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Ever since his parents had passed, Scott was a lone alpha. He never knew what pack bonds felt like; he never learned how to identify emotions through scent. His instincts had been long dormant, like they never existed at all. Scott knew that it wasn't normal. He was a powerful alpha, anyone he had ever faced on the ice could tell you that. Yet, he never bared his teeth or flashed his scent. He never growled or used his alpha voice. He just existed. Stood taller than anyone else. Never backed down when someone tried intimidating him. He had never been afflicted by an omega's pheromones or scent. He was just there.
Other alphas growing up hadn't looked too kindly on him. They pushed him around, called him a knot-sleeve, tried using their alpha voices on him; the less he reacted the more aggressive they became. He became the punching bag for any angry alpha. His bones were broken, blood drawn. He had bite scars scattered over his body.
The bite scars were always the worst. Bones healed and claw marks barely left a scar, but those bites were permanent. Alpha's have a special chemical in their fangs — alpha venom. Using alpha venom when biting was a voluntary choice, but renominates of the liquid always lingered in the hollows of fangs. Evolutionary, alpha venom is used for mates and packs, to form pack bonds. The feeling of pack bonds forming was supposed to be this magical feeling. It was supposed to be a symbol of family, of pack. A physical mark left on one another as a constant reminder of those who loved you. This chemical could also be used to harm. After an alpha bite you need to solidify the bonds, or risk the ties severing. A bond being severed is said to be one of the worst pains anyone could experience.
Scott would give that statement a hundred times over. He had been hurt in so many ways, bones broken, too many concussions to count. He had been heartbroken by his parents, by teammates, by people he had thought were his friends. All of that combined was barely close to the feeling of a severed bond. It was common knowledge that severed pack bonds could be fatal, and that the best way to survive them was to focus on the remaining bonds. Scott didn't have those 'remaining bonds'.
It was the only time anyone had ever interfered with the bullying. An alpha in his class, Jason, had been picking on him for months. He wasn't a powerful alpha, especially not against Scott, but he was a strong leader. He had a small gang of alphas and betas that hung on his every word. One day he decided he had been done with Scott. He bit Scott. That wasn't unusual for him. Fangs and bites were common in alpha fights, Scott had been bitten enough times to know that by now. Only, this time Jason let his alpha venom travel through the hollow of his fangs and into Scott's flesh.
As the venom entered Scott's blood he didn't know what to think. It had been painful, sure, but the pain was swiftly overpowered by the pure ecstasy that followed. It white hot and melted the world away. It was amazing in every sense of the world. The pain throughout his body as it was kicked around vanished. Scents flooded in for the first time, five of them. One for each person surrounding him. It was overwhelming in the best way.
Then, Jason cut the bond. For him, it was simple. For him, it was painless. The person who severs bond doesn't hurt. Severing bonds typically only happens when someone is about to die, hospitals have trained staff to help people sever the bonds before a pack member dies. Divorce lawyers help people sever the bond at the same time, doing that dulls the pain. If a single member from the pack wanted to leave, it was fine. The pain would dilute itself between the pack members, leaving barely any hurt it be felt.
So, Jason didn't hurt when he cut the bond. Scott did though. It hurt him. Like every bone in his body had shattered. Like his skin had evaporated then dosed in lemon juice and salt. Like a piece of his soul was torn out of his body then burned, before filling the remaining space with something only described as cold. Then it all went black, Scott remembered thinking he had died before he awoke in a hospital bed.
He woke up alone. No parents sitting at his bedside, no 'get well soon' cards, no balloons or flowers, nothing. It took 2220 seconds for a nurse to check on him. Scott had stared at the clock on the other side of the room and counted the seconds. Every second of those 37 minutes felt like an eternity. 37 isolating minutes of nothing but scratchy hospital sheets, a beeping heart monitor, the stench of bleach, and the clock he had stared it. He would never forgot that clock.
This incident had changed everything for Scott. He was 17, old enough to be sent away again. Live in a hosts family's house and play in the junior hockey leagues until he eventually got drafted to the San Francisco team. Three years after being drafted they had figured out the reason for the bite scars, and why he was so defensive about joining a their pack. They traded him. First to California. Then to Detroit. Then to Vancouver. Then, finally, to the New York Admirals.
The Admirals knew, the whole league knew, but they didn't care. He played good hockey; that's what they cared about. None of team cared if he joined their pack — it wasn't like he was the only person in the league to not join their team's pack — they left the option there for him if he ever changed his mind but they never pressured him. Scott always liked that about the Admirals. They never pressured anyone into anything, whether it was going out after a game, or joining them for a simple pack movie night, you never had to do anything.
It was definitely healing. Most of the Admirals were alphas, most of the league were alphas, but they weren't cruel or vindictive like the alphas he had grown up with. There was even an omega player on the team. There were only 12 omegas in the whole league, and one of them was on this team. On Scott's team.
Scott never joined the Admiral's pack though. He always too scared. The feeling of that pack bond being severed, the thought of giving someone the power to do that to him again? He couldn't fathom it. The Admiral's were still mostly alphas at the end of the day, he had seen what happened when a player that was part of the pack got traded. He had upset the owners, they traded him and threatened a lawsuit if he and his fiance stayed part of the Admiral's pack. So, they cut the ties. Scott couldn't risk that. He had been traded before, he could be traded again.
He had resigned himself never to join a pack, and to be fair, he didn't. He had built his own. Scott never intended to start a pack, but then these two idiot kids came along. It took years before he bit them. He might not have ever done it if it weren't for a certain omega he met at a smoothie shop. When he met Kip his wants changed. He wanted a pack with Kip.
