Omega Offside (Hockey Heats #1)

Chapter 1

The Detroit Cougars were on the last legs of their first roadie of the NHL season when Cody woke up feeling painful and tender and–and wanting and realized–

Fuck. Fuck. His heat was early.

“No,” he said in horror, grabbing his phone off the hotel nightstand where it was charging and swiping to his calendar. Because he could have sworn that he wasn’t due until next month. When he’d be home, if nothing else, and with all his fucking meds. “No, no, no…”

His calendar informed him that Cody hadn’t been wrong.

He was supposed to have his heat three weeks from now.

Which, yeah, that was why Cody didn’t have his prescriptions refilled.

He was only allowed to fill them the week before his heat was due, because obviously omegas couldn’t be fucking trusted with their own basic ass medical care.

Cody was allowed an emergency two doses in the highly unlikely event that his heat hit without warning, and even that he’d had to beg for.

The libido inhibitors that brought his heats down from agony to manageable and made sure he didn’t devolve into mindless need were as highly regulated as narcotics.

For about the millionth time in his life, Cody wished he was one of the lucky omegas. That his suppressant implant got rid of his heats entirely, or at least dulled the heat fever.

Instead he still had to deal with this sort of bullshit three times a year.

“Fuck,” Cody whispered again, staring down at his phone.

The onset of his heats were always sudden and painful, especially the first two days—and they lasted for seven.

Seven days of misery, of cramps, loss of appetite, nausea, and a low grade fever.

Seven days of choking down libido inhibitors and pain killers and dousing himself in scent blocker so he could still do his fucking job and make sure no one was the wiser.

Having to go through the start of his heat when he was only hours from stepping onto the ice to play a game was going to be a nightmare.

The few times he’d had to before had been so, so fucking hard.

“Get a grip,” Cody hissed to himself. “You’ve done it before, you can do it again.

” Again and again and again, as long as he got to play.

As long as he could still pull his weight on the team, showing everyone that he did deserve to be playing.

That he’d gotten into the NHL on merit, not because he’d opened his legs.

Cody was the only out omega in the NHL, and he’d had every single vile thing imaginable spewed at him.

He was maybe the most surprised out of everyone that he’d been able to make it this far, but he certainly wasn’t letting anyone else know that.

If it somehow got out that Cody still had heats, that his suppressants hadn’t gotten rid of them…

He already knew what everyone would say, because he’d heard it all before.

A detriment to the team.

Uncontrollable actions.

What kind of player has a hair trigger?

Probably slept his way to the top.

This stupid heat wasn’t supposed to happen for twenty-six more days, but Cody had lived through enough heats to know his own fucking body.

He knew the signs of pre-heat. His pre-heat was a criminally short one, giving him only a few hours of warning at the most, so he’d trained himself to pay attention to any possible sign so he could prepare.

At least he was waking up to it this time, with some time to steel himself before morning skate and then the Cougars’ game that afternoon. He lived in fear of the day he started preheat during a game, too caught up in the play to notice his symptoms until–

“Focus,” he muttered, pressing his hands over his eyes. He couldn’t think about that nightmare scenario right now. He needed to get ready for breakfast, then get through morning skate.

With shaking hands, Cody pulled his emergency kit out of his bag and opened it to reveal a bottle of extra-strength over-the-counter painkillers, his prescription scent-blocking soap, several pairs of the best absorption underwear on the market, and the two lonely foil packets containing his sublingual libido inhibitors, the only ones he was allowed to take without a call to his doctor.

During a normal heat Cody went through three tabs a day for a total of twenty one tabs in order to see himself through. Two doses meant he needed to be smart about when he used them.

Thank fucking god it was the weekend and their game was at two.

If he took a dose at noon, it would get him through the game.

Then all he would have to do would be hunker down in his hotel room until it was time to leave tomorrow morning.

The remaining dose would get him through the plane ride and the trip back to his place.

The time before, after, and in between those doses would be misery, but he’d get through it.

He always did.

***

After leaving a message on his doctor’s emergency line, Cody took a deep breath and went down to breakfast. Thankfully the nausea hadn’t started yet so Cody was able to choke something down, but the anxious ball in the pit of his stomach about how the rest of the day would go made his appetite poor anyway.

