Page 21 of Just One Bite

Chapter Fifteen

Parker

I can’t stop thinking about her in my bed.

Her attraction to me is based solely on the fact that I’d pinned her down and used my tongue to scent her.

She’d think that about any man who’d done the same.

That’s a good thing, right? That’s what I want.

Because I don’t have time for a girlfriend.

Even though I’ve willingly agreed to be her fake boyfriend in this scenario to help her.

But that’s totally different. All I need do is protect her, and scenting her is a huge part of that.

I guess I didn’t need to lick her thighs.

Was it my fault her thighs were so lickable and enticing?

And leaving that mark on her thigh was for …

me. Okay, fuck, it was for me, but that doesn’t need to mean anything.

As it stands now, we’re friends and everyone thinks she’s my girlfriend, so that forbids any other guy from leaving marks on her thighs, and that’s a good thing.

I think. Now I’m back to where I started: in practice thinking about Olivia under me, in my bed, panting and saying my name.

I’m nearly tackled to the ice as a teammate flies by.

“Head in the game, Captain!”

Right. I speed past Zant on my right to maneuver for the puck.

The game rules are pretty simple to follow.

I’d started playing young, and thankfully—because it could be lucrative—my dad had no problems paying for gear for all my games.

Not that he stayed for any of them. But I’d learned easily enough.

One, unlike hockey, you can only touch the puck with your stick with no exceptions, and that can be really hard when the puck is rigged to move around and bounce all over the ice.

Bumping the puck with any other part of your body will get you a deduction.

The other stuff is pretty standard. There are eight people on the ice at a time, and we don’t have standard offense and defense positions like in hockey.

Except for the goalie, we do have one of those.

You need to get the puck through the net for a goal.

Only, how you get those goals is the fun part.

Shifting, hitting, and bleeding are all permitted.

It’s versatile. Some teams choose to forgo the fighting unless necessary. Rage champions are known for the different ways they play the game—some are great fighters, others quick and strategic.

As team captain, I have to be able to do it all.

This is a practice scrimmage, so we're split into teams. I clip an opposing teammate, knocking him to the ground, but my focus is on Zant. It’s the last drill of the day, and I’m trying to trigger a riot play.

“Come on, big boy.” Zant taunts me.

I growl and plunge my blades into the ice.

The ice is an irritating nuisance but necessary for evening the playing field.

The great thing about Rage is that werewolves and vampires can play together.

It was the first game of its kind, and it all started at Doxlothia.

Soon after, a lot of the other sports followed suit with combination teams.

I slap the puck to Chase, hoping he blocks it even though he's on the opposing side. He’s our new goalie and he needs the practice.

He dives onto the ice, missing the block completely but it’s fine, we’re working on it.

“Chase, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Sorry, Cap!” He stumbles to his feet with a wave.

I swoop in for the puck again and look for someone to pass to. Anyone. Anyone at all, but all these fuckers want to do is fight each other on the ice. This year, no one wants to listen to strategy. They all want to fight, and it’s hard to be mad at them because that’s my favorite part too.

I fight the frustration and decide to take it myself, but then I see Ryker is wide open and ready. He’s a new transfer student and one of the only ones who listens.

He’s quick with it and hits the puck between two other teammates and passes them on the left, taking it right to the goal.

Finally.

I’m about to go get it when Zant blocks me.

“Didn’t we talk about this?” I say.

I give him one more second to move out of my way. Threaten a man with an ass kicking and that should be enough.

“We’re tied now. Gotta do what I gotta do.”

“Bad move.” I grit my teeth and rush him till his skates lose contact with the ice and we’re crawling and fighting for leverage.

Meeting your match on the ice is tough. When someone knocks you onto the ice, you have twenty seconds to get up. If the person who tackles you is able to keep you down, well—

The whistle blows, and the coach points to center ice. “Parker and Zant, in the circle.”

I wink at Zant and yank him back to his feet, knowing I’m about to kick his ass. When the score is tied and you can keep your opponent down for more than twenty seconds, it triggers a riot play. A play I’m always trying to trigger because it ends the game early.

Whoever challenges and wins, will end the tie and the game.

