My Hockey Alpha Novels & Stories

“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.

Another one waited in my pocket, just in case. Just in case, if you lose control, you’re dead. Publicly, this place was called the World Hockey Academy—a factory for champions, Olympians, prodigies. Cameras loved it. Sponsors poured money into it. Parents bragged about it. Privately, it was something else entirely. Alpha Academy. An institution built to break wolves and rebuild them stronger. A hierarchy carved in blood, sweat, and enchanted ice. The rink beneath my feet was warded to withstand supernatural force—so Alphas could hit harder, skate faster, and fight without restraint.

To any wolf's nose, I would register as a bland, unremarkable male. I stepped out of the bathroom, and Marla nodded approvingly. "You make a convincing young man. Where will you go now?" "Alpha Academy," I replied, tucking my remaining cash into my pocket. "To register for the ice hockey tournament." "Bold," she remarked. "Or foolish." "Both, probably." I managed a thin smile. "Thank you for your help." Two hours later, I stood before the imposing gates of Alpha Academy, the premier training ground for male wolves across three territories. No one would think to look for Antalya Andrews here, in this bastion of masculine pride and power.

It doesn't matter how many years pass. Perpetrators have strong imprints on their victims. And sure enough, my senses don’t lie, Reid Maddox steps out. Paxon Pack royalty, my personal fucking hell. I swear the concrete trembles beneath his feet. My brain fries trying to process what the hell is happening. Why the two Alphas from rival packs, and rival hockey teams are standing right here, together, waiting like this is some kind of casual airport pickup. Royalty. Both of them. Huge, tall, arrogant dicks, too handsome for the eyes.

Ronan I hear the familiar shuffle of cleats and sneakers before the knock lands softly on the door. I already know who it is. My team. The Icewolves. To the world, we’re just a Division One hockey team, but only in the city… in this pack… I’m their Alpha. They come in, loud as ever, but their energy drops the second their eyes land on me. I’m slouched on the chair, stiff from three days of sleep. Still sore. Still trying to piece everything together.

For my lack of a wolf? The humiliation I’d made out of myself at the game tonight? Alpha Rhys Jaeger is known as the “Mad Alpha”, mentally deranged Coach who keeps himself off the ice during the games but keeps his pack hockey players in check. While he stands beside Alpha Silas, he looks more calm than the rumors portrayed, towering over even Silas’s pure muscles and height of 6 '2. Everyone knows about him. Or… thinks they do. They say he doesn’t have control when he shifts. That he’d killed Alphas during games, that he doesn’t keep wives, but sex slaves and trophies.

He grabbed Marcus by the front of his hockey jersey and slammed him hard against the plastic barrier wall. The thick glass panels rattled as the two rivals began a brutal, bloody duel right on the edge of the ice rink. Holden completely rejected his hockey ambition, focusing entirely on tearing Marcus apart to keep the field clear for me. I did not stop to watch them fight. I broke into a frantic run, sliding and slipping across the wet ice toward the center of the rink. Alpha Richard watched the chaos in the stands, his face twisting into a furious snarl. He realized his shield of hostages was falling apart. He looked back down at me as I approached the wooden chair.

Their golden eyes glowed in the darkness, reflecting my every move. I stood inside the circle of ancient runes, their pale light creeping over my skin. A reminder that anyone standing in this circle—even an Alpha—had to strip away his pride. Here, the law wasn’t mine. The law was only theirs. Eldric’s staff, belonging to the oldest Elder, struck the stone floor. The thud echoed, shaking the chamber. “Kaelan Viero,” his voice was low, raspy, yet filled with power. “The Alpha of Nightbane who chose hockey over his pack’s blood. At last, you return.”

“I want to lick off the water with my tongue.“ He didn't reply immediately. He just took a slow, deliberate step towards me. “Come and lick it off then.“ Thank Goddess… I didn't waste time at all. In a swift movement, I threw the duvet off me and jumped out of the bed, my heavy breasts jingling. I stepped in front of him, and dropped to my knees with my acrylic nails digging into his thighs. I looked up at him and oh lord... this man is too beautiful to behold. A set of stormy grey eyes. A sharp jawline that is so perfect. Skin so smooth like that of a fairy. He is perfection and the Goddess must have sculpted him on the most happiest day of her life. Alpha. Lucas. Blackwood Alpha of the Moo

Hockey was the only way to bleed off the excess power without exposing the truth. I had bypassed Damian's security detail again, this time slipping out with an old friend who believed I was just stealing a few practice skates for my sanity. I wasn't. I was outrunning the inevitable. Now, I was suited up, standing on the bench, watching the final minutes of a brutal game against the Vipers—Julian Drake's pack, the enemy I now knew was led by Kael, the true Mirkwood Alpha. Damian had been clear about the danger: Kael’s players were not athletes; they were planted fighters, using the rink as a battlefield to probe our defenses.