Craved By The Cursed Hockey Alpha

IAN The crowd outside was already losing its mind and I hadn’t even stepped on the ice yet. This was the last game in this shithole high school before we moved to the Academy for our final year. My teammates were hyped and ready to go. Everyone was ready. Except me. The captain, who was supposed to hold this together. My wolf, Fenris, wouldn’t go still. My jersey felt wrong, the pads too off. My skin felt too tight and clammy like Fenris was trying to claw its way out. He’d been restless all week, but tonight was worse. He was straining against the inside of my skull like a caged animal. My vision kept going sharp—too sharp. I could hear too much. Someone’s gum being chewed three lockers down. A zipper being pulled. Every sound amplified and shoved into my ears whether I wanted it or not. I inhaled. Sharply. Raggedly. I got this. I got this. I was Alpha. The last thing anyone needed to see was their Alpha losing control. Again. “Bro, you look like shit.” Zane dropped onto the bench across from me, shin pads half strapped, grinning like a kid who just set something on fire and was waiting for someone to notice. “He always looks like that before a game. Murderous and constipated.” Rhys said, sitting down next to his twin with the exact same grin. The two of them were identical in every way—same dark hair, sharp jaw, muscular build, and their inability to shut the f**k up for more than thirty seconds. “Both of you shut up,” I said. “See?” Zane pointed at me. “Murderous and constipated.” They were annoying as hell. Adrian sat at the far end of the bench, quiet as always, lacing his skates. He didn’t say anything. He rarely did. He met my gaze now, a question in his eyes. You good? I gave him a short nod and he went back to his skates. “Hey, babe.” A sugary feminine voice purred. The redhead strutted over, her hips swaying like she was on a runway. What was her name? Shannon? Shawna? Something with an S. I could not remember and genuinely did not care. “I could help you relax before the game. You know I’m good at that.” she murmured, her fingers reached up to cup my jaw. I caught her wrist before she made contact. “Not now!” She raised a brow and pouted. “What do you mean not now? You always want this.” She tried again, pressing forward. Fenris lurched. Her scent hit me intensely. Three weeks ago that scent was tolerable. Tonight it was making me want to peel my own face off. “Go away,” I growled. Loud enough that half the locker room turned their heads. She blinked. Then her expression hardened. “Are you serious right now? Game doesn’t start for another ten minutes.” She crossed her arms, which only pushed her t**s up higher. “You’re really going to ignore this?” Any other night? Maybe. Fine. Whatever. But right now my wolf was trying to eat its way out of my rib cage and the last thing I needed was the Redhead Throat Goat shoving her chest at me like it was going to fix the fact that I was slowly losing my goddamn mind. “I said go away!” “Bastard.” She huffed, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Suit yourself. Don’t come texting me later.” She strutted off, her heels angrily clicking against the concrete floor. “Damn.” Zane leaned back, watching her leave with open appreciation. “You’re really passing on that?” “Ten minutes is ten minutes,” Rhys added, tilting his head to get a better angle on her exit. “That’s, like, nine more than Zane needs.” “Speak for yourself,” Zane fired back. “Every girl knows I’m a beast in bed,” “Since when?” “Your last girlfriend, remember? Remember when I pretended to be you and—” “Finish that sentence and I’ll break your jaw,” Rhys said, all traces of smile gone from his voice now. “You’d break your own jaw. We have the same face.” Adrian didn’t look up from his skates. “Both of you are embarrassing.” I braced my hands against the locker and breathed—the episodes. My wolf was going completely feral. I knew what Fenris wanted. He wanted his mate. And I hadn’t found her. Maybe when we found her—if we found her—it would stop. “You’ll stay to watch, won’t you, babe?” Another voice. Another babe. But this one wasn’t directed at me. I looked up. Nate Calloway. He stood at the other end of the locker room, hovering over his girlfriend. She was tucked against him, petite and wide-eyed, her wavy brown hair falling around her shoulders like a curtain. The Muteblood. Elara-something. The wolfless nobody Nate dragged around like a charity