Knotted By the Enforcer

Chapter 1

Harper Graves

The Seattle Grizzlies head office smelled like desperation and Febreeze, as if there was an under current of tangy sweat and cold licking at the walls of the building. The energy in the air from the people at the front desk to some of the players had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

Something had happened here.

Something no one really wanted to talk about.

Still whatever incident had happened in this building, had my nostrils flaring as I caught the scent of fear and dread lingering in the air.

And Febreeze girl, I thought. Don’t forget it smells like hella Febreeze.

The scent that someone had sprayed in my office had my nose feeling like feathers had been shoved up it, and finally I let loose a huge sneeze as I sat across from the Grizzlies General Manager, Mark Richards.

"Dr. Graves, we're so grateful you could start immediately." Mark smiled and pushed the contract across his massive desk like he was afraid I'd bolt if he moved too slow. "As you know, we had an... unexpected vacancy."

Yeah right, unexpected my ass, I picked up a blue ink pen, tryin to control my eyebrow from arching itself.

The previous team doctor, from my research had lasted exactly three weeks before whatever happened in this very office sent him running back to his cushy practice in Bellevue.

The Grizzlies were already on their fourth team physician this season, and it was only December.

"I understand there was an incident with one of your players," I said, keeping my voice neutral.

Mark Richards' eye twitched in a way that told me this player made his ass itch. "Knox Maddox. Our enforcer. He can be... intense."

Intense.

That was one way to describe an Alpha who'd reportedly put his fist through the examination room wall when the last doctor suggested he sit out a game.

Another way to describe him would have be unhinged. I’d seen a few images of him around the Grizzlies office, the man was a six foot four wrecking ball of muscle who had rage issues.

"I can handle difficult players," I said before taking a very deep breath and finally signing my name with a flourish that didn't betray how badly I needed this job. I’d destroyed my life back in Chicago, literally detonated it and left everything in shambles and ruins.

Seattle had been the perfect amount of miles away from all that bullshit.

"Good. Good." Richards practically sagged with relief before picking up his phone and checking the time. He looked up from the device a smile balancing on his thin lips. "He actually has his physical today. Two o'clock."

Of course he fucking did, I thought before returning the smile with one of my own and standing.

I needed this job.

I was going to keep this job.

Fresh start, I thought as I exited out of the GM’s office and headed for the the elevator.

Three hours later, I stood in my new examination room, organizing supplies I didn't need to organize. The space was pristine, modern, and had a hastily patched hole in the drywall that someone had tried to hide behind an eye chart.

My nostrils flared as a scent drifted under the door and that was the moment I smelled Knox before I ever saw him, fresh cut pine and smoke. The second I inhaled deeply I felt my fingers wrapping around the edge of the counter top, nearly overwhelmed in an instant.

My stomach clenched hard, even though I had two suppressant patches on each side of my stomach. It didn’t seem to matter because pure alpha pheromones had me on the go, the type of pheromones that could have an Omega like me on all fours ready to be fucked like a savage in heat.

Ready to be fucked and submitting all in one fucking go.

I probably should have ran out the door.

Girl, you need this job, I reminded myself and pasted on a smile, pushing away nasty thoughts of being taken on the cold stone floor.

The door opened and Knox Maddox filled the frame entirely.

Six-foot-four, shoulders that barely fit through the doorway, and a face that looked like it had been carved from granite by someone who was very angry at the stone.

Dark hair, darker eyes, and a jaw that could probably cut glass.

His knuckles were scarred to hell, and tattoos crawled up both forearms, disappearing under his team-issued t-shirt.

"Mr. Maddox." I kept my voice professional, clinical. "I'm Dr. Graves. Have a seat on the table for me, please."

In that moment he didn’t move, just stood there in the door way, his entire six foot four frame seemed to barely allow him through the doorway.

Wavy dark hair in need of a hair cut hung slightly over his brow, and I noted his face had to have been carved by a god of some sort.

His light brown eyes surveyed me, tracking my every movement, with that smokey pine scent filling the space between us.

The hint of a tattoo seemed to peek out at me from beneath the collar of the t-shirt he wore and caused me to swallow deeply.

"You're an Omega." The timber of his voice gave me slight pause, it was deep and delicious, rattling my very bones.

"I'm your doctor. Sit."

Something flickered in his eyes surprise, maybe. Finally he moved into the room, every step deliberate, predatory. He didn’t sit and his eyes never left my own, a smirk rolling onto his full lips.

"Taking Dr. Mallory’s place, I see…"

I let his words hang in the air, and I wondered if he was trying to bait me for a reaction.

Instead, I ignored it. “The table, please."

Knox circled me instead, and I forced myself to stay still, to keep preparing my blood pressure cuff like a two-hundred-and-twenty-pound Alpha wasn't stalking around me like I was prey.

