No Perfect Game (BL)

Noah's POV

It's been a while since I've done this—dressed up, gone out, left the responsibilities of single parenthood behind for one night to remind myself that I'm more than just Oliver's dad and the Coyotes' coach. 

The last time I was in a club, I was newly mated, glowing from the bond, dancing with Logan under the strobe lights of some high-end supernatural lounge. Now, I'm standing in Fang & Whip—a place I never thought I'd step foot in—with Elliot grinning beside me like he's already planning to corrupt me. 

"You're nervous," Elliot says, nudging my shoulder. 

"I'm fine," I reply, tugging at my leather harness. 

"You look like you're trying to figure out where the nearest exit is," he teases, taking a sip of his drink. "Relax. You deserve to have a little fun." 

I exhale, trying to let the bass-heavy music and the crowd's energy wash over me. Maybe he's right. I've been so caught up in being a dad, in practice, in frustration over him, that I haven't let myself breathe. 

Elliot's already dragging me toward the dance floor when I spot him. 

Logan. 

He's sitting by the bar, a glass of something amber in his hand, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show off the strong lines of his chest. He looks relaxed, confident, the dim light catching in his silver hair and making him look... irritatingly gorgeous. 

And, of course, he's not alone. 

The woman next to him is a vampire, no doubt about it. Tall, elegant, curvy in all the ways that draw attention. Her dress clings to her like a second skin, and the smirk she gives him when he leans in to say something is enough to make my stomach churn.

Our eyes meet for a second then his attention is on her again. I swallow the bile that's risen up in my throat. So what he's doing the same as me; enjoying a night out, having fun.

Not that I care. I don't. 

"Earth to Noah." 

Elliot's voice pulls me back, and I realize I've been staring. "What?" 

"You look like you're two seconds away from biting a hole into your cheek. What's up?" 

"Nothing," I say quickly, forcing a smile. "Let's dance." 

Elliot follows me out to the dance floor. I try to focus on the music, on the rhythm, on the fact that I deserve to have fun tonight. Elliot and I move together at first, laughing and spinning under the colored lights. Then he spins into the arms of a stranger and I'm dancing alone. 

I let myself get lost in the moment, pushing all thoughts of silver-haired alphas and their vampire companions out of my mind. 

But then I see them again. 

Logan and the vampire are on the dance floor now, their bodies pressed close, moving in sync. She turns in his arms, her hands sliding up his chest as his head dips to her shoulder. My chest tightens, heat rushing through me—not jealousy, not anger, just... something. 

Elliot dances back into my orbit, notices where my gaze is and immediately follows it. "Damn, I didn't know he was here."

"Yeah," I murmur. "You didn't."

Elliot sees the look in my eyes. The burning, the longing. It's residual. I know Logan Whitaker is an ass and I want nothing to do with him. But Finnian still holds on to the remnants of our broken mate bond. And it hurts. Like an open wound, a festering sore bleeding out all the things we could've been.

I hate him but I can't stand the thought of him with somebody else.

"Noah," Elliot says, his voice tinged with warning. 

"I'm fine," I insist, even as my eyes stay glued to them. 

Logan leans down to say something in her ear, and she laughs, her hand slipping to the back of his neck. My fingers curl into fists at my sides. 

"Are you, though?" Elliot asks. "Because it kind of looks like you're ready to charge over there and pull them apart." 

"I have moved on," I say firmly, though the words sound hollow even to me. "I do not care what Logan Whitaker does." 

It's none of business that he's here. I'm here to have fun, not to play watchdog for the man who shattered my life. Finnian stirs restlessly in my chest, pacing like she senses something I can't. Something's wrong.

Yeah! He has his tongue in her throat, that's what's wrong!

Elliot snaps his finger in my face, causing me to jump slightly. "Earth to Noah."

"Sorry," I say but my gaze is still on Logan and the woman he's twisting tongues with.

Elliot raises a brow at me. "So if he wants to take her to one of the private rooms and get freaky, you're totally cool with that?" 

I don't respond. Because it looks like that's exactly what's happening. 

The vampire takes his hand, her red nails curling around his wrist like talons, and starts leading him off the dance floor. He stumbles slightly and it's that stumble that sets alarm bells off in my jealousy fogged brain. 

One of the pros of loving someone as deeply as I loved Logan is knowing all their tells. I could write a whole dictionary on Logan's quirks and mannerisms; the way his lips sour up when he's irritated, how he presses his thumb to the inside of his pinky when he's nervous, all the many ways a smile breaks out onto his face. One of the cons of loving someone deeply as I loved Logan is being unable to resist the worry that comes with seeing him now.

