Page 443 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

I stare at myself, and the monster stares back, and my stomach stays put.

Huh.

I'll never like what I see.

I'll never see whatever the fuck Ivy sees when she looks at me and smiles. But standing here, in a face cage shaped like a wolf's jaw, in my gear, about to play my first game in weeks…

I can live with this.

That's new.

The face cage is fine. I'll give Whiskey that, at least. It's matte black, lightweight, with thin curved bars that follow the line of my jaw without touching it, sweeping forward into two points and then building up from there, stopping just below my eyes.

It doesn't hide anything.

"Welllll?" Whiskey asks, sidling back up to me.

It's okay.

"Fuck yeah!" He holds his glove up for a fist bump. I reluctantly nudge my glove against his. "Plague owes me fifty bucks. I said you'd like it, he said you'd tolerate it."

I tolerate it.

"FIFTY. FUCKIN'. BUCKS."

Plague doesn't look up from taping his stick. "He doesn't like it."

I do, I relent, if only so Whiskey doesn't get sad. I like it.

"FUCK YEAH."

Valek, lacing his skates in the corner, glances up at me. "It suits you. Very 'do not pet.'"

"I would pet him," Whiskey says. "Watch. He lets me." He reaches up and pats my head. "See?"

Because you don't stop, I sign.

"Damn right I don't."

Coach bangs on the door and yells a two minute warning for warmups, and Thane jolts, adjusting his pads and body armor. He's been in a quiet mood today. He's stressed. Worried we'll lose our first game back out on the ice as a complete pack in a long time.

The stakes are fucking high tonight.

I step up to him and tap his shoulder. You okay?

He manages a tight smile, pushing his hair back from his face. "Yeah," he mutters. "You?"

I nod. We're going to win.

His smile loosens up a little. "You think so?"

I tap my chest. I feel it.

He stares at me for a second, then finishes adjusting his armor, nodding. "I feel it too, brother."

He claps me on the shoulder on his way past me as the buzzer sounds.

We skate out.