Page 17 of Two Guys One Puck (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #2)

SEVENTEEN

KTYTOR

H e’s under my skin, and I hate it. It’s all I can think about for the next week. I want to fight him, but I also want him in my bed, and neither is okay.

I train harder than I ever have in my life, but I cannot work out why he got to me so badly that night. He’s always annoys me, but this is a whole new level.

Why did I even go over and talk to him? He was flirting with a woman, and I could have left him to pick her up, but I couldn’t watch him go home with her. Her hands all over him awoke a visceral poison in my veins. There was no stopping myself from going over there.

I don’t even know why. He’d probably slept with a dozen women since getting back to university. Everyone knew his reputation. Most of the Gods were that way. It was one of their recruiting points. I roll my eyes, grabbing the tape for my stick.

I can’t think about this. I need to get my head in the right space for the game.

Taping my stick is a religious experience.

It’s my time before I get on the ice to focus on those things that matter.

My brother and my mother and getting them here with me to safety.

Money is the only thing that would solve our problem.

Money opens doors for lawyers and visas.

So my brother can go to school here. So maybe one day, I can convince my mother to move here and not be forced to watch the country she loves so much burn to ash.

I know she won’t leave, but I have hope to give her some peace.

Every day, I sacrifice to get them here. I am their only hope. My mother works herself to the bone because money is tight for everyone with fucking inflation the way it is. I’m running out of time.

I need to get drafted this season, which means winning.

I won’t let Seaborn or anyone else stand in my way.

I get in position for the face-off, and I feel Seaborn’s gaze on me. I don’t look up. I can’t let him get in my head. I win the puck and take off towards their goal. Seaborn comes at me, and I spin the puck away from him. But he’s everywhere. When he said he knew me better, he wasn’t lying.

Had I let him see too much at camp?

Did he spend the rest of the summer studying my moves?

Whatever he’d done, he shut me down over and over. Every minute that ticked down on the clock made me more and more enraged.

We end the period 0-0.

Coach is yelling while the entire team sits in the locker room.

I take my skates off and dig through my bag, finding a pack of cheap cigarettes at the bottom.

I carefully peel away the plastic. They’re old, but I don’t care.

I take one and matches and go to the shower.

I feel Coach’s eyes on me, but he doesn’t stop me.

He knows to leave me alone when I have to reset my head.

I turn on the shower to get the steam going so I don’t set off the smoke alarm, and I sit on the opposite bench, putting the cig between my lips. I strike a match and hold it to the end.

I know I shouldn’t smoke. It’s the worst thing an athlete can do, but it’s the only vice I’ve allowed myself, and only on occasion when I need to remember home.

I close my eyes, drawing the smoke into my lungs, taking myself back there. I can almost taste the country air sitting with my grandfather on the porch as the sun comes up. His first smoke of the day before the farm chores. I miss home when life was simple.

I bask in the memory of it and smoke the whole thing.

My head is better when I put it out.

We go back out for the second period, and Seaborn pinky waves at me across the ice. Asshole using my own move against me but I’m not annoyed anymore. I’m ready to ruin him now so I can ruin him later.

We come together in a clash after I win the face-off, bodies slamming together. I fight him, and he fights back. It gets more and more physical with every possession. We are two fuses about to ignite. It’s only a matter of time.

But this time, I’m not annoyed. Not like last season. I like it. Every possession is another chance to win. I finally score on him with a minute left in the second period.

I throw my arm in the arm and scream. “YES!”

His eyes are on me again.

I glance over my shoulder and smile. “One point closer to winning our wager, Anastasia.”

“Are you having a stroke? Can you smell toast?”

“No? Are you okay?” I ask.

“You called me Anastasia?” Confusion shows in his brows.

“Very famous princess. You should know her.”

He rolls his eyes. “You can’t out skate me, so you’re back to insults, baby?”

“You’re just so cute and dainty like a princess. I can’t wait to defile you later.” I wink.

He scoffs and skates away.

They score early in the third, tying the game. And that makes me mad. I do all this fucking work, and our defense can’t hold them off. I take more shots, but Wolfe is too good. He’s everywhere, and when he’s not, Seaborn is. Between the two of them, they have me totally shut down.

I have to find a way to win this game. I can’t lose to him.

“I know I’m a beast, Belle, but you don’t have to dry hump me now. I promise I’ll let you do it later.” I try to elbow past him, but he slams his forearm into my kidney, knocking the wind out of me. I grunt in pain and go down to one knee.

“You’ve finally lost it, haven’t you?”

“You don’t have to resort to insults. I know you’re frustrated, Elsa, but let it go.”

“I can’t fucking deal with you.” He shoves off of me, getting back with his team in possession of the puck.

“Want me to take him for a while?” Archangel asks him.

He better fucking not. “No, I’m good.”

The next time I get the puck, he checks me into the boards and steals the puck. I’m fucking hurting when I get back up, and that bastard smiles at me.

“I can’t wait to be inside you later,” he whispers.

My heart hammers in my ears. I can’t let that happen. I don’t even know why I can’t, but I have to win this fucking game.

“Nothing to say? Too excited?” he taunts.

“Simmer down, Merida. I’ll let you ride me later. I know is all you can think about.”

Seaborn shakes his head. “Now you’re just making princesses up.”

“Have you not seen Brave? Christ, you uncultured swine.”

“Sorry, I have better things to do than watch Disney movies. Like get laid.” How does he know that bothers me?

I double down so he doesn’t see it. “Keep your hair up, Rapunzel. I’ll invade your tower tonight.”

“Where are you even coming up with these?”

“Is called wit. Maybe you should try it, Ariel.”

I keep coming up with them. It’s almost as fun as scoring, and since he’s shutting that down, I keep throwing them at him.

“Come at me like your tiger, Jasmine.” I see them chipping away at his shield.

“I think the only princess name you haven’t called me is Tiana.”

“Because Tiana is a queen, and I’m not a frog. Duh.”

“I’d ask you if these games work on women, but I know you don’t get any.” His comment gets under my skin because all I can think about is all the women that will be all over him if he wins this game, and it’s on.

We’re basically in a game ourselves. No one outside of us matters. We are at each other’s throats, and I’m only not hitting him because I can’t risk time in the box. But it almost breaks out into blows a couple of times.

Coach pulls me out.

“What is wrong with you today?” Coach asks in his gruff voice when I sit on the bench.

“He’s gotten better,” I spit.

“Not that much. You need to get your head in this. I’ve never seen you this worked up.”

“I’m not worked up.” I laugh because I’m not angry. I’m the clearest I’ve ever been.

“I have tapes that will fucking prove otherwise.”

“Then you’ll see he’s improved. If I had some help from the wings maybe I wouldn’t have to carry the team on my back.”

We tie, and in the grand scheme of things, it’s not bad, but I’m all worked up and can’t come down. I dread coming face-to-face with Seaborn when I walk out of the locker room because I don’t know what I’ll do.

Maybe I should avoid him and just go out with my team, but the risk of seeing him in a bar again punches me in the gut.

No matter how tonight is going to go, I’d much rather have him to myself.