wrecked. Her eyes were red and swollen, her hair was a mess, and she moved like she was barely holding herself together. She slid onto a stool at the bar, three seats away from me, and ordered something fruity and weak.

I watched her down it in one gulp.

The bartender raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

Neither did I.

This felt like fate. Like the universe was laughing at me. I'd tried to put distance between us, tried to give myself space to think, and here she was. Right in front of me again.

My wolf was practically vibrating with the need to get closer.

Go to her, it urged.

I shouldn't. She was hurt and vulnerable and probably not thinking straight. The last thing she needed was some guy hitting on her at a bar.

But I wasn't just some guy.

I was her mate.

Even if she didn't know it yet.

I picked up my glass and moved down the bar, taking the stool next to hers.

"It's cute watching someone try to drown heartbreak with juice," I said.

She turned, and up close, the bond was even stronger. It thrummed between us like a live wire, invisible to her but absolutely devastating to me.

"Bad night?" I asked, because what else was I supposed to say?

She laughed, bitter and hollow. "You could say that."

I signaled the bartender. "Want something stronger?"

"Yes. Whiskey."

Two glasses appeared between us. I slid one toward her, and when my fingers brushed the rim, my wolf nearly howled.

Just that small, incidental touch was enough to make my heart rate spike.

She didn't react. She didn't feel a thing.

Of course she didn't.

We drank. We talked. Sort of. She was guarded at first, deflecting, but the alcohol was loosening her up. Making her bolder.

Then she said it.

"All I want to do is get him back. Make him feel what I felt. Make him watch while I..."

She didn't finish the sentence, but her eyes did.

They looked right at me, dark and determined and a little bit desperate.

My wolf perked up immediately, interested in a way that made my control slip dangerously.

But I couldn't do that.

Using the mate bond like this, taking advantage of her pain to get close to her, felt wrong. It felt predatory.

"Hell no," I said. Even though I hardly meant it.

She looked hurt. "Why not?"

"Because you're hurt and drunk and looking for a band-aid. I'm not that guy."

"You're a playboy. Everyone knows it."

That stung more than it should have. "That's not the same thing."

"How is it different?"

"Because those girls know what they're getting into. They're not using me to get back at someone else."

There was also a part I wasn’t telling her. There was a particular season I had to be more or less a w***e. Heat season. Without a mate, my wolf was uncontrollable. But it seemed like that was about to change. All of that was about to change.

Her cheeks flushed. Whether from anger or embarrassment, I couldn't tell. "So what? You have standards now?"

"I have a type."

"And what type is that?"

"Girls who actually want me. Not girls who want to hurt their ex."

Liar, my wolf hissed. She's our mate. Take her. Claim her.

I ignored it.

Barely.

We kept talking. Kept drinking. The bond kept pulling at me, making every word she said feel significant, making every glance feel loaded with meaning.

Then she said, "You."

I went very still. "What?"

"Something I've always wanted to do. You."