Page 24 of Knot Only His

“She knows!” Oliver practically bounces on his feet. “She fucking knows.”

“She knows what?”

“That she is an omega.”

Chapter 6

Oliver

Two weeks later

I slam into the boards, sending a spray of ice into the air. These drills are brutal, but they keep my mind off her. Almost. Just knowing she is here puts my alpha on edge. I know she’s still here… I can smell her.

My omega—Harlow Foster.

I’ve been restless since the game against the New York Bears a few months ago. The moment her scent hit me across the ice when she kissed her boyfriend, Colton Sinclair, after he scored. It wasn’t the first time I could smell my omega, but it was the first time I realizedit was Harlow.

Her scent is delicious—coconut, pineapple, vanilla, and a dash of rum—and I knew immediately that Harlow was my omega. I don’t even know if we’re a scent match, but I feel we are.

It’s strange though, because Colton bragged about his alpha girlfriend to anyone who’d listen.

Liar.

He let everyone believe she was an alpha for a reason.

“Oliver! Focus!” Coach Parker’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I’m still angry with him for not chasing our omega. He should have brought her home two weeks ago.

I push off the boards and chase after Dixon, who’s already halfway down the ice with the puck.

My stick connects, sending the puck spinning away. The satisfying clack of wood on ice echoes through the arena.

My muscles burn as I circle back for another drill while the cold nips at my exposed neck—something I’ve never noticed before in my years on the ice. But now everything feels wrong, off balance, like my skin doesn’t fit right anymore.

“Bradley! Get your head out of your ass!” Coach Parker barks from the sideline. His face is hard, jaw clenched. He knows what’s eating at me. Hell, the entire team does.

I’ve been grumpy for two weeks.

I slam my stick against the ice. “I’m here, and I’m focused.”

“Really? Because that’s the third time Martin has gotten past you.”

The truth scratches at my throat. I want to tell him it’s his fault. If he’d just made more of an effort with her that night at the club, brought her home to us...

Dixon skates past, bumping my shoulder. “Dude, you reek of angry alpha.”

“Back off.” I bare my teeth, earning a sharp whistle from Coach.

“Bradley! Hit the showers. You’re done for today.”

“What? No, I can—“

“Now.”

My stick clatters against the boards as I throw it. The team goes quiet, but I don’t care. It’s been two weeks since she came to LA. Two weeks of catching her scent around the stadium. It’s like she works in the same building.

My omega feels so close, yet still untouchable.

I storm toward the locker room, my skates cutting deep grooves in the ice. The cold doesn’t bother me—it never has—but today it feels like needles on my skin. Everything’s heightened, and wrong, since she appeared.

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