Cracking ice (episode 1): Alpha/Omega Hockey Romance (Rules to Break) by N.J. Lysk ➜ #BookTour #KindleUnlimited
Cracking ice (episode 1):
Series: Rules to Break
by N.J Lysk
Genre: Alpha/Omega Hockey Romance
![Cracking ice (episode 1): Alpha/Omega Hockey Romance (Rules to Break) by [Lysk, N.J.]](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41h3Pv6ec2L._SY346_.jpg)
Hockey was everything to them both... until they met each other.
All Keenan Avali wants to do is play hockey. It doesn't matter that he's an alpha, he's got no interest in dominating anywhere but on the ice.
When Cartwright Johnson joins the Hell's Flames, he expects to play hard to compensate for being an omega who dared to pursue a professional hockey career. After his last team traded him, he is not making the mistake of falling for a teammate ever again. He's sure he's got the control to keep his pants on and his heart closed... until he meets Keenan Avali.
An omega can't trust an alpha, much less one as hot as Avali, but nobody can fail to see they play together like they were made for it. But for how long can they be the perfect teammates on ice when they can't stand to look at each other off it?
This is episode 1 of"Cracking Ice", a rivals-to-lovers hockey romance with a side of revolution.
EXCERPT:
♥ ´*•. (¸.•´✶(¸.•`✮(¸.•´✶(¸.•`✮(¸.•´✶(¸.•`✮(¸.•´✶(¸.•`♥ ´*•.¸
An omega in heat, his straight alpha teammate--a
night neither can forget.
♥ ´*•. (¸.•´✶(¸.•`✮(¸.•´✶(¸.•`✮(¸.•´✶(¸.•`✮(¸.•´✶(¸.•`♥ ´*•.¸
There was
no sex in the world as good as the feeling of your puck hitting the back of the
net. Keenan stood still for a moment, feeling the rush hit his bloodstream all
at once, his heartbeat speeding and his cheeks flushing. There was simply
nothing like being enveloped in the sweaty embrace of men whose bodies had
worked so perfectly with yours that it was almost as if you were one person.
And they had accomplished this without even touching.
Compared to
that, there was little merit in fucking, even if the ladies smelled so much
nicer. Keenan expected sex with an omega woman to be different, but he wasn't
about to risk hockey for a chance at bonding. There wasn't really any other way
for an alpha to find his way to an omega's bed.
Bonding was
a nice dream to have for retirement, but too dangerous for a young successful
player. It was unfortunate, but once a soulbond was established, a lot of
omegas found it too hard to be away from their alphas for the prolonged periods
of time required of a hockey player. Keenan didn't want to do that to someone,
keep something they needed from them, and he definitely didn't want to do that
to someone he had a psychic bond with. So hockey won, like it usually did in
any competition where Keenan was judge, and if he was tempted… well, it was
worth resisting.
It was
hard, but he didn't have any rational
objections to having an omega on the team, he thought as he opened the
door to get out of the rink and into the bench area and the sticky sweet smell
of caramel filled his nose.
Or he
hadn't until he had met Cartwright Johnson. Johnson had smelled like he had
bathed in a bakery until he’d caught sight of Keenan and the sweetness had
turned bitter like burnt cake. He had pretended for the beta managers and
teammates, said all the pleased-to-meet-yous and even talked about some of
Keenan's moves on the ice with admiration that wasn't, Keenan thought,
completely faked.
But he
couldn't act over his unease, and Keenan couldn't stop smelling it. He was an
alpha and he was meant to keep omegas safe: the presence of an omega that was
so profoundly uncomfortable with him was hard to take, and it was just plain
hard to like someone who disliked you so much. That was rational enough for
Keenan, even if he didn't really believe it was rational enough to bring up to
the managers and coaches.
After weeks
of playing together, Johnson had stopped jumping every time Keenan entered a
room he was in. He seemed to get that Keenan wasn't going to try and order him
around or whatever other prejudices against alphas he was holding, but it still
wasn't anywhere near comfortable.
More than
anything, Keenan wished he didn't have to lose the rush of the goal to the wave
of longing that hit him every time he was around Johnson. It was just
pheromones, compatible pheromones, which Keenan had never experienced
with a male omega, making the situation all the stranger and more unfortunate. It wasn’t unpleasant, exactly, but it was…
unsettling. He didn’t like men sexually—as much as he’d been teased for it, he
was as monosexual as could be. And here came this guy who hated his guts and
his body started trying to convince him it would be an excellent plan to eat
him up.
Worse
still, his own scent had to give him away to Johnson. He could hardly
think of anything more awkward than having a teammate who despised him thinking
Keenan wanted... He swallowed, pretending he couldn’t feel the almost
unbearable tension between them even with his gaze firmly planted on the bench
and Santiago's grinning face.
He imagined
them as two predators carefully circling each other, not planning to attack but
prepared for it nonetheless. Never able to relax in the other's presence.
It was
exhausting.
And he
still couldn’t say anything. Not just for Johnson’s sake, but because once the
door to the rink closed with Johnson's line on the other side facing the
Northern Winds, it was impossible to look away from the figure cutting across
the ice almost faster than the eye could track. The sheer difficulty of moving
so deftly at such high speed was compounded by the other nine moving bodies on
the ice. It would have been impressive on an empty rink, but seeing Johnson
speed between players left Keenan spellbound to the point where he sometimes
forgot to follow the progress of the puck in favour of watching the left
winger.
Johnson actually twirled, then twisted his body in the opposite
direction with the same impulse and got around a defender twice his size, then
made a perfect pass like he hadn't noticed the abrupt movement in front of his
eyes at all. Keenan’s alternate, Mike Patel, fumbled the reception—having just
got free from his own defender—and the shot hit the post and bounced off.
There were
groans and barely muffled curses on the bench, but Keenan couldn't make a
sound. He was biting his lip too hard to keep his fury at bay. He forced
himself to take a deep breath, confused. Why was he so angry? He had
scored, and they were still winning. There would be other chances, like there
always were.
It was just
that it had been such a perfect pass; it seemed sacrilegious that Mike hadn't turned it into an equally
perfect goal. Johnson wasn't taking it much better; he saw, his movements stiff
and stilted where they had been smooth and flawless before. The way Johnson
acted around him, Keenan could have been glad on some level, but he felt even
sorrier for Johnson than he did for Mike, who must have been feeling the
failure more personally. It was utterly unfair that someone could do something
so beautiful and have to see it destroyed.
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