Title: Different Dynamics
Author: Tamir Drake
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: June 26
Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex
Pairing: Male/Male Menage
Genre: Contemporary, paranormal, erotica, ABO, sports, hockey, MMM, knotting, hurt/comfort, dirty talk
Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to host Tamir Drake today on the Different Dynamics tour. Check out the exclusive excerpt before entering the giveaway! Enjoy!
Richard doesn’t mind being an omega; all he cares about is playing good hockey, even though it means ignoring the media that tries to rip him apart for it. They don’t think omegas should be allowed on the ice, but he gets along fine. He’s team captain. He can play with the best of them.
The one sticking point is his heats; Richard might be on suppressants, but he’s one of the unlucky ones who still gets a heat every four months or so. They suck to deal with, especially alone, but seeking out a heat partner isn’t an option. The PR nightmare alone keeps him from any kind of hook-up. He can’t risk it. Hockey is all he’s got.
When Richard’s heat comes early while his team is on a roadie, teammate and best friend James helps him out of a bad situation. Tired of hurting, Richard decides it’s better not to go it alone. And James is safe and warm; he’s a great alpha who knows just what Richard needs. When Richard also imprints on big, bad rival player, Dmitry Sokolov? There’s sweet comfort in a three-way with lots of knotting and dirty talk.
Richard might be on cloud nine.
Tamir Drake © 2017
All Rights Reserved
Richard got home, dropped his bags, and said hello to his cat Marshmallow. After checking her puzzle feeder and changing the water in her drinking fountain, he went into the bedroom to collapse. He spared a thought to how he should be eating, or at least hydrating, but all he wanted to do was curl up in bed. There was another game tomorrow, and he needed to steel himself for it, to get to practice and be able to play. Once again, he’d have to prepare to hide all of himself, so he could do what he loved. Hockey was all he had.
It was this thought that finally got him out of bed. He needed to concentrate on hockey—more than that—on being a good captain. That meant pushing through his heat. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it; he usually had at least two heats during the season, even with the fairly regular onsets the implant gave him. Hiding himself meant downing painkillers and libido inhibitors, dousing his clothes in odor-blocker, keeping a constant supply of pads on hand, and playing through the discomfort. He’d gotten good at ignoring the battle of scents on the ice, the distraction of the other players. It was just hockey; as long as he kept his head in the game, it would be good enough.
He dragged himself to the kitchen and pulled a ready meal out of the freezer, not up to trying to cook or calling in. He did his best to drain a bottle of juice while he waited for his food to warm up, hunched over the kitchen island. His mouth felt so dry no matter how much he drank—another side effect of the inhibitors—and his head was pounding.
The microwave beeped and Richard took his food into the living room. Curling up on the couch to eat it, he smiled feebly at Marshmallow when she jumped up next to him. She’d always been able to tell when he was hurting, and her warmth was a small comfort.
His phone rang after a few mouthfuls, flashing James’s face on the screen.
“Hey, Packer,” James said easily. “How are you doing?”
“Uh. Fine?” Richard shifted on the couch. “Just, you know, trying to settle back in and shit.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” Richard said, a little testily. He really didn’t feel well. “I just told you.”
“Can I come by?”
Richard didn’t exactly want company right now, but it was James. “I guess so. Why?”
“Because you went into heat yesterday, and I’m worried about you, fucker. What even happened, by the way? Did your implant malfunction or something? Are you getting it checked out?”
All in. “I might, uh, get heats regularly.”
“Richard!” Richard winced and pulled the phone away from his ear as James continued, “The fuck? Are you shitting me? You get heats on the regular, and you never thought to tell any of us?”
“What would it have mattered if I did?” Richard snapped, glad he was having this conversation over the phone and not in person. “The media can’t know; they already try to rip me apart because I’m an omega. If they thought I didn’t have a lid on my heats, it’d be a PR nightmare.”
“We’re not the media, you shithead. We’re your team. You think any of us would have blabbed your secret? You think we wouldn’t immediately crush anyone who tried?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
There was a lot of inarticulate growling, and then James sighed.
“Okay.” James sounded tired. “If you say it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Still think you should tell the boys, but that’s your choice. Are—are you gonna be playing in the game?”
“Right.” Richard could picture James rubbing a hand over his face. “Well? Can I come by? Do you want my help?”
It dawned on Richard that James was checking up on him. That he was offering to help with the heat again. “What, really?”
“Oh my god you little—yes. How long do yours usually last?”
“Um, like a week.”
“Okay. I’ll pack a bag and be over in a few.”
Richard stared at his phone.
“You want to what?”
There was a pause. “Or I could…not,” James said eventually. “If you don’t want me to?”
“No! No, I…I’m just, uh, surprised.”
“You can’t honestly tell me you’ve never had someone take you through a heat before, Packer.”
Richard was silent.
“Oh my fucking god I will be there in half an hour.”
James hung up.
Richard stared at his phone again and wondered what had just happened.
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Tamir has the tendency to write feelings into everything, no matter how filthy. He’s not all that sorry about it. Visit him on his Website.
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