บททั้งหมดของ Pucked On Ice : บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

KaelThe evening air was cool as we piled into the big team bus headed for Millbrook. The guys were already loud — some talking shit, others with headphones on, a few half-asleep before we even left the parking lot. I greeted a couple of them as I climbed aboard and dropped into the seat next to Oliver.“What’s up?” I said, bumping fists with him.Oliver grinned and shook my hand firmly. “Same old. Ready for the grind?”He was one of the few other Alphas on the team. Just the two of us, really. Everyone else was Beta — solid, reliable, and no drama. No Omegas, of course. They were considered too fragile for this level of hockey, with too many liabilities with heats, slow recovery, and scent issues. The league kept them out for “safety reasons.” Fine by me. I mean, it made things simpler too.I settled in, slipped my headphones on, and let the low bass drown out the chatter as the bus rumbled to life.The drive was long. Darkness settled quickly, headlights cutting through the road ahe

KaelI stared at the screen, my pulse kicking up.Me: Are you sure you’re on heat? Have you experienced it before?Riven: No.Me: Then what makes you think you’re on heat?The typing bubbles appeared, disappeared, then appeared again. When the message came through, I had to read it twice.Riven: I noticed I was very horny. And when I checked… I was slick as fuck.Fuck.The image flashed in my mind instantly — Riven alone in his apartment, legs spread, fingers sliding through his own slick, face flushed with embarrassment and need. My cock thickened further, pressing uncomfortably against my shorts. I shifted on the bed, trying to ignore the rush of heat that followed.Me: Woah… you’re wet?Riven: Yeah.Me: That’s one thing Omegas like me have to deal with.Riven: And I don’t want to deal with that. I just don’t want Alphas around noticing I’m on heat. That’s why I need the suppressants badly.I ran a hand down my face, trying to think straight. The rut from earlier had mostly settled,

RivenThat morning, I woke up to a few soft knocks on my front door.I froze in bed, heart jumping. Then I heard May’s cheerful voice from outside.“I was asked to get some suppressants for you. I’ve left them right outside. Have a good day!”I cleared my throat, trying to make my voice sound different — higher, squeakier, anything but my normal tone.“Thank you so much,” I called out, myvoice cracking awkwardly. “I appreciate it.”“You’re welcome!” she replied brightly. I heard her footsteps receding down the hallway.I waited a full minute, then crept to the window and peeked out. May was climbing into a waiting taxi. The moment the car drove off, I hurried outside, grabbed the small brown paper bag from the floor, and slipped back inside, locking the door behind me.“Finally,” I whispered, sighing in relief as I opened the bag.Inside were the heat suppressants, exactly as prescribed. I grabbed a bottle of water, popped two pills, and swallowed them quickly, just like Dr. Elara ha

KaelIt was a good night for the Vipers.We had beaten the Razorbacks 5-3, and the whole team was buzzing with victory. After the game, we decided to celebrate the old-fashioned way — drinks at a lively bar downtown. The place was loud, music thumping, and lights flashing. The boys were laughing, clinking glasses, reliving the best plays of the night. Some had already pulled in a few girls who were dancing and chatting with them, the energy high and carefree.It was late, well past midnight, but no one cared. We had earned this.I sat at the bar with a cold beer in hand, listening to Oliver tell an exaggerated version of the game-winning goal. One of the girls who had been dancing with the group slid onto the stool beside me, flashing a bright smile.“Hey, you’re Kael, right? The one who scored that beautiful assist in the second period?” she asked, leaning in a little too close, her perfume sweet and heavy.I gave her a polite nod. “Yeah, that was me.”“You were incredible out there,

RivenThat morning, I woke up to sunlight filtering through the curtains and the faint smell of breakfast drifting from the kitchen. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, still half-asleep, and unlocked it.The screen flooded with notifications.Posts, news articles, videos — all about Kael.“Vipers Player Kael Dravin Hospitalized After Late-Night Altercation”“Kael Dravin Stabbed While Stopping Assault”“Heroic Act or Reckless? Vipers Star Rushed to Hospital”My stomach dropped. I sat up quickly, scrolling through the posts with shaking fingers. There were blurry photos of the alley, police tape, and one clear shot of Kael being loaded into an ambulance, blood visible on his shirt.He had been stabbed.What? How? When? Didn’t we speak last night?I bit my fingernail hard, staring at the screen. Worry twisted in my chest like a knife. Was he okay? How bad was the wound? Did he play the whole game with that injury?I paced the room, phone clutched tightly. Should I call him? What