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Aurel
As the only Omega in an all-Alpha hockey team, the best thing to do is keep my shit together around the others. But I got lucky, I presented as a recessive. Still pathetic for a man, considering you don’t always find a male Omega, let alone a recessive one. Well, I don’t give a rat’s ass about that, as long as I don’t have to kiss my dream of becoming a hockey star goodbye. Not even my family knows their first son they believe is an Alpha is actually the exact opposite. I couldn't break my sick mother's heart with such bullshit. So I buried it. I chug down the last bit of beer in my bottle and slam it on the wooden table harder than I meant to. Yeah, I’m already in a fucked-up situation, yet I still let those assholes drag me here for some stupid drinking competition with the Polar Titans. Ice Reapers and Polar Titans will be clashing on ice for the first time, and somehow it starts with shots of whiskey. As the captain, I couldn't say no… not when Neylan thinks he can beat us because he's a rare-born dominant Alpha. “After all, we’re all Alphas.” Treyvon’s voice agreeing to it echoes in my head, and it pisses me off all over again. My best friend, a dominant Alpha, never misses a chance to go against Neylan. The bastard bullied both of us back in high school. If only he knew I didn't turn out to be an Alpha like the both of them. My eyes sweep across the room, damn it… I need a smoke. “Where are you going, Captain? Drunk already?” A hand taps my shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turn to see Gray, our goalie, grinning like an idiot. “Uh, not really. I will be back in a minute,” I mutter. Drunk? Not even close. Unlike other Omegas who release pheromones, go into heat regularly, and are easily affected by Alpha pheromones, I am different. As a recessive Omega, my body barely reacts the way it is supposed to. My heat comes once a year, unpredictable and weak compared to others. Most times, I feel… nothing. So a few bottles of beer do absolutely nothing to me. I push myself up and walk toward the bathroom, weaving through bodies, ignoring the noise as it fades behind me. But the moment I step inside, I freeze. “Pl… please stop… I… I can’t breathe…” A muffled female voice slips out from the bathroom. My brows furrow, and then a sharp, choking mix of lemon and sandalwood hits the back of my throat. My hand flies to my nose, my eyes widening as the scent twists my insides. This… this is the first time I'm actually picking up an Alpha’s pheromones. “Neylan… let go…” The voice moans again, but it comes out weaker. My head snaps toward the source. “The hell? I didn’t force you. You came on your own and accepted the money. Just a little bit more…” What? Neylan? That bastard left his team just to drag an Omega in here? Anger flares through me instantly. I slam the door against the wall, the loud bang echoing through the bathroom. Neylan turns. My gaze shifts briefly to the girl. A ginger-haired girl, she's barely conscious, her body slack like she is about to collapse. Damn it! This idiot is in a rut and can't even control himself properly. His pheromones are suffocating her. Taking two long strides as my hand balls tightly. My fist connects with his jaw with a sharp crack, the force sending him stumbling back, away from her. He hisses, grabbing his face as he winces. “Fucking Alphas,” I grit out. “You dogs, can’t you see you’re choking her with your damn pheromones?” I turn to the girl, crouching slightly. “What were you thinking, following an Alpha in rut? He's clearly gone mad.” She responds with a sob, scrambling to gather her clothes before rushing out of the bathroom. How could Omegas be so reckless? She's not even in heat, yet she's offering herself as a sacrifice to a monster. At least she got out. I straighten, exhaling slowly, already turning to leave. But a hand clamps down on my shoulder. Before I can react, I am yanked backward, my body slamming into something solid. Suddenly, breathing becomes difficult. The scent from earlier choking me. Neylan leans in, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Where the hell do you think you’re going after making her leave?” My body shudders. His grip tightens. I look up, and my stomach drops. His icy blue eyes are now blood red. His pheromones flood my senses, pressing down on my chest until I'm struggling to get air into my lungs. Shit! This shouldn't be happening. I have never responded to an Alpha like this. So what the hell is going on? My legs feel weak. I open my mouth, trying to pull in air, and regret it immediately. “You smell even better… a recessive Omega?” he murmurs, his voice rough, almost disbelieving. “I don't know who the fuck you are… but you smell like warm honey melting over ripe peach—soft, sweet… and it’s driving me insane.” The words send a sharp heat straight through my body. Damn it. This stupid Alpha-Omega instinct. I hate it. I hate how my body reacts, how it betrays me, how it pulls me toward someone I should hate. My skin burns. My thoughts scatter. He smells addictive. And the worst part? I want him. I really fucking do. And at the same time, I know I should not. “Hey… hey… get away from me.” But it comes out as a soft, breathless moan. His tongue drags slowly along my neck, and my body jerks in response. “Are you sure about that?” he whispers, his tone mocking me. “Pathetic thing… I can see your body moving on its own.” I clench my fists, frustration and anger bubbling under my skin. Right now, I really want to hit him again. Why did I get involved? Damn it. My body is not listening to me.AurelThe puck skids against the boards, a sharp spray of chopped ice hitting my shins. I dig the edge of my skates into the gray ice, my lungs burning as I switch directions and hard-shoulder our defenseman into the wall. The impact rattles my teeth."Watch the stick, Aurel!" Miller barks, spitting a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the ice."Move faster then," I say, my voice raw. I don't wait for him to stand up. I chase the puck down, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps that turn to fog in the freezing arena air. I need the friction. I need the bruising. If I stop moving for even ten seconds, my mind glitches right back to the hotel room with Neylan.Coach blows his whistle, the sound piercing the massive, empty stadium. "That's wrap! Hit the showers. Finals will be here soon, boys. Don't lose your heads before the first whistle."The guys slide toward the bench, their skates groaning against the ice. I stay out there for an extra minute, breathing heavily, my knuckles tight aro
