Ice And Blood: The Coach's Secret Omega

Asa

The loud music is causing me a painful headache. The boys are happy today, celebrating, and with good reason—after all, we just qualified for the conference league after beating Lakeview 5-3. But it was a narrow escape, if you ask me. Still, as captain, I can't miss this victory party.

So I get up and head to the bathroom to get away from the loud noise. I reach the bathroom and close the door after making sure I'm alone. I choke down two blue pills, and the copper taste of them almost makes me puke.

The soft knock at the door makes panic flare for a second, and I quickly put away the pills before turning toward the door. Toby, the team's equipment manager, comes in looking like he wants to be anywhere but here. Well, that's Toby for you. He flops next to me on the sink with that cute scowl on his face. But he would kill me if he ever heard me say that.

He might be an Omega, but he's not afraid of telling an Alpha to shove it where the sun doesn't shine.

"Your idiot friends are at it again."

"They are not my friends, and what have they done now?" I ask, because I know those assholes are unruly. They think they can do whatever they want since their billionaire parents sponsor the school.

"You see the Titans' team on the other side of our booth?"

I nod. The Titans are the team that finished number one above us. Our bitter rivals.

"Well, I heard Hunter talking to Rylan about how they put a rut-inducing drug in his drink," Toby says, his jaw tight. "And normally I wouldn't care what those idiots do, but that drug is dangerous and innocent people could be hurt. I couldn't go to him because he could attack me, and you are an Alpha, so it's better you handle him. And... I think the drink went to the wrong guy. Some hot middle-aged man who was wearing a suit."

My eyes snap in his direction. Wait a minute, did Toby just call an Alpha hot? He blushes and looks away. I chuckle as I head for the door. God, I leave for a fucking minute and those brutes already cause trouble.

"Asa." I turn, looking back at Toby. "I saw him heading to the upper-floor bathroom."

Yep. Alpha me would fix this.

I reach the upper bathroom, and the heavy scent of cedar and tobacco immediately assaults my nostrils. The man is leaning against the sink with his back toward me. The moment he turns around, my breath catches. Toby was right—this man is hot. Wait, the fuck am I saying?

What did I even think I would do with this man? Before I can get a single word out, he lunges, pulling me tightly against his massive frame. His pheromones flood the room, suffocating me and making my knees buckle. The fuck is happening?

The air suddenly fills with my own scent. My sweet, hidden Omega scent explodes into the room, my fake Alpha facade gone completely. This can't be happening. With the military-grade blocker pills I just choked down, I shouldn't be able to drop into heat, so how can an Alpha's pheromones affect me this much? No. I have to get out of here.

The man's lips crush into mine, forcing my mouth to part before shoving his tongue inside. My vision blurs as pure, terrifying pleasure courses through my entire body.

"Huh. Look what we have here," he purrs against my lips, his voice a gravelly, dark baritone. "An Omega hiding as an Alpha."

No. No fucking way.

Fear turns into desperate rage. I push him away before punching him hard across the face. But he doesn't even flinch. Instead, he smiles—a cold, terrifying smirk. He pushes me back until my spine hits the wall, pinning both of my hands over my head with one hand, while the other roams my body.

"Get your hands off me or you will regret it," I gasp, trying to spark my dead Alpha command.

The asshole laughs, but the humor doesn't reach his eyes.

"Is this not what you wanted when you put those drugs in my drink?" he growls.

Pure, venomous anger flashes through his eyes before he masks it, that dark smile returning to his face. My head is dizzy and my body is getting unbearably hot. These stupid pheromones. He has to be an Apex Alpha. If he doesn't stop releasing them, I'm going to drop into a full, explosive heat right here on the floor.

"Stop. Please."

"You do know that word, huh?" he spits, his voice dripping with absolute disgust. "Well, if you want me to stop so much, why are you grinding your hips against me? A whore indeed."

To my absolute horror, I am moving my hips against his. My body is betraying me. I'm harder than I've ever been in my entire life, leaking precum as he kisses my neck, then my jaw, before finding my lips and crushing them again. A desperate grunt echoes in the air, and I realize with a wave of shame that it comes from me. Fuck. If he touches me any more, I'm going to come in my pants.

Then he ruthlessly pushes me to my knees, shoving his massive length into my mouth. He thrusts in and out, burying himself deep until my throat aches. Tears and saliva drip down the sides of my face, blurring my vision. And then, I come. My body shakes so violently my eyes roll to the back of my head, and a second later, his hot cum shoots directly to the back of my throat.

"What a slut. You came without even being touched," he says coldly. He holds my face in his heavy hand for a terrifying second before tossing me aside like a bag of trash. He turns and heads for the door, leaving me shivering on the floor. My blockers are completely destroyed, and I smell like the exact Omega I tried so hard to hide.

I drag myself up, my hands trembling as I try to wipe my face. And then, I freeze.

Sitting on top of the black trash bin I hadn't noticed earlier is a glass full of untouched liquid. The glass Hunter spiked.

My blood turns to pure ice. The man didn't touch the drink. He wasn't drugged. He shattered my blockers and dominated my body using nothing but his own raw, unadulterated Apex power.

The next morning, the headache from the double dose of blocker pills feels like a spike driven through my skull.

I stand in the center of the university locker room, my captain's jersey heavy on my aching shoulders. Toby stands near the tactical whiteboard, his clipboard clutched tightly to his chest as he shoots me a look of deep, silent anxiety. The rest of the boys are loud and arrogant, still riding the high of yesterday's victory, but I can't focus. My throat still burns.

"Listen up, roster!" the team general manager yells, slamming the heavy locker room door shut. "Quiet down and take a seat!"

The room drops into an immediate, tense silence.

"As of midnight last night, Coach Higgins has officially retired," the GM announces. "But management didn't waste any time. The board has brought in a legendary professional from Europe. He's ruthless, he's a winner, and he's here to take this team to the finals."

I lean back against my locker, crossing my arms, just wanting this meeting to end.

"Meet your new head coach," the GM says, gesturing to the entrance. "Coach Kirill Roman."

The heavy steel door pushes open.

My heart stops. The blood drains from my face so fast the locker room seems to tilt.

Walking into the room, holding a tactical clipboard, is the man from the upper-floor bathroom.

He's dressed in a sleek hockey tracksuit that completely neutralizes his scent to the other Alphas in the room, but there's no hiding his massive, intimidating frame. His sharp features look even more menacing under the harsh fluorescent lights, and his steel-grey eyes are cold and calculating.

I have no idea who he truly is or why a man like him has taken a college coaching job. To me, he's just the powerful stranger who holds my darkest secret in his hands.

Coach Kirill stops at the front of the room, slowly panning his eyes across the players. When his gaze finally lands on me—standing at the center of the room with the 'C' on my chest—a slow, dangerous smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

Without a word, he lets out a subtle, localized flare of his dominant pheromones—a dark, freezing wave of tobacco and frost that only my damaged Omega senses can detect. It wraps around my throat like an invisible collar, a silent reminder of what he did to me against the marble sink.

Coach Kirill locks his eyes onto mine, his smirk widening into a predator's smile.

"Nice to finally meet my new captain," he purrs, his gravelly baritone vibrating through my chest. "Let's see what you're really made of on the ice."