I strip my gloves, and my skin itches with the coming shift.

Weres are only permitted to shift up to fifty percent during games unless there’s a riot play against another Were opponent.

That keeps things equal. Also, werewolves have trouble with traction on the ice in shifted form.

I tried it once and laughed with my teammates on how ridiculous it looked on video.

Zant sighs. “I didn't want to spend all my time in recovery today, but here we go.”

We’ve been doing this dance since we were kids. Zant is one of the first people who ever saw me shift. It’s only fitting he helps me train while I kick his ass every day in practice.

Because of Rage, shifting is as natural as breathing. My fingers shift into claws, and hair coats my arms. Our bodies collide in a final riot play, and every strike counts.

Last year, I was elected captain at the end of the year when our previous captain graduated.

Zant was ecstatic. He’d seen it coming, but I didn't. I have the C on my uniform, but it’s like I’m wearing a costume.

Our team this year is at a disadvantage.

For one, there are no pack affiliations.

All the previous successful teams at Doxlothia were stacked teams, where the majority of the players were part of the same pack or part of two coworking packs.

Now it’s just me, a few lone wolves, and a few vampires like Zant.

Zant is bad at scrap work with Weres, which is exactly why I needed to trigger the play so he can practice.

I’m left-handed and so I leave my right side open for him to make it an easy blind spot. But he’s too slow. I clock him with a claw to the face and lunge to tackle him to the ice. We trade a few blows, and he clocks me in the jaw.

“Enough. Parker’s game,” Coach Zepheus calls. “Honestly, boys. What was that? I’ve never seen you guys less cohesive. You need to communicate more. Owens, come see me.”

I stand and leave my arm out to help Zant up, and he slips on his own blood. “Aw, buddy. I went easy on ya.”

“Shut the fuck up, Owens.” He winces.

“It’s Captain here, bud.”

He flips me off. Gotta say, I enjoy the one and only time I’ve ever had any authority over him.

I skate over to Coach with my tail between my legs because I already know what he’s going to say.

Practice was a shitshow. Coach Zepheus is a big, burly Were with a two-year-old daughter who comes to visit him nearly every day.

She’s practically our mascot at this point.

I kinda wish she was here right now because he’s less inclined to rip me a new one when she’s tugging on his leg.

“What’s up, Coach?”

“You saw what I saw out there. You tell me.”

“There’s a lot of new guys on the team this year. We’re still learning how to work together.”

“You’re right, and it’s up to you to lead them. Your predecessor believed you could do this.”

That, he did. At least someone did. My dad had barely bothered to change his tone when I told him I’d been picked as the team captain.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” It was loud on the other line, and I could barely hear him.

“Uh, yeah. This is huge.”

“I know. I meant, you’re certain you can handle that?”

“Yeah, I’ve been working hard, practicing every day—”

“It takes more than that to be a team captain. We’re talking about real leadership here.”

“I know. I can do it.”

“Good then, son. Congratulations.”

He’d have a heart attack on the spot if he ever uttered the words “I’m proud of you.”

“Things will be different this year. You’re playing a completely different game. Being a leader is more than being a good player.”

“Yes, sir. I know, Coach.”

Last year, Doxlothia had a record-book year. Our team was solid from front to back. It will be hard to follow up.

He uncrosses his arms. “I know you do. You’re more than capable. I’m just waiting to see it.”

Him and me both. I’m starting to think I’ve tricked everyone who’s ever met me.

Somehow, I made it on the most successful Rage team, we won the tournament, and then I was chosen for team captain.

It felt like a dream at the time, and now I’m still in the dream but not waking up.

And the dream is gradually getting harder and morphing into a nightmare.

How am I supposed to get the team ready for the season, let alone continue our streak at the tournament?

And if I do mess up, my chances of going pro are basically nothing.

“I can do it, Coach.” Hollow words for an undercover fuckup.

I’m secretly a choker, and no one has figured it out yet.

But only because the ripe time for my misery hasn’t shown itself; the universe is waiting for me to show my ass to the world.

What I wouldn’t give for just one phone call with my mom to talk to her about it all.

Her pep talks were the cure for everything.

