My Hated Rival Hockey Alpha

Dirty and Dancing

Celeste

The emerald green dress shimmered under the soft light of my bedroom, a silent, glittering accusation. Axel had sent it, of course, with a one-word text: “Wear this.” No please, no thank you, just a blunt command. My fingers traced the delicate off-the-shoulder straps, the sweetheart neckline. The fabric draped and ruched, catching light like scattered starlight. It was beautiful, sure, but I hated it. I hated that he knew my size, that he’d picked something so perfect. Something that made me feel… powerful, even though I was totally trapped.

With a sigh, I slipped the dress on. The cool, sequined fabric slid over my skin, a soft *swoosh*. It settled right into place, clinging like a second skin. The off-the-shoulder bit, all artfully draped, showed my collarbones. Thin straps were barely there. The sweetheart neckline framed my chest. From my cinched waist, the fabric flowed down, a rich, dark river of green. On one side, it gathered in soft drapes, catching the light. Each fold seemed to breathe with its own glow. It pooled at my feet, a silent, glittering statement. I clipped on the delicate silver necklace, a single drop pendant, and a matching bracelet. The whole outfit screamed quiet power.

I stared at my reflection. Who even was that woman? Regal, untouchable, totally confident. A perfect lie. “Hmph,” I scoffed, tossing my auburn hair over my shoulder. The lavender and bergamot scent from my shower was already gone, replaced by the metallic tang of my own nerves. The Briggs Festival. My stomach did a flip-flop. Not because of the party itself, but because I had to go *with him*. The Gelid Gallant was a huge deal, a tradition for every respectable family. My presence was expected, and my appearance would be picked apart. This wasn't just about Axel. It was about keeping my family's name afloat in this crazy world.

A sharp rap echoed through the quiet castle halls. My heart gave a startled *thump*. Already? I smoothed down the dress. Palms sweating. I was ready. Or, you know, as ready as I was ever going to be.

Downstairs, Harrison stood by the ancient oak door. His face was as unreadable as ever. He wore a dark suit, tailored to perfection. He looked at me, a flicker of something I couldn't quite place in his eyes, then gave a curt nod.

“Right on time, Celeste,” he said, his voice flat. “Axel’s waiting.”

The short drive to the Briggs Festival felt like forever. The air crackled with anticipation, the distant *thrum-thrum* of a bass line growing louder with each passing minute. When Harrison finally pulled up to the grand entrance, the sight stole my breath. Lights strung through ancient trees glowed like captured fireflies. They lit up a sprawling lawn packed with people. Music pulsed, a vibrant mix of pop and something primal, drawing me in despite myself. The air smelled of roasted meats, sweet pastries, and an undercurrent of something wild—something distinctly *pack*. This wasn’t just a party. It was the Gelid Gallant, a gathering of all the respectable schools and pack houses. A place where alliances were subtly forged and reputations, like mine, were carefully maintained.

Axel stood by a massive stone fountain, surrounded by a small cluster of men. His dark head towered above them. He wore a black dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to reveal muscular forearms. He looked… devastating. A low *chuckle* seemed to come from the crowd as he laughed, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the ground. The others around him chuckled, their eyes fixed on him. He had this undeniable aura of deference and power.

He turned, like he knew I was there. His stormy grey eyes locked onto mine. A slow, appreciative smile spread across his face. The world seemed to shrink, the crowd blurring into a colorful, noisy background. He started walking towards me, his gaze never leaving my face. The other men parted for him, a silent ripple of respect.

My throat tightened. This was it. The performance began. My mind flashed to Connor, a pang of familiar grief. He wasn't here, of course. He couldn't be. The NDA I’d signed, the secrets I held about him, about that night… they were buried deep. He was just a memory, a phantom ache.

Axel reached me, his hand extending, a casual, confident gesture. He didn't touch my back, but his presence was a palpable heat right next to me. “You clean up exceptionally well, Harlow,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that only I could hear above the festival din. There was a hint of something dangerous in his eyes.

I forced a tight smile. “And you’re… presentable, Reid.” The words felt hollow, a practiced deflection.

His smile widened, a flash of white teeth. “Always a charmer, aren’t you?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. The scent of ash wood and something wild enveloped me. “Try to look like you’re enjoying my company. It’s part of the job.”

*Part of the job I already do,* I thought, my jaw tight. He took my hand, his fingers strong and warm, a deliberate, guiding touch, and led me into the heart of the festival. The crowd seemed to swell around us, eyes following our every move. I offered polite nods, a practiced smile for familiar faces, my steps measured and graceful. I felt every eye, every judgment, but I moved with the confidence of someone who knew her place here.

“This is quite the gathering,” I said, trying to sound casual. My voice came out a little higher than I intended.

“It’s a traditional pack event,” he replied, his thumb lightly stroking the back of my hand. It was a subtle, almost imperceptible flirtation that made my pulse jump. “A celebration of strength, community… and a bit of showing off, of course.”

“I can see that,” I muttered, glancing at a group of shirtless men wrestling good-naturedly in a designated ring. Their roars and grunts echoed through the night. *Wham!* One was thrown, landing with a soft *thud* in the sawdust.

We passed a stall selling glowing drinks. Axel paused, turning to me. “Care for something to drink?”

“Just water, please,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I needed a clear head.

He nodded, gesturing to a server. As the server moved away, I felt a familiar, unsettling prickle on my skin. The feeling of being watched. I scanned the crowd, my eyes darting through the kaleidoscope of faces, but saw no one familiar, no one that stood out. Just the usual array of curious stares.

Axel’s hand tightened slightly on mine, pulling my attention back to him. “Something wrong?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes narrowed, following my gaze.

