Rejected By My Hockey Alpha
"Depends on the details. I need to review their proposals first."
We head upstairs to get ready. The bathroom fills with steam as I shower, hot water cascading over my shoulders and washing away the last traces of sleep. I change into jeans and a nice sweater—soft cashmere that feels like a hug. Timothy dresses in his usual Alpha attire: dark pants that fit perfectly and a crisp button-down shirt in charcoal gray.
"You look official," I observe, admiring how the clothes transform him from my fiancé into the Alpha.
"I feel official," Timothy says, adjusting his collar with careful fingers. "Sometimes I still can't believe I'm actually Alpha."