Luca sees it coming. He’s grinning before I even make contact, laughing when I slam him chest-first into the ice and swing wild with my stick like it’s a goddamn blade. He ducks it easily, spins, sweeps my feet, and then we’re both down—snarling, sliding, limbs tangled like we’re trying to fuck and fight at the same time. The way he moves is fluid, practiced. Mine is not. Mine is all rage and jagged hunger and thirty-six hours without a fix, chasing pain like it’s the only thing that’ll shut the noise off in my skull.
He grabs my collar and yanks me up just enough to hiss into my face. “Oh, baby, you do get prettier when you’re feral.”
I snarl, knee him in the thigh, elbow him in the jaw. “Don’t call me baby, you silicone-fueled psychosexual ornament.”
He barks a laugh even as I shove him. “Someone’s cranky! Did the big bad goalie forget to leave you a chew toy?”
“I’ll rip your tongue out and staple it to the ice,” I hiss, fully riding the high of fury now, fists tight in his jersey, heart pounding out a rhythm that sounds suspiciously like mine mine mine mine mine—
Luca gasps dramatically, then licks his fucking teeth. “You want to hit me or kiss me, golden boy? I can’t tell anymore.”
“Try me,” I spit, shoving him back again, only for him to grab my wrist mid-motion and twist, sending us both crashing to the ice so hard I see stars. I can taste blood in my mouth, not sure if it’s his or mine or both, and I don’t care. It’s better than silence. It’s better than nothing.
Somewhere in the background, I hear Kai exhale like a disappointed dad. “Julian,” he calls, so dry he could be reading an obituary. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“Shut up, Doctor Death,” I snap, trying to kick free of Luca, who’s now sitting on my stomach with a smirk like he just wonprom king.
Kai mutters something about aneurysms and poor life choices, but he doesn’t skate over. Just stands at the edge, arms crossed, probably calculating how many painkillers I’ll beg for later and whether he’s in the mood to say yes.
Luca leans down until our noses almost touch, sweat and spit and melting ice hanging in the air between us while his eyes dance with heat and mockery. “You miss him,” he whispers. “It’s pathetic. And hot. Mostly pathetic.”
I grab a fistful of his jersey and yank him down harder, dragging his mouth even closer to mine. “You want pathetic?” I murmur back. “You’re calling Kai Daddy.”
He flinches—only a little—but then he grins, looking absolutely fucking delighted. “Ooooh,” he hums, “youarepaying attention.”
So I slam my head into his and we both see white, and even that isn’t enough, because nothing fucking is.
Kai groans from the edge of the rink like the sound physically pains him, and when he finally pushes off and skates toward us, he moves with all the grace of a man who’s already planning my slow and sterile death. He reaches us in seconds and wastes no time—slides to a clean stop, grabs Luca by the back of his jersey, and pries him off me like a mom pulling her toddler out of a candy aisle fistfight.
Luca immediately clings to him like a lovesick fucking koala, arms looped around Kai’s neck, legs probably ready to wrap around his waist if not for the skates. “You’re always so handsy, doctor,” Luca purrs, nuzzling into Kai’s jaw with a sigh so theatrical I almost gag.
Kai doesn’t even blink or flinch, and he certainly doesn’t indulge the chaos. He just holds Luca away from his body by the collar like a wet cat while his gaze drops to me instead.
“You,” he says, his voice clipped and clinical. “Did you take anything since I dosed you last?”
I glare up at him from the ice, breathing hard, ribs aching and lips wet with blood. “No,” I snarl.
His eyes narrow slightly. “And why not?”
I hate the question, hate the implication behind it, and hate the way he’s still watching me like a half-cracked experiment that might explode if he stops paying attention. But what I hate most is that the real answer sticks in my throat like a fucking secret.
So I snap.
“Because—” I cut myself off, biting the words back as my fists clench and my voice drops lower. “Because he promised.”
Kai’s expression doesn’t change, but I feel the temperature shift anyway. His eyes flick once across my face, reading every twitch like a vital sign, before he gives a single quiet nod that somehow makes it clear the answer said far more than I intended it to.
Luca, of course, perks up like a hyena sniffing blood.
“Promised what, pretty boy?” he asks, grinning wide enough to show every tooth he owns, the look on his face pure menace and joy like this is his favorite soap opera and I just dropped a brand-new episode.
“None of your fucking business,” I groan, throwing my head back against the ice as if hitting it hard enough might knock me into a coma so I don’t wake up until Rafe comes home.
Luca gasps, absolutely delighted. “Oh my god, it’s a sex promise, isn’t it? Is he gonna tape your mouth or your cock this time?”
“Luca,” Kai sighs.
“I’m just saying—”