He spent most of the meal pushing his food around his plate and letting the game day chatter wash over him.

Leo Blanter, the Cougars’ captain, was eyeing him when Cody lifted his head, his brown eyes narrowed.

For one heart-stopping moment, Cody was seized with panic.

Not only was Leo an alpha, but he had a very sensitive nose and he paid attention.

It made him a fantastic captain and great friend besides, but—

Cody lived in fear of being sniffed out.

The logical part of him was at least mostly sure that Leo wouldn’t rat him out if he knew.

Leo was good people. Calm and confident as a captain, good-natured off the ice.

He’d been nothing but friendly and welcoming when Cody had joined the Cougars as a rookie—as an out omega—and he’d been the first person in Cody’s life to start shooting down the press whenever they insinuated that Cody didn’t deserve to play in the big leagues.

Most of the time when Cody’s name came up in a positive light, it was still always attached to a but.

He’s an omega, but he’s fucking fast.

He’s an omega, but his instincts are good.

He’s an omega, but he knows how to score.

Leo though…Leo always took that but and turned it into an and.

Yeah, he’s an omega—and we’re fucking lucky to have him.

In the six years they’d known each other, he’d become one of Cody’s best friends.

But Leo was like everyone else in one respect; he thought Cody had a handle on his heats. Cody didn’t think he’d be able to stand it if finding out the truth made Leo realize that Cody was more trouble than he was worth. Everyone else in Cody’s life already thought so.

Besides, Cody had been lying to Leo for six years. How did you forgive someone for that?

“All right there, Cody?” Leo asked carefully.

Cody ducked his head so he couldn’t see the concern in Leo’s warm brown eyes.

This close to Cody’s full-blown heat, the thought of someone genuinely caring about him was enough to make his face flush and his breath come short.

It didn’t help that Leo was so handsome, with his strong jawline and thick brown hair that always managed to lay perfectly, so unlike Cody’s messy spill of black curls.

And Leo wasn’t the biggest on the team, but he still had a good few inches on Cody, who was built for speed and thus was smaller and slighter than most guys in the NHL.

Sometimes Leo would sling an arm around Cody’s shoulders and it made Cody feel small in a way he… didn’t hate.

But what really got Cody was how kind Leo was. So kind that whenever he smiled at Cody, it sort of made his stomach hurt. And his scent was just…so comforting. Sun-warmed grass right before fresh rain.

You’re fucking pathetic, Cody admonished himself. Being in heat was still no excuse for thinking of Leo as…as someone who might make Cody’s heat easier. “Just slept wrong,” he forced out.

“Alright,” Leo said, still sounding careful.

“But I’m good to play,” Cody rushed to assure him, jerking his head back up.

Leo’s lips quirked the tiniest bit. “Cody, you’d say you were good to play if you were bleeding from a head wound.”

Cody bristled, hand automatically pushing aside his curls to touch the faint scar on his forehead. “That was one time!”

Leo held up his hands. “I’m just saying–”

“Like you haven’t played through an injury,” Cody said mulishly.

Leo’s eyes narrowed again. “Are you injured?”

“No!” Cody yelped. “For fuck’s sake, I just didn’t sleep well.”

“Alright,” Leo said again, thankfully letting it drop.

Cody tried to get a few extra bites down before they all headed over to the rink.

He managed to take his painkillers without anyone else the wiser, and he was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed he was a little shaky on his skates.

He got through practice unscathed, and made it back to the hotel in one piece.

He’d showered with his scent-blocking soap at the rink, but he took another shower once he was back in his hotel room.

He’d become increasingly aware of the fact that he was starting to slick, and with that came the all too familiar anxiety about leaking through his clothes, even though he never had before. But he couldn’t quash the worry.

Once he emerged from his shower, he pulled on a fresh set of briefs, set his alarm for noon, then sprawled over his bed and hoped he wouldn’t wake up wanting to die.

As he tried to force himself to nap, brain spinning circles about how the next twenty-four hours would be a misery, Cody couldn’t help fantasizing about what it might be like if he did have someone to help him through his heats.

The scent of warm grass and fresh rain came unbidden to Cody’s mind right before he fell asleep.