AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We storm the ice for warmups and the crowd’s insane. The energy in the packed barn is palpable, stoking our drive. We circle with purpose, passing hard and testing our edges. This is our fuckin' night.
The puck drops, and the battle begins.
Stormbridge comes out guns blazing. They set a vicious tempo from the first faceoff, bodies crashing and sticks flashing. We give as good as we get, our hits just as punishing. There’s no easy ice tonight.
I feel Thompson's beady little eyes tracking me whenever we're on the ice together. Sizing me up, looking for a weak spot to exploit. The feeling's mutual, Dickface. I stare him down on my next shift, gaze promising retribution for any dirty hits on my teammates.
Sure as fuck, five minutes in, Thompson rams Riot hard into the boards away from the play. I'm moving before I realize it, ready to drop gloves and ruin this fucker’s face. But Deck gets between us, urging me back.
"Not yet, Lancaster. Keep your cool," he warns under his breath. Cursing internally, I back off. But inside, I'm seething.
The first period continues heavy and contested. Both teams are dishing out bone-rattling hits, chasing down every loose puck. My shoulders ache from the abuse, breath sawing in my lungs. But our score is even at 2-2 heading into the break.
In the locker room, Coach reads us the riot act. "Too many damn penalties, boys," he snaps. "Stop retaliating and play your game. You're better than these Stormbridge pricks."
Around me, guys nod, faces screwed up in determination. Halftime pep talks from Riot, Deck and the other vets help sharpen our focus for the next period.
I'm re-lacing my skates when Riot drops beside me, brows drawn in concentration as he re-tapes his stick.
"Thanks for keeping cool earlier," he says quietly, meeting my eyes. "Thompson was trying to bait you into a penalty."
I snort. "He's been targeting you all period. If that asshole tries it again, he's gonna find out what my fist tastes like."
Riot's lips quirk. "My knight in shining armor." The teasing tone doesn't match the heat in his eyes that makes my pulse stutter. I realize how close we're sitting, knees almost touching.
Yeah, I’m a little bit obsessed with my teammate since that kiss. Okay, more than a little.
If I’m being honest… I’ve been obsessed with him for years.
"Someone's gotta have your back out there," I mutter gruffly, dropping my gaze as warmth crawls up my neck.
The noise and chatter of the locker room fades around us. Riot's eyes stay intent on my face, searching. The memory of our scorching kiss crackles between us.
Slowly, he reaches out and grasps my hand, squeezing once. My breath catches at the contact, that simple touch lighting me up. His thumb brushes over my knuckles and I nearly groan.
"Two minutes, boys!"
We spring apart as Coach's warning penetrates the haze. Riot holds my gaze a second longer, eyes unreadable, before he grabs his helmet and heads for the ice. I take a deep breath, willing my pulse to steady.
Focus, Lancaster. Eye on the prize tonight.
The second period is faster, both teams trading chances as play opens up. But Thompson keeps gunning for Riot, using his bigger frame to knock him off the puck repeatedly.
My agitation mounts witnessing it. As Riot gets checked hard into the boards once again, I make eye contact with Thompson across the ice. His visor-shielded eyes gleam with malice. He wants a reaction from me. My blood boils, but I leash my temper. Not yet.
Our competitive game of cat and mouse continues, but the toll of Thompson's targeted hits is showing on Riot. He's a split-second slower to loose pucks, shoulders hunched against the next impact.
That's it. Thompson wants my attention? He fucking has it.
When he shoves Riot face-first into the boards after the whistle right in front of me, I snap.
My gloves and stick hit the ice as I beeline for Thompson. He turns just as I plow into him, my pent-up fury unleashed. We grapple viciously, trading punches as we crash to the ice.
My helmet goes flying as I wrench his jersey over his head to land furious rights to his ribs. Through the red haze, I'm dimly aware of both teams converging on us, but my sole focus narrows to making this fucker pay.
Suddenly, strong hands are dragging me off Thompson's bloodied face.
"Enough!" Riot's sharp voice cuts through my raging adrenaline. I strain against his hold on me as referees restrain a cursing Thompson.