"He was scared of me," Knox said, stopping directly behind me. "Shook every time I came in. Pathetic for a Beta."

"I'm not Dr. Mallory." I turned to face him, meeting those dark eyes directly. "And I need to take your vitals, so unless you want to explain to Coach Sullivan why you're not cleared to play, you'll sit down and we can get started."

The examination room went dead silent. The air grew thick with his scent, testosterone and Alpha pheromones cranking up like he was preparing for a fight. Or something else. My body responded against my will, heat pooling low in my belly despite the suppressants.

Then he sat, not uttering another word.

The examination table creaked under his weight, but his eyes never left mine. There was something almost amused in them now, like I'd passed some kind of test.

"Good," I said, moving closer with my stethoscope. "I'm going to listen to your heart."

"Bet you'll hear some interesting things," he murmured, voice dropping an octave.

I ignored the innuendo and placed the stethoscope on his chest. His heart was racing, which was odd for an athlete of his caliber. Their resting rates were usually in the basement.

"Deep breath."

He complied, but when he exhaled, his scent intensified. Pine and smoke and something else something that spoke directly to the Omega part of my brain I kept locked away. My hand trembled slightly.

"You smell wrong," he said suddenly.

I pulled back. "Excuse me?"

"Suppressants." He practically spat the word. "Can smell them on you. Under them, though..."

His hand shot out, catching my wrist. Not hard, but firm enough that I couldn't pull away without a struggle. His thumb found my pulse point, and I knew he could feel how fast my heart was racing.

"Under them you smell like"

"Mr. Maddox." I kept my voice steady even as his touch sent electricity up my arm. "Release me. Now."

"Or what, Doc?" He stood, using his grip on my wrist to back me against the wall. Not aggressively, but with the kind of inevitable force that made my knees weak. "You'll report me? Get me benched? Go ahead. But first, tell me why an Omega drowning in suppressants took a job dealing with me."

This close, I could see flecks of amber in his dark eyes. Could feel the heat radiating off his body. Could smell him so clearly it made my mouth water and my thighs clench.

"Because I'm good at my job," I said. "And you're going to let me do it."

"Am I?"

His free hand came up, bracing against the wall beside my head. I was trapped between drywall and two-hundred-plus pounds of Alpha muscle, and my body was having all sorts of inappropriate reactions to it.

"Yes," I said, tilting my chin up. "You are.

Because despite what everyone says about you, you're not actually stupid.

You know you need medical clearance to play.

You know Coach Sullivan is already pissed about whatever you did to Dr. Mallory.

And you know that if you don't back up right now, I'll have you benched for the rest of the season. "

His eyes narrowed. "You threatening me, little Omega?"

Little. At five-foot-eight, I wasn't little to anyone except him.

"I'm doing my job. Back. Up."

The air between us crackled with tension. His scent was overwhelming, making my head swim and my core clench with need. My heat wasn't due for two weeks, but my body was already responding like it was tomorrow.

Then he stepped back.

Released my wrist.

Sat back down on the examination table like nothing had happened.

"Finish your exam, Doc," he said, that dangerous smile playing at his lips. "Wouldn't want to keep you from your job."

Ignoring his words, I steadied my hands and avoided his gaze as I took his blood pressure first. I noted in the computer that it was elevated and then went to check his reflexes, which were as I expected, perfect.

For the most part the Grizzlies star enforcer was on his best behavior for the entire rest of his physical.

But still, his eyes tracked my every movement, and the smokey pine scent continued to linger in the air.

"You're cleared," I said finally, backing away from him, realizing still that it was just our two bodies occupying the space."But that left shoulder needs work. I want to see you twice a week for treatment."

"Whatever you say, Doc." He stood then, stretching in a way made his t-shirt ripple from the muscles underneath. "Tuesday and Thursday work?"

"Fine."

I had my hand on the door handle when he spoke again.

"Harper."

I froze. I hadn't told him my first name.

"That's Dr. Graves to you."

"Sure thing, Doc." His smile was all teeth. "See you Tuesday."

I made it to my office before my legs gave out. Sinking into my chair, I pressed my palms against my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. My body was on fire, every nerve ending lit up from being near him.

This was bad. This was dangerous.

Knox Maddox was everything I'd come to Seattle to avoid an Alpha who saw through my suppressants, who made my carefully controlled life threaten to spiral. He was trouble wearing hockey gear and a smirk that promised to destroy everything I'd built.

My phone buzzed with a text message from Mark Richards as if he were some how psychic and knew the exam was over. How did it go?

I shot the text back to him after I’d stared at the screen for a long moment. It went alright. He's cleared to play.

Except everything didn’t feel alright and it was only my first damn day on the job.

But I'd handle it.

I had to.

Because the alternative letting an Alpha like Knox tear down the walls I’d put in place, would completely fucking destroy me.

I’d promised myself never again would that happen to me.

Never ever again.