Chapter 2 Chapter 2

Violet

The first thing you learn when you grow up playing hockey against guys twice your size is that strength is overrated.

Okay, not completely overrated.

Getting slammed into the boards by two hundred pounds of pissed-off Alpha definitely makes you appreciate strength.

But strength doesn’t mean shit if you can’t catch me.

The whistle screamed.

I pushed off hard.

For half a second, Ethan didn’t move.

That was his first mistake.

He’d expected me to hesitate.

By the time he realized I wasn’t going to, I’d already taken the puck across the blue line.

“Fuck,” somebody shouted.

I grinned.

There was nothing quite as satisfying as surprising an Alpha.

Ethan caught up quickly.

I’d give him that.

One second I had open ice, and the next I could feel him coming beside me. Bigger stride. More power. He angled toward me, clearly planning to force me toward the boards.

Exactly what I expected.

I shifted my weight.

Ethan followed.

Then I cut hard in the opposite direction.

His shoulder missed mine by inches.

“Shit!”

The bench exploded.

I didn’t look.

Looking meant slowing down.

I moved the puck from my forehand to my backhand, crossed center, and heard Ethan’s blades digging into the ice behind me.

He was close.

Too close.

So I did the one thing he wasn’t expecting.

I slowed down.

Ethan flew past me.

I cut behind him.

Someone started laughing so hard I heard it from across the rink.

“COLE!”

Ethan spun.

His face—

Oh God.

Worth every miserable practice I’d ever survived.

I took off again.

He caught me before the net.

This time his body came against mine, shoulder to shoulder, and the difference in our size nearly sent me sideways.

Nearly.

I dropped my center of gravity and stayed on my skates.

Ethan tried to pin me out.

I slipped underneath his arm.

The goalie shifted.

I saw the opening.

Shot.

The puck hit the back of the net.

For one beautiful second, the entire arena went silent.

Then somebody yelled, “HOLY SHIT!”

I turned.

Ethan stood near the crease staring at the puck.

I was breathing hard now, but I’d rather swallow my own tongue than let him see it.

So I leaned on my stick.

“Was that ten minutes?”

His head snapped toward me.

“No.”

“Damn. Felt longer.”

The blond guy from the hallway was doubled over at the bench.

Ethan pointed at him. “Shut the fuck up, Mason.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re laughing.”

“I can’t control my emotions.”

Coach’s whistle cut through the rink.

“Again.”

My smile disappeared.

Ethan looked at Coach. “Seriously?”

Coach folded his arms.

“You said she wouldn’t last ten minutes.”

Several guys made very stupid noises.

Ethan glared at them.

Then he looked at me.

Something had changed.

The amusement was gone.

So was the dismissal.

Good.

I’d rather have him pissed off than pitying me.

He skated toward center.

I followed.

As I passed Mason, he tapped his stick against the boards.

“Hey, Omega.”

I stopped.

“What?”

“That was fucking beautiful.”

I smiled.

“I know.”

He laughed.

Ethan didn’t.

We lined up again.

This time, when Coach dropped the puck, Ethan was ready.

And holy hell, he was fast.

He took possession immediately.

I chased him down, but now I understood why scouts followed Ethan Cole around like hungry puppies.

He moved differently with the puck.

Controlled.

Confident.

Powerful.

He didn’t react to the ice.

The ice reacted to him.

I hated how impressive it was.

He crossed the line.

I moved in.

Ethan glanced at me.

Then smiled.

Uh-oh.

He cut.

I followed.

He changed direction again.

I stayed with him.

His smile disappeared.

Mine appeared.

“You’re annoying,” he muttered.

“You noticed.”

He tried to accelerate away.

I stayed on him.

He couldn’t shake me, but I couldn’t get around him either.

Then he used his body.

His shoulder hit mine.

Hard.

Pain shot down my side.

My skate slipped.

For one terrifying second, I thought I was going down.