Kip had been open to it, starting a new pack with Scott. He left his pack, and exchanged mating bites with Scott. It was the best and scariest night Scott's of life. He had gone into rut and Kip into heat. Scott knotted the omega, crying out as his teeth sank into the mating bite on the back of Kip's neck. Kip's teeth sinking into the Scott's mating bite on his chest came with most euphoric feeling of safety and love Scott had ever felt. He loves Kip, and Kip loves him. Enough to help guide him through a panic attack despite Scott's knot still firmly in him.
Scott loves his homemade pack. There's 10 of them, a rather small number for a pack, but they like it. They would probably like it more if they could all live together, but right now they can't. With Scott, Kip, Eric, and Kyle living in New York, and Ilya, Shane, Troy, and Harris living in Ottawa, it was difficult. Ryan and Fabian moved between the two cities, often bringing scents for the others with them.
It was ideal for Ryan and Fabian to move between the two, Fabian for his music career, and Ryan for his beta cycle. Beta cycles are a new thing in society, and people are definitely still adjusting — some alphas and omega online had claimed it as a hoax or placebo, but it was real. Every three-ish months a beta needed to be with their pack. They needed a mixture of taking care of their pack-mates and being taken care of. Each beta was different with what they needed, Ryan liked taking care of the pack but Kyle always preferred being taken care of. Kip quietly thought that it was because of their partner's designations, with Fabian being on omega, and Eric being and alpha. It didn't really matter though, as long as they were with their pack they were happy.
Kyle was always jealous of Ryan though, Ryan spent half of his cycles with the New York half, and the rest with the Ottawa half. Kyle had most of his cycles with just the New York half, except when they were all together either in the summer or when everyone had a free weekend. Ryan and Fabian tried to make sure he was in New York for Kyle's cycles, it wasn't always possible but he tried. Kyle was always thankful for that.
Scott loves how his pack takes care of each other. They never needed him to baby them into caring about the others, they just did it. He had read a lot online about how packs built from scratch often needed help from the pack alpha into caring and protecting each other, but his pack never needed that. It was a massive relief on Scott's part, it wasn't on him to help them bond with each other. They had all wanted to bond with each other, and while some had been more anxious about it then others, deep down they all love their pack. If anyone ever doubted it then they just had to feel at their pack bonds. The love that flowed through them was unmistakable.
Scott couldn't be more grateful for his pack, but sometimes he wondered if it was a mistake. Not because of any of his pack-mates, but because of the press. None of them had announced that they were in a pack at all, but the layered bite marks on everyone's wrist's were obvious. Some had it luckier than others. Eric's wrist looks almost the same from when he was in the Admiral's pack, it was only upon closer inspection that the old bites had faded and been replaced. Ilya, Shane, and Troy had been assumed to be in the Ottawa pack, the other pack hadn't minded the assumption, so the press started laying off of the three. Scott had been so incredibly grateful towards them. Since Ilya and Shane were outed they hadn't known much peace from he press, it had heavily died down but the public were always craving for whatever information they could get their hands on. The press also didn't really care for anyone's mates, but Scott? The press was all over him.
No one had more attention over packs then Scott had. Ever since he was first drafted he would be asked about it. When he would join a pack? Why wasn't he already in a pack? Did he like being a lone wolf? Then the marks were spotted on his wrist.
It was a normal post-game interview. They had won, Scott had scored one of the two Admiral's goals and assisted on the other. It was chill, regular, something he had done a hundred time. Then the sleeve on his left arm pulled up just enough to see the still-red teeth marks around his scent gland. The room had exploded in question, cameras flashed at impossible speeds, the smell of confusion and curiosity were overwhelming to Scott's senses.
Scott had only just developed the ability to smell other people's scents, usually it was amazing. He was able to read the ice like never before, smelling player's next moves, smelling their anger or joy at the end of match. It was exhilarating. Scott's favourite scent was always Kip though. His soft and sweet blueberry had surprised Scott. Stepping into that smoothie shop and getting a noise-full of the omega's scent, it was the first time since that day with Jason he had been able to smell anyone. Then Kip looked at him, it was like nothing he had ever felt before. Scott would do anything for that blueberry scent, and for the omega it came from.
The scent of Scott's pack though? That was a whole other ball-game. The scents of his pack-mates all blended together to create one unique scent of home and safety. It was this scent that currently floated around them. They were at Shane and Ilya's cottage in Ottawa, all cuddled up together in a nest that Shane had made for them all.
Everyone else was asleep. Kip had moved to lay on Scott's chest, shoving Shane off of his own chest in the process. Harris and Troy had moved down, now Harris lay his head on Scott's stomach, and Troy was draped over Harris, one of his arms was curled around Scott's waist. Eric's leg still entangled with his own, though there was a suspiciously Kyle-like hand now gripping his leg as well. Shane lay with his head nuzzled into Kip's back, Ilya was spooning him, his face pressed against Shane's mating bite. Fabian was an unmoving force, somehow able to stay laying across all of them as his head still lay in Ryan's lap.
The soft breathing across the pack merged with the sounds of the lake nearby, and the birds singing softly. The wind was soft, howling occasionally. Little snores erupting from various pack members.
It was everything Scott had ever wanted from his pack. Tranquility and domesticity. Safety wrapped up in nine other people. He loved them, and they loved him back. He was no longer a lone wolf, but a pack alpha. He wouldn't trade this feeling for the world, he would do anything for his pack. The best part was, they would do anything for him as well.