The Omega On His Ice

Violet

The guy behind the registration table looked at me, looked down at his clipboard, then looked at me again.

“Women’s hockey registration is in the east rink.”

I smiled. “That’s nice.”

He waited.

I waited.

His eyebrows slowly pulled together. “So…you need to go to the east rink.”

“No, I don’t.”

I watched the exact moment his patience started slipping. It was almost impressive how quickly I managed it, considering we’d known each other for maybe thirty seconds.

“This is the men’s team tryout.”

“I know.”

His eyes dropped to my hockey bag.

Then back to me.

And there it was.

That look.

I’d been getting it since I was twelve years old and showed up at my first competitive camp with my hair braided down my back and skates slung over my shoulder.

Girls don’t play here.

Except this time, being a girl wasn’t even going to be my biggest problem.

The guy sniffed.

His entire expression changed.

“You’re an Omega.”

Bingo.

I leaned slightly over the table. “Excellent nose.”

His mouth opened, but someone behind me laughed.

I didn’t bother turning around.

The lobby of Blackwood Alpha Academy’s hockey arena was packed with guys hoping to earn one of the few open spots on the Wolves roster. Most were Alphas. I could feel their energy crawling over my skin before I even walked through the doors. There were a handful of Betas mixed in, but Omegas?

One.

Me.

Female Omegas?

Still me.

I pulled the registration form toward me.

The guy slapped his hand over it.

“You can’t try out.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re—”

I waited.

He apparently had enough survival instinct not to finish that sentence.

“Because I’m what?”

His jaw tightened. “This is a contact sport.”

“No shit.”

Someone laughed again.

This time several others joined him.

The guy’s cheeks turned red. “Look, I’m trying to save you the embarrassment.”

“That is incredibly thoughtful.”

“You’re going to get hurt.”

“Probably.”

“By an Alpha.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

I stopped smiling.

That finally shut him up.

“I’ve been playing hockey since I was five. I know exactly what happens on that ice. So unless there’s a rule saying a female student can’t try out for this team, give me the form.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Or,” I added, “we can go find Coach and ask him together.”

That did it.

His hand lifted.

I took the form.

“Thank you.”

“You’re insane.”

“So I’ve been told.”

I grabbed the pen attached to the clipboard and started filling everything out.

Violet Hayes.

Age: nineteen.

Position: right wing.

Designation:

I stared at that one for a second before checking the box.

Omega.

As if the entire building couldn’t already smell it on me.

I handed the form back.

The guy glanced at it. “Hayes?”

“That’s usually how names work.”

His head snapped up.

I smiled sweetly.

He hated me.

This was going great.

I picked up my bag and headed toward the locker rooms before anyone could invent another reason to stop me.

I’d made it halfway down the hall when a door opened and three guys walked out.

I immediately recognized the one in the middle.

Anyone who followed college hockey would.

Ethan Cole.

Captain of the Blackwood Wolves.

Six-foot-three of Alpha arrogance wrapped in a black practice jersey.

I’d watched him play dozens of times. He was fast for his size, brutal along the boards, and had a slap shot that made goalies reconsider their career choices.

He was also projected to go first round after graduation.

His dark hair was damp, like he’d already been on the ice, and he was laughing at something one of his teammates said until his eyes landed on me.

Then he stopped.

His gaze moved over my hockey bag.

My stick.

Me.

I watched his nostrils flare.

Oh, fantastic.

Here we go again.

“Omega?”

I shifted my bag higher on my shoulder. “Alpha?”

One of his friends coughed into his fist.

Ethan’s eyebrows rose.

“What are you doing down here?”

“I was thinking about getting my teeth cleaned, but then I remembered this was a hockey arena.”

The blond guy beside him lost it.

Ethan didn’t.

His eyes narrowed instead. “Women’s locker room is on the other side.”

“So I’ve heard.”

I stepped around him.

He moved.

Right into my path.

My wolf stirred beneath my skin.

Not frightened.

Annoyed.