I shook my head, forcing a smile. “Just… taking it all in.”

He didn't look entirely convinced, but he let it go. The server returned with my water and a dark, frothing drink for Axel. He took a long sip, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.

“So, this is the world,” I said, trying to regain my composure. “Loud music, wrestling, and… glowing drinks.” I didn't need him to tell me it was *his* world, I knew it was *the* world, the one I had to navigate constantly.

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that made my chest vibrate. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, Harlow. But yes, this is a part of it.” He leaned in again, his lips brushing my ear. “And tonight, so are you.”

The implication in his tone, the way his body subtly screened me from the crowd, stirred something deep within me. Annoyance, yes, but also a strange, unwelcome flutter. I hated that he could still affect me so profoundly.

We walked on, stopping to greet various pack members. Axel introduced me, his hand resting lightly on my lower back. It was a constant, polite, yet infuriating, weight. Each introduction was the same: “This is Celeste, my date for the evening.” The words were simple, but the way the others nodded, their eyes lingering on me, suggested they interpreted it as something much more.

As we neared a large bonfire, its flames leaping and crackling with a joyous *whoosh*, the heat intensified. The air grew thick with the scent of burning wood and something else, something ancient and potent. My skin tingled, a faint *hum* beginning beneath my skin. It wasn't just the fire; it was the raw, vibrant energy of the crowd, the thrum of the music, the sheer scale of it all, that made me feel alive and overwhelmed all at once.

We stood by the bonfire for a while, the heat on my face, the low *crackle* and *pop* of the wood, the rhythmic beat of the music, all blending into a dizzying sensory overload. I stole glances at Axel. He looked less like the feared Alpha and more like a man at ease, his features softened by the firelight. He caught my eye, and for a moment, his usual guarded expression softened, a hint of something deeper in his stormy grey eyes.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the revelry.

“It’s… a lot,” I confessed, the words escaping before I could stop them.

He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes. “You’ll learn to navigate it.” He didn't say "get used to it," but the implication was clear: I was already here, I just needed to adapt to *him*.

Suddenly, the music swelled, a burst of wild drums and chanting. The pack members around us began to dance, a primal, joyful movement. Axel turned to me, his hand still holding mine. “Care for a dance, Harlow?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

My heart pounded. “I don’t really dance.”

“Nonsense,” he chuckled, a challenge in his voice, as he pulled my hand, drawing me closer. “Just feel the beat.”

He led me in a slow, swaying dance, his body moving close to mine, his hand still firm on my back. It was intimate, far too intimate for a fake date. My body responded despite itself, swaying with his, the *hum* beneath my skin intensifying. The line between what was real and what is pretend blurred, dissolving in the firelight and the intoxicating scent of him. I hated it. I hated that he could make me feel this way. And yet, I couldn't pull away. Not when his eyes held mine, not when the music pulsed through us both, not when the fire crackled, mirroring the growing heat in my own blood. This was a dangerous game, and I was falling deeper with every beat.

Harrison dropped me off at the castle. The silence of the Audi was a stark contrast to the festival’s roar. As I walked through the quiet halls, the scent of smoked meats and something sweet still clinging to my dress, I saw a stack of large takeout bags on the kitchen counter. My mom’s voice carried from the living room.

“Celeste, darling! How was the ball?”

Sienna bounced out, her eyes wide. “Did you see anyone interesting? What did you wear?” Her gaze landed on the bags. “Oh my god, is that from the festival? The roasted boar?”

I asked about dad and grandma but they’d already gone to bed. Good. I wanted my mom and Sienna to enjoy all this.

I forced a tired smile, pushing a bag into Sienna’s hands, then another towards my mom. “Here, food. I’m exhausted. It was… fine. Just a lot of people.” I brushed past them. I couldn't tell them about the confusing pull I felt, about Axel's disarming charm, about the delicate balance of my carefully constructed life.

“Night, Mom. Night, Sienna.” I mumbled, already halfway up the stairs.

My phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Axel: "Hope you enjoyed. Food's at your place." A faint *ping* of annoyance, followed by a fleeting thought of the wasted effort, before I let it go.

I didn't bother with my night routine. The dress lay in a shimmering heap on the floor, the necklace and bracelet tossed carelessly onto my dresser. I just wanted to sleep, to forget the confusing swirl of emotions and the terrifying awareness that had sparked within me.

The next morning, I woke feeling like absolute *s**t*. My head throbbed, a dull ache behind my eyes that no amount of sleep could soothe. I rolled over, letting out a long, dramatic *yawwwnnn*. The silk sheets, another relic of my grandmother’s fleeting wealth, felt luxurious against my skin, but they couldn’t cushion the weight pressing down on my chest.

I pushed myself up, my bare feet finding the cool wooden floor. My body felt heavy, sluggish. I stretched, my muscles protesting, then padded to the window, pulling back the heavy velvet curtains. The morning sun streamed in, bright and unforgiving.

And there he was.

Axel. Standing on the castle grounds, looking up at my window. His dark hair was slightly mussed, and he wore a simple t-shirt, but his gaze was fixed on me. A faint flush crept up his neck, a hint of embarrassment in his usually impassive eyes.

My brow furrowed. What was he doing here? And why did he look so… caught? I glanced down at myself, wondering what he could possibly be staring at.

My breath hitched.

My body was on full display. I was wearing nothing but my matching pink lace set – the flimsy, frilly kind that offered more suggestion than coverage. The one Sienna had bought me for my birthday, teasing me about needing to spice up my life.

My eyes met Axel’s again. He was still staring, his eyes wide, a slow, knowing smile beginning to curve his lips.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHH!” I let out a full-blown *scream*, clutching my hands to my chest, the sound tearing through the quiet morning air.