Logan 'The Lightning' does not stumble.

The woman steadies him, her smirk widening as she whispers something in his ear. Logan doesn't respond. He just follows her like a man walking to his doom. 

My chest tightens. Finnian growls low, the sound vibrating through me. Follow them, She urges. Something isn't right. 

"I'll be right back," I say, already moving. 

Elliot steps in front of me, his hands up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Noah, what are you doing?" 

"I'm just... making sure he's okay." 

"Why?" He asks. "You said you've moved on."

I have! But…

"He's our star player," I snap. "We can't afford him getting into trouble. That's all." 

Elliot studies me for a moment, then sighs. "Fine. Go play babysitter. But don't say I didn't warn you." 

Logan and the woman are gone by the time I manage to pry myself away from Elliot. The club's back rooms are darker, quieter, the music a distant thrum. I weave through the maze of hallways, my nose twitching as I catch Logan's scent mingled with something metallic. 

Blood. 

I quicken my pace, my heart pounding in my chest. Fang & Whip is a place the police should've raided a long time ago, which is why Elliot— being a danger loving idiot— chose it for our night out. But I know the illegal things that go one in these dark halls, sex fuelled by alcohol and drugs, succubi turning humans into sex slaves even though that's against their article of the supernatural treaty with humans.

And I know what vampires are capable of, how they can get so desperate for blood, some will take it without consent.

Finnian snarls. He's in danger. 

I pick up the pace, hurrying through the halls, dodging kissing couples. I accidentally walk in on a scene just as the naked man is climaxing, the voyeurs are so focused that they don't even notice me walk out. The more time I waste, the more anxious I get. I can feel every individual heartbeat, there's sweat pooling under the straps of my harness. I follow Logan's scent up the stairs, the sign says rooftop but I hardly pay attention to it as I take two steps at a time.

The cold air hits me immediately the door flies open and my nipples harden instinctively but I ignore it as my frantic eyes search around the rooftop. 

When I find them, my heart stops. 

 The vampire has Logan pinned against the wall, her fangs buried in his neck, her eyes glowing red as she drinks deeply. His shirt is hanging open, blood dripping down his chest in rivulets, staining the floor beneath him. His head lolls to the side, his silver hair damp with sweat, his breaths shallow and ragged. 

 "No," he murmurs weakly, his voice barely audible. "Please... stop..." 

Finnian howls in rage, clawing at the inside of my mind. She's killing him. Do something!

Something snaps inside me. 

I grab the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall, my hands trembling with adrenaline, and swing it with every ounce of strength I have. 

The metal collides with her head, and she stumbles back with a hiss, blood smeared across her lips. She whirls on me, her fangs bared, and for a split second, I think she's going to attack. My grip tightens on the extinguisher, my breath coming out in shallow bursts. 

"He said stop," I growl, my voice a mix of rage and panic. 

Her eyes flick to Logan whose slumped against the banister, his chest rising and falling unevenly. She wipes at her mouth and sneers, "Not even worth the trouble." 

"Get out of here before I call security," I snap, my voice shaking. 

She hesitates for another moment, her predatory gaze lingering on Logan like she's weighing the risk. Then she pushes past me and walks away, leaving me alone with Logan. 

The moment she's gone, Logan staggers forward and his legs buckling beneath him. I lunge forward, barely catching him before he hits the ground. 

"Logan," I say urgently, my hands trembling as I lower him onto the floor. His skin is pale, his breaths shallow, and the bite marks on his neck are still oozing blood—blood that refuses to clot. 

"Noah..." he slurs, his voice faint and slurred. His eyes flicker open for a moment, unfocused and glassy, before sliding shut again. 

My wolf growls in panic, pacing wildly. Venom, Finnian says. Her venom is in him.

My stomach twists. I've heard stories of vampires using their venom to paralyze prey, to weaken them so they can feed longer. It's toxic to wolves in high doses—disorients us, incapacitates us and slows our healing. If she drank too much or injected too much venom... 

I shake him lightly, my voice cracking. "Logan, stay with me. Come on, you stubborn alpha, don't you dare pass out on me." 

But he's gone already. I press my hand to his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring thump of his heart.

Even unconscious, he leans into my touch, his body trembling against mine. It's instinctual, primal—his wolf seeking comfort, seeking safety. And damn it, I give it to him, even though every second of this feels like salt in a wound I thought had scarred over. 

"You're going to be fine," I whisper, though I don't know if I'm saying it for his sake or mine. "I've got you."