That was another thing Alphas never seemed to understand about Omegas. They expected us to lower our eyes. Back away. Submit.

Maybe some did.

I had apparently missed that lesson.

“Tryouts are closed practice,” Ethan said.

“I know.”

“Players only.”

“I know.”

Something flickered across his face.

Then his gaze dropped to the registration sticker someone had slapped onto my bag.

#47 — VIOLET HAYES

He stared at it.

Then at me.

“No.”

I laughed.

Actually laughed.

His expression darkened.

“You’re trying out?”

“That’s generally what the number means.”

“For my team?”

There it was.

My team.

Of course.

I stepped closer until there were only a few inches between us.

“Unless you own Blackwood Academy, the arena, and every puck inside it, I’m pretty sure it’s Coach’s team.”

The blond guy made a choking sound.

Ethan’s eyes flashed gold.

Alpha.

Big, powerful, pissed-off Alpha.

I should’ve backed down.

Instead, something inside me came alive.

Maybe because I’d spent too many years hearing no.

No, Violet.

Girls don’t play checking hockey.

No, Violet.

Omegas aren’t built for this.

No, Violet.

Pick something safer.

Something appropriate.

Something easier.

I was so fucking tired of easier.

Ethan leaned down slightly.

“You won’t last ten minutes.”

I smiled.

“Then I guess you only have to tolerate me for nine.”

I walked around him.

This time, he let me.

I could feel all three of them staring at my back as I continued down the hallway.

“She’s going to die,” somebody muttered.

I lifted my hand without turning around.

“Still have excellent hearing!”

The blond guy laughed again.

I pushed through the locker-room door and finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

Holy shit.

My hands were shaking.

I stared at them.

“Stop it.”

They didn’t.

Because underneath all my smart-ass comments and attitude was one inconvenient truth.

I was terrified.

I’d fought for this opportunity for years.

One tryout.

That was all I’d wanted.

One chance where nobody could tell me what they thought an Omega female could do before actually watching me do it.

I sat on the bench and opened my bag.

Skates.

Pads.

Gloves.

Helmet.

The familiar smell settled something inside me.

I started getting dressed.

By the time I tied my skates, my hands had stopped shaking.

By the time I pulled my jersey over my head, so had my stomach.

And when I stepped through the tunnel twenty minutes later and saw the ice?

Everything else disappeared.

This was the only place where I’d never felt like an Omega.

Never felt like a girl who needed permission.

On the ice, nobody cared what you were.

The clock cared how fast you were.

The scoreboard cared whether you scored.

And the puck sure as hell didn’t give a shit about designation.

I stepped onto the rink.

My blades cut into fresh ice.

Across the arena, Ethan stood beside Coach with his arms crossed.

He saw me.

Even from this distance, I could practically feel his irritation.

I pushed off.

Once.

Twice.

Then I let myself go.

The cold air hit my face as my legs found the rhythm they’d known almost my entire life. Faster. Harder. The rink opened beneath me, and suddenly there were no Alphas watching.

No rules.

No whispers.

Just ice.

I rounded the net at full speed and crossed back toward center.

Several conversations stopped.

Good.

I skidded to a stop directly in front of Ethan, spraying ice across his skates.

His eyes dropped.

Then slowly lifted to mine.

I smiled.

“Still think I won’t last ten minutes?”

His jaw tightened.

Coach blew his whistle.

“Cole!”

Ethan looked toward him.

Coach pointed at me.

“You’re up first.”

Ethan frowned. “For what?”

Coach tossed a puck onto the ice.

“Let’s see if she can keep up with you.”

A few guys laughed.

Ethan’s mouth curved into the first real smile I’d seen from him.

Apparently, he thought this was going to be fun.

He picked up the puck and skated toward center ice.

I followed.

When we reached the line, he leaned closer.

“Last chance to walk away, Omega.”

I looked at the open ice ahead of us.

Then at him.

And smiled.

“You better worry about keeping up, Alpha.”

The whistle blew.

And I took off.