“You’re ready, Parker. You gotta believe in yourself a little more. Your team needs you. I know you got your hands full this season, but we’ll get things in shape.”

After a few more minutes of lecture, I leave him to go check on Zant who is bellyaching and wiping blood off his face with a towel.

I move to sit next to him on the bench.

“You know … I told you we needed to work on your groundwork.”

He glares first, then hits me in the shoulders. “Would you get me some blood, you asshole? ”

“Already got it,” Chase says.

Chase whips around us and throws us a blood bag. We’re only allotted a certain number for injury, so we need to use them sparingly. His jersey is the only one without blood on it. He told me the reason he wanted to be goalie was to avoid fighting.

“Thanks, Chase. Everyone else besides Zant, let’s burn them out. Rapid fire. Sudden death.”

The guys groan in unison. Sudden death is the complete obliteration of the remaining strength in our muscles by passing the puck around till we literally can’t move. That’s how my captain taught me.

I sit next to Zant to ensure he doesn’t pass out. I’m going to have to finish sudden death regardless, might as well procrastinate.

“Worried about me?”

“Just making sure you participate in sudden death.” I wrap my arm around him, and he shrugs me off.

“You say I need practice, but you’re the one daydreaming on the ice.”

“I’m a model leader. I would never.”

“Uh-huh.” He wipes the bit of blood from his chin. “It has nothing to do with a certain Noxx House girl?”

“No.” I shrug. “We’re casual. Just for show.”

“Yeah, sure. That’s why you’re scenting her in the hallway.”

“Scenting her is part of it.”

Zant knows me. I don’t even fuck girls for the fun of it. “Stop fucking lying to me.”

“I’m not. She’s …” Just a woman? I can’t say that because I don’t invite women in my room to sleep and cuddle all night. I didn’t tell him about Olivia staying in my room even when he could smell her immediately. “Under my protection.”

Not a lie.

“Okay Mr. Noble. Good thing because she’s going to need it.

The council is on one lately. Everything is on fire.

They’re announcing funding cuts today. Some programs are getting cut entirely.

Olivia is lucky Octavia holds a council seat and her mother is on the board for the dance department.

It’s only going to get worse. The Weres are going to back a nomination for Cane. ”

“Oh, fuck no. ”

I’m starting to think I’ll never be rid of that parasite. Cane will continue to latch on to anything close to me and gradually find ways to suck the joy from my life.

“Yep, and everyone here loves him, so he’s probably gonna get it. If only there was someone we knew who would be a good rival … Maybe the beloved Rage captain? If you’d just campaign, I can help you.”

“You know I don’t want to. I can’t be on the council. I have my hands full with all of this. You saw the practice. I can’t even—” I sigh and run my hands through my hair. “I don’t know what you think I’d be able to do.”

“You gotta get Mr. Owens’s voice out of your head.” Zant’s smile is gone, and he’s staring out into the rink where the rest of the team is struggling. Chase and Ryker are bickering back and forth because Chase wants to fuck around and do goalie shit, and it’s interfering with Ryker’s shots.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The worst part about being your friend for so long is knowing how long you’ve let him fuck with your head. I wouldn’t bring it up if I thought you couldn’t do it. One day, you’ll stop fighting it.”

Zant’s encouraged me to accept my alpha blood since we were kids.

When we were younger, it was probably because he wanted me to beat up Cane and put him in his place, but when we were teens, he started telling me I was wasting my potential.

But how? Rage is my thing. It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense and brought me a real sense of purpose.

Why do I have to have more than one thing?

Why do I need to make my own pack when my mother’s rejected me after she died?

They had their reasons. Can’t I have mine?

I used to want to accept it and take over her pack. I dreamed of the leader I’d be when I became of age, but when she died, she took all that confidence with her.

If Cane gets the council seat, Gavin and his family are going to have trouble. Cane’s pack would get stronger. Then Aster and Barrett will go unchecked with the majority of Were packs in the school.

Fuck.

Parker Owens: The Golden Boy is in all the papers, but I’m an average player who knows how to win Rage matches, awaiting the moment someone else will come in to show the others I’m not that special. Not pro material. I’m just Parker. A lone wolf at heart.