Not here.

Not today.

I dug my blade into the ice and recovered.

Ethan hesitated.

Just for a fraction of a second.

He looked at me.

Checking.

Making sure I was okay.

And that was his second mistake.

I stole the puck.

“What the—”

I was gone.

The bench erupted again.

I flew toward the opposite net with Ethan chasing me.

I could hear Coach shouting, but I couldn’t make out the words over the blood pounding in my ears.

This was what people never understood.

I wasn’t fearless.

Every time I stepped onto the ice with bigger players, I knew I could get hurt.

I’d been hurt.

Broken wrist at fourteen.

Concussion at sixteen.

Shoulder dislocation last year that my mother still didn’t know about.

Fear came onto the ice with me every damn time.

I just refused to let it skate faster.

Ethan was gaining.

I pushed harder.

The goalie came out.

I faked left.

He committed.

I moved right.

Open net.

I shot.

Goal.

This time the rink didn’t go silent.

It exploded.

I turned so fast I almost lost my edge.

Mason was standing on the bench.

“TWICE!”

“Get down!” Coach yelled.

“She beat him twice!”

“I have eyes, Parker!”

Mason paused.

“Wait. Did you just call me Parker?”

Coach blinked.

The guy beside him shoved him. “Because you’re Parker, dumbass.”

“Oh. Right.”

I laughed before I could stop myself.

Ethan skated toward me.

I straightened.

He stopped directly in front of me.

His chest was rising and falling almost as hard as mine.

“You’ve played against Alphas before.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Since I was eight.”

“Where?”

“Wherever they’d let me.”

His eyes moved over my face.

“You should’ve been recruited.”

There was something about that statement that irritated me more than everything else he’d said.

I tightened my grip on my stick.

“Yeah. I should’ve.”

His expression shifted.

He understood.

Maybe not all of it.

But enough.

Then Coach blew the whistle.

“Cole! Hayes!”

We looked over.

Coach pointed at Ethan.

“She’s still standing.”

Ethan glanced at me.

I smiled sweetly.

Coach pointed toward the bench.

“Hayes, you’re staying.”

My stomach dropped.

“What?”

“For the rest of tryouts.”

It wasn’t a spot.

Not yet.

But it was more than I’d had an hour ago.

I swallowed.

“Okay.”

Coach’s eyes narrowed. “You got a problem with that?”

“No, Coach.”

“Good. Get your ass in line.”

I pushed toward the others.

As I passed Ethan, his voice stopped me.

“Hayes.”

I looked back.

He stared at me for a long second.

Then, very reluctantly, he held out his fist.

I looked at it.

Then him.

“What’s this?”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

I bumped my glove against his.

“Too late.”

His mouth twitched.

Barely.

But I saw it.

I skated away before he could take it back.

Mason—Parker, apparently—shifted over when I reached the line.

“So,” he whispered, “how the hell are you that fast?”

I looked toward Ethan.

He was still watching me.

I shrugged.

“I’m an Omega.”

Parker frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

I smiled.

“Omegas do all the work while you Alphas stand around giving orders and taking credit.”

Three guys heard me.

Then six.

Then half the damn line started laughing.

Ethan closed his eyes.

“Hayes.”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Shut up.”

I grinned.

“Make me.”

His eyes opened.

Gold flashed through them.

And for the strangest second, something inside my chest pulled.

Not fear.

Not exactly.

My wolf suddenly went completely still.

I frowned.

Ethan did too.

Then the feeling vanished.

I shook it off.

Adrenaline.

Had to be.

Coach dropped another pile of pucks onto the ice.

“Next drill!”

I tightened my gloves and moved forward.

I wasn’t on the team.

Not yet.

But Ethan Cole knew my name.

The coach was watching me.

And for the first time in my life, an Alpha hockey team wasn’t asking why an Omega female was on their ice.

They were wondering what the hell I was going to do next.

So was I.