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 hungslightly 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.
