PUCKED BY MY BEST FRIEND’S HOCKEY ALPHA BROTHER

MELISSA'S POV

“Mate…?”

My voice didn’t come out, but I heard it in my head—loud, panicked, echoing.

My heart began pounding so hard it felt like it would burst right out of my chest. I could hear every beat, ringing in my ears.

No.

No, that wasn’t possible.

I couldn’t be his mate.

I was human.

And besides… Brittany told me last night—he already found his mate. He had a girlfriend.

So what was that?

What did he just say?

I must have heard wrong.

I had to.

“What’s going on here?”

A sharp, shrill voice sliced through the tension of the hallway. The sound seemed to snap Clinton out of his trance.

He immediately let go of my hand, the electric heat of his touch vanishing, and I watched his eyes fade from that terrifying sapphire back to their usual, icy light blue.

The crowd of students began to peel away as a girl stepped forward.

She was beautiful in a sharp, dangerous way, flanked by two girls who were clearly her minions. She stared at me with a look of such pure, unadulterated contempt that I felt myself shrink.

“How dare you touch my man!” she snapped.

My breath caught.

So… this was her.

His girlfriend.

His mate.

Something inside my chest twisted painfully, like it was being crushed.

I didn’t understand it. I shouldn’t feel like this. I should be relieved that his mate—it wasn’t me.

That was what I wanted… right?

Then why did it hurt so much?

I swallowed, forcing myself to stand as Clinton rose to his feet.

“I…he passed out,” I said quickly, my voice slightly shaky. “I was just trying to help. I only gave him CPR, nothing more…”

“You did what?” she shrieked, her voice rising sharply. “You fucking kissed my boyfriend?!”

Before I could even blink, a sharp crack echoed through the hall. My head snapped to the side, my cheek exploding in a burst of white-hot pain.

I gasped, my hand flying to my face as tears immediately blurred my vision. I could have sworn I saw stars.

“You bitch!” she continued, her voice filled with rage. “How dare you touch him!”

“How—how dare you touch her!”

The roar didn't come from her.

Everyone’s gaze swung toward Clinton.

His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white, and his eyes were blazing with a fury so intense it made the air feel like it was vibrating. His jaw was locked, his entire body radiating pure fury as he took a slow step forward.

“How dare you lay your hand on her, Cassandra?”

Fear flashed across her face instantly. She stumbled back, shaking her head slightly.

Clinton’s teeth clenched. “Apologize to her.”

She swallowed, not daring to move.

Before I could blink, his hand shot out, wrapping around her throat and lifting her slightly off the ground. She clawed at his hand, struggling, gasping for air.

“I said,” his voice dropped, darker, more dangerous, “apologize. Now.”

“Clinton!” I rushed forward, panic flooding me as I grabbed his arm. “Please…it’s fine! Let her go, you’ll kill her!”

Her face had already turned pale, her struggles weakening.

“I—I’m…” she choked out.

He released her instantly.

She dropped to the ground, coughing violently, clutching her throat. “I’m… sorry,” she stuttered.

I swallowed hard, unsure what to even say.

But before I could respond…Clinton grabbed my hand and pulled me away.

I didn’t resist. I just followed.

My mind was spinning, but beneath it all… there was a strange, unfamiliar warmth spreading through my chest.

He stood up for me.

Clinton—the cold, distant Clinton—stood up for me!

He pushed open a door, pulling me inside, and only then did I realize where we were.

The female washroom.

My breath caught slightly as he pulled his shirt over his head without hesitation, tossing it aside.

I froze.

He was… shirtless.

My eyes widened despite myself, my gaze instantly dropping to his torso. His abs were perfectly defined, every line sharp, every muscle sculpted like something unreal.

Better than I imagined.

Way better.

I barely registered him turning on the tap, soaking his shirt before pressing it gently against my cheek.

The cold fabric made me flinch slightly, but I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

Because my thoughts had completely betrayed me.

I wanted to touch him, to run my fingers over his abs, feel how hard they were, how real…

Suddenly, his hand caught mine.

My breath hitched as I slowly looked down. My hand had unconsciously already moved halfway toward him.

Heat rushed to my face instantly.

“I... I...” I stammered, my face heating up until it rivaled the slap mark on my cheek.

​His index finger pressed against my lips, silencing me.

I swallowed hard, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core. He wasn't looking at me anymore though, his gaze had shifted to one of the closed stalls at the end of the row.

​He walked over, his movements quiet and calculated, and kicked the door open.

​“Ah!”

​Brittany and her mate scrambled apart instantly, the guy frantically buckling his belt while Britt looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

I rolled my eyes. Clinton must have tracked her scent, but the level of rage on his face seemed extreme, even for an overprotective brother.

Before I comprehend what was happening, he grabbed the guy by the neck and threw him out of the stall like he weighed nothing. The guy hit the floor hard, barely able to react before Clinton was on him, fists slamming down repeatedly.

“Clinton, stop!” Brittany rushed forward, grabbing his arm, dropping to her knees. “Please, stop! You’re hurting him!”

He shoved her off like she was nothing and stood up, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Get the fuck out,” he snapped.

The guy didn’t dare wait another second, even though he was bleeding, stumbling, he ran.

I stood there, completely lost.

What just happened?

Why would Clinton beat up Brittany's mate like that?

And why did Brittany look like she had just committed a crime?

Clinton turned to her, his expression still dark, dangerous. “You better have a damn good explanation for this,” he muttered. “Or you’re done. You hear me?”

Tears streamed down Brittany’s face.

That was enough.

I rushed to her side, crouching down. “Clinton, that’s enough,” I said firmly. “I don’t know what she did, but please… just let it go.”

He looked at me, ran a hand through his hair again, like he was trying to hold himself together and then… he exhaled sharply.

“Do you even know what she just did?” he started, his voice tight…

Then he stopped and I watched his jaw clenched.

“You two,” he said coldly, stepping back. “Get to class.”

And just like that… he turned and walked away.