case. As if she could feel my gaze on her, her head turned in my direction. Her lips parted and those forest green eyes found mine. One second. That stupid face that I f*****g hated. The wide eyes, and the way she always looked at me like I was the worst thing she’d ever seen while simultaneously looking like she was about to cry. Everything about her irritated me on a level I couldn’t fully explain. Looking at her was like pressing on a bruise I didn’t remember getting. Nate’s arm went around her waist and pulled her closer. Her gaze tore away from mine. Fenris surged inside of me, tearing against my skin again. “Give me a kiss for good luck,” Nate was saying. She tiptoed and kissed his lips. Quick and light. The kind of kiss you give your grandmother. “Aw,” Zane said, loud enough for half the room to hear. “Look at that, Rhys. True love.” “Beautiful,” Rhys said, pressing his hand over his heart. “Brings a tear to my eye.” “They’re so cute I might throw up.” I didn’t want to hear any of this. But curse my goddamn supernatural hearing—I could hear every breath, every wet sound of lips meeting lips being funneled directly into my skull at maximum volume. “So quick?” Nate grumbled. “Come on, I’m the birthday boy. You can do better than that.” She kissed him again. Longer this time. And the bastard was grinning against her mouth, his hands sliding down to her hips, and I could hear—I could hear—the soft sound she made when he pulled her closer. A tiny, breathless thing that barely qualified as a moan. And then—f**k—I could smell it. Nate’s arousal. That thick, musky stink rolling off him in waves, flooding the locker room like a gas leak. “Also,” Nate murmured against her mouth, “for the party later… wear the dress I bought you?” “If that’s what you want.” Her voice was breathless. Soft. I snapped. “Enough!” My voice cracked through the locker room like a whip. Every head turned. Conversations died mid-sentence. “Game’s in five. Not enough time to f**k around. Get that jinx out of here!” The word jinx hit exactly where I aimed it. Nate’s grin vanished. He pushed Elara behind him as though he could actually protect her from me. “What’s your problem, Nightshade?” Nate growled. “You want a fight?” “Nate.” Her hand was on his arm, pressing into his jersey. “Just ignore him. It’s okay.” She whispered it, but I heard it. I totally ignored her. “Your captain and Alpha is telling you to get your s**t together,” I said, eyes locked on Nate. “That’s what you should do.” Nate stormed forward. I was half an inch taller. His sandy brown hair and his blue eyes glaring up at me with the kind of defiance that would’ve been admirable if it wasn’t so f*****g stupid. He was the assistant captain and soon-to-be Beta of our pack. We used to be best friends as kids—inseparable. All five of us. Me, Nate, Adrian, and the twins. We grew up together, trained together, raised hell together. That was until that unforgettable incident happened. And then six months ago, Nate showed up with her as his girlfriend—the daughter of the woman who caused my father’s death. “And if I don’t?” Nate glared up at me. “I’d just make you.” We started to circle each other. The locker room went dead quiet. “Oooh.” Zane grinned, “This is gonna be interesting. Careful, Calloway. Don’t write checks your muteblood girlfriend can’t cash.” “Leave her out of this,” Nate snarled, his eyes cutting to Zane. “She’s in it,” Rhys replied, “She’s been in it since you brought her around.” “You can kill each other after the match! Not now, boys!” Coach burst through the door. He shoved himself between us, one hand on my chest, one on Nate’s, his red face practically vibrating with fury. “What the hell is wrong with you, Nightshade?” He clapped my shoulders hard. “Get your act together. Don’t you dare disappoint me on that ice.” I shrugged off his grip. Behind Nate, the Muteblood was holding his arm, whispering at him to calm down. Her chin was trembling. Those green eyes were getting glassy and wet, the way they always got—the only move she had, really, the quivering lip and the doe eyes. “Aw,” Zane said, “is she gonna cry?” “Boooo,” Rhys added quietly, cupping his hands around his mouth. “No crying in the locker room. House rules.” “That’s enough. Game time!” Adrian said, his expression bored, directed at the twins. Elara shot me one last glare over Nate’s shoulder. Those green eyes were burning with undisguised hate. I stared right through her. I f*****g hated that face.