My Mate, who couldn’t be my Mate.
I’d been turning it over in my head all day, and I’d come to a conclusion: I would have to quit the team. I’d told Rex Fairbanks yesterday, in between his calls to his lawyers, and he’d told me not to do anything rash. He’d called mesonagain, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to examine how that made me feel.
But I couldn’t see any other solution. Quitting the team would remove the obstacle.
Yeah, it would hurt; hockey had been my life for so long, and these guys were my family, now that the twins had moved east. I loved them, but not as much as I loved Lila. If she couldn’t be with me because I was a Teal Terror, then I would stop being a Teal Terror.
At least until we could figure out how to beat this.
Together.
It was a hope I was desperately holding onto. Because yeah, I’d give up the ice for Lila, but it would hurt.
If all those people up there, the donors, knew that tonight would be my last time out there… MyKteerrumbled in anger, and I swallowed down the bile in my throat.
There was a mutter, and I looked up to realize Torrk hadn’t left; he was struggling with his bowtie in front of the mirror. He turned expectantly toward the door a moment before Dakvaar opened the door
The older male glanced from me to the untouched garment bag hanging from my locker, then to Torrk.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he told Torrk, steppinginside and letting the door swing closed. “You need to stand next to me tonight and talk so I don’t have to.”
“No problem, boss.” Torrk held out the bow tie. “Here, tie this.” He pointed to his neck. “Here.”
As if Dakvaar wouldn’t know where a bow tie went.
With a suppressed sigh, the defenseman stepped over to Torrk and took the tie. He began working the knot with practiced efficiency, making me wonder how the fuckheknew so much about obscure human costuming. The locker room was quiet except for Torrk making small sounds of fascinated observation at the process, and the distant noise of the gala filtering down from the floor above us.
Dakvaar stood in front of the younger male, his attention on Torrk’s throat…but when he spoke, his words were meant for me. “You going to skate tonight, Kardok?”
I took a deep breath. “I think I have to.”
He nodded once, as if this was the right answer. “You going to skate in that?” He didn’t look at the tuxedo. He didn’t need to.
I exhaled slowly.
The honest answer was that I didn’t know. I’d put on that tuxedo for the dress rehearsal and felt like a male wearing a costume—performing something, reaching for something that wasn’t quite mine. It had looked fine. Joshua had said it looked better than fine. Lila had smiled at me and told me I lookedmagnificent.
But it wasn’t me.
Magnificentwasn’t me.
I was Kardok the Wicked. I was an orc, and I didn’t belong in this fancy human costume.
“I tried to skate in it,” I said to the tuxedo as much as to Dakvaar.
Torrk, to his credit, stayed quiet. He was watching me with his head tilted like a large bird, as the bow was carefully tied at his throat, his usual commentary apparently held in reserve for once.
Possibly Dakvaar was trying to choke him into submission.
The thought made my lips twitch ruefully. “I’ve been trying to fit into her world.”
“Did they let you?” Dakvaar asked.
The question was so Dakvaar; quiet, thoughtful. Forcing me to consider how to be better.
Did they? Had the humans allowed me to be part of their world, even when I’d acted civilized and worn their penguin suits?
Or had they looked at me—at the ballet, at the galas—as some sort of freak? Isn’t that why they were here tonight? To see if a primitive beast could ice dance like one of them?
