Page 10

Story: Beak Performance

Max

“Hey, Raven,” a concerned voice interrupted my thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Without opening my eyes, I knew who stood before me. I usually felt his presence near, but I’d been too occupied with my dumb sense of humour.

“I’m okay,” I snapped, wanting to apologise for my tone almost immediately when I opened my eyes and they fell on his face.

My gaze roamed his dark brown hair, a little wavy from the sweat, his crinkled eyes, and then followed his straight nose down to the symmetrical lips.

Oh Viking, you are so stunning.

“You scared me out there,” he muttered, giving me a small smile.

“I’m okay,” I repeated, kinder this time.

“Do you think you can play tonight?” He cocked his head like an inquisitive bird.

Shouldn’t that be my move, Captain?

“One hundred percent. It’s just a nick.”

“Let me see it.” Arne arched an eyebrow, surveying me out of his cornflower blue eyes.

I returned the gesture.

“Come on, Raven. Let me see your lip. Please.” My captain took a step closer and peered down at me.

I lowered the ice pack to reveal my swollen mouth.

“Shit,” Arne muttered, getting to his knees. His fingertips brushed over my chin as if to convince himself I was okay.

My body reacted to him the way it always did. His presence woke a ravenous hunger inside me. And Arne on his knees…

By the Night Goddess!

It catapulted me back to that night when I’d visited him in his dreams. I gasped at the contact, and he did too. He snatched his hand back. Our gazes tangled in the other, and for a moment I was sure he would kiss me again.

Arne made exactly the same sound as when he’d taken me into his mouth, and I reached out to him automatically, cupping his jaw.

“I’m going to kick Chase Harper’s ass tonight.” Nik’s voice made Arne jump out of my personal space and back up to his feet as if he got zapped.

“Leave him to me, Kleiner.” Bo and Nikolai appeared in the doorway, the massive Troll nudging his fellow defenceman with his elbow.

Kleiner.

Nik was a year older than me, about two hundred pounds of pure muscle and spite, and a head shorter than the Forest Troll.

The ice pack went back on my face. They didn’t need to see my blush.

“Nobody’s going to kick Harper’s ass,” Arne informed them with a glance back at me. “Let’s just focus on the game tonight.”

“I will if he starts shit. You know he will.” Nik sniffed haughtily as he took his training jersey off over his head.

“I’ll give you my word on it,” Guns, our goalie, chimed in. He stopped in front of his locker and took his protective pads off with his usual slow and measured movements. Slow off the ice, that is. On the ice, that man protected his home like a viper. “But we’ll kick the Gators’ asses, anyway.” With a grin at our captain, he, too, stripped, exposing heavily tattooed forearms and a muscular chest.

“I know I should tell you to give it a rest, but will you listen?”

“Nope,” Bo answered Arne’s rhetorical question, staring down at his phone with a slightly furrowed brow.