Romans & histoires My Hockey Alpha Free

"I play hockey because it’s the only place I can bleed without starting a pack war. Don't mistake my restraint for weakness." "I never said you were weak. I said you were distracted." "Look at me, Jack." I looked. His eyes were a burning gold, the pupils slitted. The raw power of the Blackridge Alpha was vibrating in the air between us, a physical pressure that made it hard to breathe. "I’m not distracted," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "I’m focused. And right now, you’re the only thing in this city that smells like hope." "Hope doesn't solve murders."

Alphas did not beg. But I was not an alpha. I was an omega who had spent her whole life being told she was not enough, and hockey was the only thing that had ever made her feel like she was, and I would kneel in front of a thousand alphas if it meant I could stay on the ice.

I tried to dart to the left, using my center of gravity to slip past Larsen. Graves was already moving. He lunged forward, his massive hands grabbing my shoulder and shoving me brutally back against the steel dumbbell rack. The hard iron rods bit into my spine, making me let out a gasp of pain. Before I could strike back, Miller moved like a flash. He reached out. Grabbed my left arm, twisting it down toward the bench. His grip was iron, crushing my skin right above my wrist. I thrashed violently, using all my hockey strength to pull, but against three elite Alphas without my pads, I was completely overpowered. Larsen grabbed my shoulder, pinning my upper body flat against the steel rack.

Now, to make matters worse, Mason was playing sick psychological games with me, leaving me bound to him by a mysterious mate mark neither of us wanted. Closing my eyes, I felt the dull, familiar throbbing behind my temples. My pockets were heavy with prescription suppressors, but even high-grade drugs were barely keeping my rotting scent contained. I was a defective Alpha running out of time, fighting a silent war inside my own body. Every single stressor brought me one step closer to total physical collapse, and hiding my weakness from my team was draining whatever energy I had left.

she answers, giggling and I snuggle closer. Oh, I’m so glad that this ended up well. “Well, I guess this is your mom?” the Alpha remarks cheekily, holding out his hand for my mother to shake. She takes it hesitantly, gulping as I look up at her. “I’m Hazel. Hazel Angel.” I am surprised at her lie coming out of her mouth so smoothly. “Nice to meet you, Hazel. My name is Alpha Noah, and those are my Beta Daniel, his sister, and his little family. Your daughter just saved their lives and I wanted to return the favor by inviting you two to join our pack. What do you think?”

We kept at it…stopping only for grueling push-ups on the ice, then right back to full-ice scrimmages. I skated until my muscles screamed, my lungs burned, and my vision blurred….Finally, the physical agony was enough to make her scent of cherries and vanilla fade from my senses. "Alright guys, good job today!" Coach shouted, blaring his whistle three times to signal the end. Every single one of us collapsed onto the ice, chest heaving ignoring the freezing chill seeping through our gear. Laughter broke out mixed with our pants. ‘Yeah, this is good.’ I lived for this. The violence of hockey took my mind off life's chaos, pushed my body to its limits, and gave me a good rush of adrenaline that

he challenged. The four Alphas—Jason, Cable, Ardolf, and Barwolf—were dragged into the center by Hudson’s warriors, their hands still bound. They struggled to maintain their dignity. Hudson’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous amusement as he addressed them once more. “I’ll be fair,” he said, his voice dark with promise. “If you defeat me, my army is yours. My pack will belong to you. Isn’t that an amazing deal?” His smirk widened, the offer almost mocking in its generosity, as if the very idea of them winning was laughable.

I kept my balance, my steel blades carving a sharp arc into the ice as I turned to chase the play into the corner. The game turned dirty within the first five minutes. It was not normal hockey. The Boston players were not chasing the puck; they were chasing the honey scent. Every time I went near the boards to battle for a loose rubber disk, two or three opposing Alphas would crowd into my space. They did not try to lift my stick. They aimed their gloved hands high, their forearms pushing hard against my chin, trying to scrape their gear across my neck gland to disrupt the permanent mark.

Victory is theirs. Reporters and fans swarm the players, shouting questions, cameras flashing, but Rhett and his teammates rush off toward the locker room before they can be cornered. ~Rhett~ Hockey has never been my dream. Sure, I’m passionate about the sport and I enjoy playing it, and with my werewolf abilities, it’s always been easy to stand out, to earn the reputation I have today. But my real dream, the only dream that matters is to guide my pack, to become the Alpha I was born to be. That’s why I’m here.

It was Alpha, and boy, did it smell really amazing, like home. Allen shook her head as she tried to concentrate on Ohm's scent, which was barely there, and before she could get it, she was tackled on the ground and was now laying on her back with another wolf pinning her down. The wolf was huge, and it smelled like the same alpha she had been smelling before. The wolf's fur was black with a reddish tint, and his eyes were gold. He was gorgeous, and Allen had never seen a wolf like that before. When Allen looked up, she saw the Alpha growling at Allen and showing his canine teeth. Allen whimpered and closed her eyes. She knew this was a bad idea. She should not have run after Ohm, but of cour