Lahat ng Kabanata ng His Hockey Star by Day, His Forbidden Omega by Night. : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Jules~A short laugh shoots out of me. “Run? Oh, sir, you’re mistaken. I’m just in awe of you. I have no plan of running. None. Whatsoever. I’m here to stay.”Jules you can shut the fuck up any moment now? His gaze feels heavier, almost invasive. I get the feeling that he’s studying me. I try to not let it get to me as I take a few measured steps up to him. “So,” I say, letting my voice drop a few notes. I’m not entirely sure I’m allowed to touch him yet, so I keep a safe distance and flash him the eyes. “What will it be for tonight, alpha?”He leans back into the couch, and I immediately notice the flex of his arm muscles, and the easy brutality in his movements. My eyes are drawn to his hands and I get a very vivid image of those hands manhandling me into any position he sees fit. Fuck. “Shouldn’t we talk about your price, pretty boy?” He asks, and my stomach does a flip at that nickname. I hate when people call me that. I mean, I know it’s true. But I hate it nonetheless.

Jules~ By the time I woke up fromy shift, my entire body felt like I'd been hit by a truck, and for a few seconds, I had absolutely no idea where I was. Then I remembered the club, Enzo, and the private room. My stomach twisted when the memories came rushing back, and I immediately pulled the blanket over my head. “Fuck,” I muttered, rubbing my face. I didn't have time to think about any of that right now because my phone was screaming beside me. I grabbed it and nearly dropped it when I saw the time. “Shit!” I had less than an hour to get to practice. I jumped out of bed, grabbed the first clothes I could find, and rushed into the bathroom. My reflection looked terrible. My hair was a mess, there were dark circles under my eyes, and I looked like someone who hadn't slept properly in weeks, which wasn't completely wrong. Last night definitely hadn't helped. I splashed water on my face and stared at myself for a few seconds before shaking my head. “Get yourself together, Jules

Jules~ The moment Matteo’s car disappears from the university parking lot, I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I let it out slowly and stare at the empty road ahead of me, trying to convince myself that I’m overreacting. I’m not. I know Matteo. I know what that look means, and I know what “We’ll see tonight” means even better. Julia is still inside the rink, Enzo is probably somewhere on the university grounds, and somehow I’m supposed to go back to practice like my life hasn’t just turned into one giant fucking disaster. I rub both hands over my face and take a deep breath. I need to get through the rest of the day. That’s all. I can deal with everything else later. I turn around and head back inside, but I barely make it through the doors before Julia catches up with me. She grabs my arm and lowers her voice, glancing toward the entrance before looking back at me. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” I force a smile. “I’m just tired.” “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “Considerin

Enzo~ I hadn't expected to see Jules again so soon. Yet there he is, sitting across from me at the restaurant as though nothing happened earlier, except the moment his eyes meet mine, his hand immediately moves beneath the table and he wipes the last trace of tears from his face as he turns away from the female sitting beside him. I wanted to see him cry again. His tears looked so beautiful. He straightens and gives me a look that is almost annoyed and I am immediately amused. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were about to.” I take a sip of my drink. “You seem confident.” “I've met you.” His tone is dry, and I watch him pick up his fork again. “You're still crying.” “I was crying.” He takes a bite of his food and chews calmly before adding, “Past tense. Try to keep up.” “You're sarcastic.” “You're observant.” “I noticed.” “Congratulations.” I stare at him for a moment, and he deliberately ignores me. “You wipe your tears quickly.” His fork pause

Jules~The rink is the only place where I can forget about my problems without having to pretend they don't exist, which is probably why I'm already in a better mood by the time I finish tying my skates. My apartment might be a disaster, Matteo might be one bad mood away from making my life miserable again, and Enzo Bellini might have decided that insulting me was a perfectly acceptable way to end our last conversation, but none of that matters once I'm on the ice.Here, I know what I'm doing.Here, I don't have to think about what someone might do if I say the wrong thing, and I certainly don't have to spend every waking moment calculating whether my next decision will make somebody angry. I have a stick, a puck, and a game to play, which is considerably simpler than dealing with people.“Look who finally decided to show up,” someone calls from behind me, and I turn to find Connor leaning against the boards with his helmet tucked beneath his arm. He's one of our forwards, a decent pl