Sugar Cookies

Axel 

We were in the second period, tied two-two against Redwood, and the game had already turned ugly. One of their defensemen had elbowed Tyler into the boards five minutes ago, and I had returned the favor hard enough.

The arena smelled of the usual blood, sweat, ice, and human excitement. And suddenly, through all of it, a mouth-watering smell of sugar cookies assaulted my nostrils. My wolf, Blaze, rose violently inside me, his entire focus on that one fucking smell. 

My grip tightened around my hockey stick as the entire rink shifted beneath my skates. The roar of the crowd faded. The sharp scrape of blades against ice dulled. All I could smell was warmth, sugar, vanilla.

‘Are you mad?’ I growled at him. ‘This is no time to crave for sugar cookies!’ 

I clenched my jaw and forced my focus back to the puck flying toward me. But scent came again, stronger this time, drifting from somewhere beyond the glass. My wolf slammed against my restraint to tear through the crowd to find the source.

A Redwood forward rushed toward me. I should have cut left and stolen the puck. Instead, my head snapped toward the bleachers resulting in the puck slipping past my stick.

“Axel!” Coach barked from the bench.

But it was too late. Redwood’s forward took the opening and shot. The puck flew over our goalie’s shoulder and hit the net.

The arena exploded.

I stood there, shocked, staring at the stands while my teammates cursed around me. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I looking for that one scent through hundreds of faces?

“Captain,” Mason snapped as he skated past me. “What the hell was that?”

I looked at the scoreboard and saw Redwood pull ahead by one. My jaw locked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

I shoved past him and got into position for the next face-off. Blaze did not settle. He paced inside me, claws scraping at my control, every instinct fixed on the scent.

I had never cared what humans did until my father, Alpha of the North Ridge pack, got involved with a human woman. When my mother discovered them together, she committed suicide. Soon afterward, he married that human. While my father betrayed my mother, my human stepmother destroyed our family. It was her fucking idea to send me to a human college. We had to keep our identities hidden all the time.

I hated humans because they were selfish, conceited, and greedy. And I never believed in love or mates because they made powerful people pathetic. 

When the puck dropped next, I moved before the Redwood center could blink. My stick swept the puck clean, and I drove forward. One came at me from the right. I slammed into him without slowing. He hit the boards with a heavy crack, and the crowd yelled my name.

“Hale! Hale! Hale!”

I passed to Tyler, cut behind the net, and waited for the return. Tyler sent the puck back, but another flash of sugar and vanilla hit me before I could shoot. My eyes went to the bleachers again. The shot went wide.

“What the fuck, Hale!” Coach shouted.

A Redwood player laughed as he skated by. “Something wrong, Hale? See your girlfriend?”

I turned and checked him into the glass so hard his helmet snapped back. The referee blew the whistle at once.

“Number seventeen, roughing!”

I skated away before I could do worse. Mason caught my arm near the penalty box.

“Are you trying to throw the game?” he demanded.

I pulled free. “Get your hand off me.”

His eyes narrowed. Mason, my future Beta, was one of the few men on the team who did not flinch when I used that voice. “Then stop playing like a pissed-off rookie. Are you hunting someone out there?”

I looked back at the stands. The scent had thinned thankfully. I was sure it was one of the vendors. 

I sat in the penalty box and forced myself to breathe through my mouth. 

The penalty ended, and I came out harder than before. Redwood tried to crowd me along the boards, but I drove through them. One player went down. Another shoved me from behind. I turned and slammed my shoulder into his chest, sending him backward into his own teammate. I was a storm they wanted to break. 

The referee’s whistle shrieked again.

Coach threw his hands up. “Hale!” His eyes hardened. “Two minutes. Interference.”

I laughed under my breath and went back to the box.

By the third period, the game had turned into a mess. We were down one, then tied, then down again because I kept losing the scent and finding it at the worst possible moments. Every time it drifted close, my wolf lunged. Every time it vanished, anger burned through me until I hit the nearest opponent harder than necessary. Goddess, I needed to find that vendor and ban him or her from entering the arena. 

Tyler took a nasty hit near the boards with two minutes remaining, and something inside me snapped. The Redwood defenseman who hit him tried to skate away. I caught him before he crossed the blue line. I drove my shoulder into him, and he crashed into the boards. He dropped to the ice, groaning. The whistle blew, but I was already fuming. “You touch my team again,” I said, breathing hard, “and I’ll break you.”

Mason skated up behind me and grabbed my jersey. “Axel, enough.”

I took a deep breath as Coach yelled from the bench, and I knew I had pushed too far. 

The final minute began and the fucking scent came again. This time I pushed down my wolf with every control I had. I locked every muscle and chased the puck instead. 

Eventually when the puck hit the net the arena erupted. North Valley led by one. We won, but barely.  

My team crashed into me, shouting and laughing, but I pushed through them and looked toward the bleachers. Students were leaving their seats, flooding the aisles, rushing toward exits. I inhaled, searching for the scent of sugar cookies. But it was gone.

Furious, Blaze snarled so violently that pain flashed through my skull.

“Axel!” Ashley’s voice reached me as I stepped off the ice.

The cheerleader squad captain was waiting near the players’ tunnel in her cheer uniform, blonde hair falling over one shoulder, red lips curved like she already knew I would stop. Ashley always stood where people could see her near me. She liked the attention almost as much as she liked believing she had a claim.

“Rough game,” she said, sliding her hand over my arm. “You looked like you wanted to murder someone.”

“I still might.”

Her smile widened. “Should I be worried?”

I looked past her toward the thinning crowd. “No.”

She followed my gaze. “Who are you looking for?”

“No one.”

Ashley’s fingers tightened slightly on my sleeve. She noticed too much when it came to me. That was one of the reasons I should have ended this arrangement months ago.

I looked down at her. “Are you coming to my room or not?”

For a moment, satisfaction lit her face. There it was, the answer she had been waiting for. She leaned closer, her perfume choking me. “Of course.”

My wolf recoiled. And that was the first. Something he had never done before. 

Ashley noticed me stiffen, but before she could ask, Coach called me.

“Hale. Locker room. Now.”

I nodded at Ashley, and went inside. Inside the locker room, the celebration died the second I entered. My teammates were half-dressed, still flushed from the win, but Coach stood near my stall with Athletic Director Grant beside him. Grant did not come to the locker room unless something had gone very wrong.

Grant shouted, “What were you thinking, Hale?” 

I dropped onto the bench and started untying my skates. “If this is about the penalties, save it. We won.”

Grant hissed, “You barely won!” 

The room went silent.

Grant stepped closer. “Two roughing calls, one interference penalty, one illegal hit after the whistle, and three referee warnings. Redwood has already filed a complaint. The conference officials reviewed the footage before you even left the ice.”

I leaned back against my locker. “And?”

“You’re suspended effective immediately.”

What the fuck?

Some teammates cursed under breath. 

“But we won!” I said quietly, my temper too close to the surface for humans. 

Grant glared at me. “You should be happy you’re not off the team!” 

Fury blasted inside me. Not at Grant. But at that fucking vendor with sugar cookies. 

Grant continued, “But there is one way you can earn your place back soon.”

I raised my eyebrow, suspecting he wanted me to hook up with his niece. 

“I’m offering you a deal,” he said. “And if you want to touch the ice again this season, you’ll take it.”