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My whole existence just… turns. Flips. Focuses. Until the rest of the world feels like a blur.
And she’s crystal fucking clear.
Does my brain even work anymore? I can’t seem to discern what she smells like… only that it’s absolute world-ending perfection.
Every receptor in my mind lights up and pulses. My mouth waters, teeth aching to bite. Claim. Clamp down on her neck while I sink my knot into her tight little body and stay buried in that flawless skin forever.
What am I going to do first: pick her up and purr for her or get on my knees and show her the way she’ll sit on my face every morning?
Jesus, Big D. Get a grip.
This is a literal stranger. And I just mowed her down.
Her hand floats up, absently pressing to the small swell of her chest. She blinks, two hazel-blue eyes beaming up at me from a face with dainty features and an upturned nose. All of it just as gorgeous as her warm brown skin.
I’ve never seen eyes like hers. Blue and brown and gold, spinning pretty patterns. And… leaking tears?
Is she crying?!
I think the fuck not.
Unable to stand for it, I curve my shoulders forward, forming a protective barrier between her and the rest of the world. All of my instincts turn on a dime, shifting from carnal claiming to comfort.
“Hey, pretty girl,” I say, as softly as I can. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head, the movement slow and dazed. “No, I—I’m sorry. I just…”
I realize we’re not alone when a female alpha clears her throat pointedly and curls a hand around the pretty girl’s bare shoulder. “We were just moving to a meeting room. Remi’s alphas are on their way.”
Remi.
I like that. Short and sweet, just like her.
Off the ice, I’m not usually aggressive to other alphas, but I hate that this one is touching the little omega standing in front of me. Especially since she seems overwhelmed. I suppress a snarl, glaring at the female alpha.
“She’s clearly upset,” I husk, trying to keep the growl out of my voice. Turning back to the omega, I have to ball my hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch her.
“Whatever it is, it will be okay,” I say, knowing my words may be bullshit, but also knowing I have to make this better, somehow. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
She blinks, obviously startled. Can’t say I blame her there. I’m startled. Especially when I notice that her gaze snags on the big purple circle around my right eye. She winces, and one of her hands flinches up, as if to touch it.
“Are you okay?” she asks in a small voice. “That looks like it hurts a lot.”
Actually, it does. But no one else bothered to ask.
“Yeah,” I reply, dumbfounded. And getting dumber with every pull of sweet-soaked oxygen. “It was my own fault, though.”
She frowns, and even that face is beautiful on her. All ponderous and pouty.
“Let me guess—you make a habit of running into people?” she asks with a scolding twitch of her eyebrow.
An uncontrollable grin stretches over my face. “I sort of do, actually. I’m a hockey player. We like to ram into each other. Like bumper cars on ice.”
Her second brow joins the first, casting me a dry look of disapproval. “Hmm. Looks more like you made someone mad and they punched you.”
Holy fucking shit. She’s so cute.
And, you know, correct.