NeylanShit, my skull feels like it will explode from the loud vibration of the bass thudding in the VIP bar. Neon red lights slice straight through the haze of vape smoke and expensive cologne, painting the booth in jagged, bloody streaks. It’s a private buyout, so my teammates are acting like total fucking animals without a single filter.To my left, our starting defenseman throws his head back with a loud roar, his fingers tangled in the hair of the Omega kneeling on the floor between his knees with his dick buried deep in the omega’s throat. The kid doesn't even flinch as the crowd cheers around them. Across the table, two linesmen slam their empty shot glasses down, splashing amber liquid over the wood while three models shriek and dump a fresh bottle of tequila over ice. In the dark corners of the lounge, shadows shift against the leather couches, raw groans cutting through the music as a heavy, suffocating wave of sweet slick hits the air.I keep my eyes glued to my own glas
ElyceThe scent of imported white tea and expensive leather fills the private room of the salon. It cost a small fortune to buy out the entire afternoon slot, ensuring the stylists cleared the floor for just my friend and I. I lean back against the plush velvet washing station, my eyes closed as the hot water soaks into my hair. Next to me, Chloe is scrolling through her phone, her fresh acrylics clicking against the screen."I'm telling you, the oversized minimalist vibe is completely dead," Chloe says, tossing her head back as her stylist applies a glossy treatment. "Everyone is doing tailored archival looks now. Did you see the winter preview? The structural coats are insane. If you aren't wearing custom leather to the Jordan gala tomorrow, you might as well stay home.""Please," I scoff, keeping my eyes closed as the stylist rubs oil into my scalp. "I already had my dress flown in from Milan last week. It’s structured, sharp, and costs more than most people's cars. The Jordan nam
NeylanMy father doesn't even look up from his desk when I walk in; he just slides a folder across the wood like a death warrant. The study smells like tobacco and old money, a suffocating mix that always makes my chest tight."Sit," he commands.I ignore him and stand right in front of the desk, my hands stuffed into my pockets. "I don't have time for a lecture, Father. I just got off the ice.""You will make time," Richard Astor says, finally raising his cold eyes to meet mine. "Mr. Jordan called my office. He is putting a literal chokehold on our multi-million dollar merger. The entire deal is dead because of the stunt pulled at the engagement."I keep my face flat trying not to blink. "The fire alarm cleared the room. The press thinks it was a venue crisis. We controlled the narrative, just like you wanted.""We delayed the narrative," my father snarls, leaning forward. "The Jordan family isn't stupid, Neylan. They won't keep quiet after receiving your all time pregnancy test resu
Aurel The Jordan Group corporate logo on the folder looks like a target painted directly on my coach's desk. With a sleek, silver crest stamped on black leather, catching the harsh fluorescent lights of the office. "Sign it, Aurel," Coach says, tapping his knuckles against the desk. "I don't need my captain sitting in the stands when the finals start." Minutes ago at the Wraiths' private training facility, Coach intercepted me right outside the weight room, dragging me in here before I could even strip off my sweaty training gear. Now, this mandatory corporate sponsorship agreement funded by the Jordan family is sitting between us. "This is bullshit," I say, leaning my hands on the back of the chair. "The league doesn't just drop random contracts middle of the week." "They do when the money is this big," Coach says, sighing. He slides a pen toward me. "The Jordan family is funding the league’s upcoming finals gala. They are pouring millions into the venue, the broadcast, ever
NeylanThe locker room is in absolute chaos after our win against the Montreal Sabers. Guys are shouting, tossing wet gear onto the floor, and blasting music that rattles the metal benches. The air smells like sweat and ice shavings. Someone throws a wet towel that hits the wall next to my head.“I give you a reason to be happy, yet I get a towel thrown at me?” I growl as I pick the towel and send it straight back to Ken.“Yoo, sorry Captain.” I chuckle before he is grabbed by another team member.I stare down at the heavy MVP puck in my hand. It feels weightless. It means absolutely nothing compared to the silence on my phone resting on my thigh.I press the screen. No new notifications. Nothing.The Titans just secured a massive victory, putting us right where we need to be for the finals, but I feel hollow. I unlock the phone again, scroll to my texts, and stare at the empty chat thread, expecting a snarky, competitive text from Aurel. Usually, after a game like this, he’s the fir
AurelI lean my elbows against the cold metal railing of the balcony, exhaling a long, slow stream of smoke into the night air. The glowing orange tip of my cigarette is the only bright thing out here in the dark. Honestly, if it weren't for Coach Picasso dragging me here as his plus-one, I would h
NeylanThe collar of this tuxedo grips my neck like a chokehold. I stand near the glass table inside the VIP holding room, tugging the stiff fabric away from my throat. Across the room, my dad and Mr. Jordan sit side by side, their voices a low drone as they point at a stack of financial documents.
AurelI walk into the grand hall right beside Coach Picasso, the heavy noise of clinking glasses and chatter hitting my ears instantly. The entire space is packed to the brim with rich assholes, wealthy board members, and flashing media cameras for Neylan and Elyce's official engagement party.As w
Aurel I push open the heavy doors to the management building, my sneakers squeaking loudly against the floor as I head down the main corridor. My hands are shoved deep into my pockets, my fingers twitching slightly against my keys as my anxiety is low-key hitting the roof right now. Reaching the







