Fake Dating The Alpha Hockey Player

Kaidora's POV 

Perfumes.

Herbs.

Potions.

The holy trinity of my survival. Without them, my disguise will crumble and the werewolves around me will know exactly what I am. I can't let them see that I'm not one of them, so even on a night like this, I have to coat myself with scented oils and bitter herbs just to mask my human scent. 

“Kai! Are you ready?” Amber whispers from the doorway. 

I quickly shove the bottles into my small cabinet and click it shut. My heart pounds as I glance once more at the locked cabinet. My secret. My only shield. 

“Coming.” I turn and walk towards the door. 

I agreed to go with Amber to the arena tonight. Not because I care about hockey, hell, I don't even know the rules. But because blending in require sacrifices. And nothing screams suspicion more than the wolfless omega who never shows up where every other student does. 

So here I am, walking into the predators’ den with nothing but perfume and oil as armor. 

The arena is already buzzing when we arrive. The hockey fans are screaming and cheering like their lives depend on the puck sliding across the ice. 

Amber pulls me along, her eyes bright as she waves at the other she-wolves who only stare at me as if I don't belong here. 

Oh, maybe I do not belong. After all, omegas are treated like trash here in Highcrest College and to them, I am just a wolfless omega from some forgotten pack. Weak, harmless and insignificant. 

Amber is the only real friend I've made here in the last six months. She's the only one who doesn't treat me like trash. Sometimes, I wonder if she would treat me with the same care if she ever found out what I am. 

I keep my head down, telling myself to breathe. One wrong look, one slip and every one of my plans will shatter. 

I lower myself into the second row seat beside Amber. She keeps screaming every time a hockey player passes the puck into the net, but I'm not on the same page with her. 

My focus has drifted as always. I am constantly watching, searching every face, every scent, every careless laugh because I'm hunting for the wolves who rip my family apart. 

The crowd roars again when a player scores. This time they are chanting someone's name. 

I tilt my head to the side of the rink, and then I see him. Zane Grayson! 

The golden boy of Highcrest College, the untouchable star hockey player and the future Alpha of the Blue Crest Pack. Our eyes meet for a millisecond, and his smirk falters. Something unreadable flashes in his stormy grey eyes. 

I roll my eyes, tearing my gaze away from him. Then I pull the cap of my oversized hoodie over my head, shielding my face as the smell of my perfume stings my own nose. 

Amber bounces beside me, clapping like Zane Grayson had just cured the world's ailment. 

“He's amazing, isn't he?” She shouts over the noise. 

“He's arrogant,” I mutter, drawing in my lower lip. 

Amazing isn't the word I will ever use to describe a werewolf. Amber rolls her eyes, but I ignore her, my eyes already scanning the crowd again. 

The game ends and the rink floods with laughter, while my own heart tightens in my chest. 

There's no progress today again, even after six months of being in Highcrest College in search of my parents’ killers. I rise to my feet, the strange smell of different werewolves hitting my nose. I hate that smell because it reminds me of why I am here and why I can't afford to slip. 

Disappointment washes over me as a sigh slips from my lips. 

“Let's go—” I say, but Amber has already grabbed my wrist, moving through the crowd before I can finish my words. 

“Move, weakling!” A she-wolf sneers as she passes by my side, her eyes flashing with disdain. 

I lower my head and let the insult wash over me. That's what they expect from a wolfless omega. Submission, silence! But inside, my chest burns with rage, hotter than any fire. 

Suddenly, someone shoves me hard from behind. And that's when it happened. 

Hard chest. The stench of cold sweat and wet pads that makes my stomach churn. 

I collide so hard with someone that I nearly stumble to the floor. But strong hands shoot out, gripping my shoulders because obviously, my hands already grab something else for support.  

The joker of electricity that courses through my veins makes my gaze snap up in an instant. Then my eyes lock on stormy grey eyes that narrow like they can see straight through my carefully built disguise. 

Zane Grayson! For a moment, it feels like the world has stopped moving. 

Gasps ripple through the air.  Whispers float around us. 

“Does she have a death wish?” 

“How dare she touch him that way?” 

“I guess even a wolfless omega has her eyes on the star hockey player.” 

My stomach twists in disgust and my jaw clenches. What the hell are they talking about? Are they too blind to see that someone had pushed me? 

“Let go!” Zane growls, his eyes burning with rage and something else I can't place. “If you wanted my attention, there are easier ways than this, omega,” he spits, his jaw clenched. 

My eyes go wide in disbelief. Really? Isn't he the one holding my shoulder too hard now? I exhale sharply through my nose, trying as much as I can not to snap at him. 

I tell myself that I am an omega and we submit, instead of snapping or talking back at the high-ranked werewolves. 

“You are the one holding me right now.” My voice is soft and barely above a whisper. 

Then Zane lowers his hardened gaze slowly and my eyes follow his movement. 

My eyes widen in horror and shock when my eyes finally land on what he's talking about. 

His dick! Jesus Christ! 

My right hand is holding Zane's manhood and what's worse is that he's getting hard. 

Heat rushes to my face in an instant and I swallow a hot, bitter rush of something that tastes like humiliation and fury as the crowd bursts out laughing.