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Our mouths met for a few thrilling seconds. The tips of our tongues teasing, one of his fangs pressed into my lower lip, as Aaron rubbed my back firmly, caringly in circles. I wasn’t getting quite as much attention as the tiger lady, but I certainly couldn’t complain.
I drew away, turning to kiss Aaron quickly, rubbing up and down the thick, soft hair of his forearms, bare in his own Sentinels T-shirt. His thick chest muscles quickly began giving off heat, expanding under the thin cotton too. I had to stop. This was lovely, but—
“Boo! Abomination! Offspring of sinners!”
I jolted upright, thinking the hate-filled jeers were aimed at me and my public kissing. I quickly realized that the commotion was happening on the field.
A group of fans—they weren’t wearing colors from either team so maybe not—had spilled onto the field, carrying placards that said things like ‘Impurity is Sin’ and ‘The Second Death Awaits Interbreeders.’ They were surrounding one of the Stallions’ players, harassing him, their faces contorted, spitting hatred. The other players from both teams, the coaches and sideline staff, and of course stadium security, were dragging and shoving the people, who actually looked to be protestors not genuine fans, barging them away from the player, who was clutching his helmet underarm, a look of bewilderment on his face. It was a real mess. Punches started getting thrown, causing deep grumbles and shouts of disapproval to rise up from the crowd.
I sat forward, shocked, the wonderful atmosphere had suddenly been tainted by whatever was going on in front of me. “What on earth? What are they doing?”
Osric’s voice came from behind, forceful, brimming with anger. “Flashing their arsehole credentials.”
I turned to see him standing, glaring, his feet fidgety, as if he wanted to charge down the concrete steps and join in the brawl. Aaron spoke to him, his words friendly, but firm. “Security has this, buddy. Take it easy, yeah? This isn’t our fight. Not this time.”
What did he mean this time? “Who are these people? Why are they doing this?” I asked out loud, for any of the three guys to answer.
Osric did, speaking through gritted teeth, his handsome face firmly masked in a scowl. “The Temple of the Pure Breed. They’re protesting that player being on the team.”
“Why?”
“Because, Cecilia, he’s half like you and half elemental. He’s a mixed breed. And they consider him unfit to play. Unfit to exist, in fact.” He opened his right hand and stretched his palm wide, staring into it. “I am exceedingly tempted to go down there, slice their signs into pieces and shove them up their arses.”
His words worried me, but how could he slice anyone with just his hand? I prayed Fae princes didn’t think carrying knives in their pockets was normal.
Aaron stood quickly, turning to clutch Osric’s shoulders with both hands, staring down into his eyes, his tone hard as granite. “Don’t even think about it. Security have got this.” He pointed towards the commotion, where the troublemakers were rapidly being corralled towards an exit, by a small army of bulky guys in black. “See? They’re already leaving. Sit down, old friend. Please.”
Osric took a deep breath and exhaled hard. “Alright, old chap.” He sat, his scowl softening and shoulders relaxing. “And I’m sorry, you know. You know how I feel about them.”
Aaron breathed what seemed like a sigh of relief. “I do, of course, and it’s fine. Good man. You want a cold beer?”
Osric nodded, regaining his regular suave composure. “Thanks, just one though. Otherwise, I’ll be back and forth to the bloody toilet all evening.”
Chuckling into my ear, Xander spoke in an especially low voice, the rumble of the crowd masking his words from the nearby Osric as he said, “I’m slightly disappointed. I’ve heard the prince is quite a fighter. It would have been nice to see—”
“No, it wouldn’t have,” I whispered back. It was my turn to scowl. I wasn’t angry, but Xander needed to have a bit more empathy for Osric. There was clearly something deeply personal there, between Osric and those religious maniacs. Whatever it was, I would try to talk to him about it later. If I could help, I would, especially after all he’d done for me.
The drama disappeared along with the temple people, and the fun atmosphere steadily built up again. The teams’ preparations had been delayed by the disturbance, and they were going through them now. As usual, Jax looked super hunky and ready to do some amazing feats on the field. His classic, V-shaped torso, was even more exaggerated by the bulky shoulder pads pressing tightly under his uniform. He was the wolf of every girl’s dreams. But they couldn’t have him.
Oh, speaking of girls that couldn’t have him, my attention was drawn to the lead cheerleader. There was Mandy, looking her perfectly groomed, dolly girl self. She didn’t seem to be trying her charms on Jax this time. Maybe she was finally starting to get things into her thick skull? But then again, it was very thick…
Clutching his helmet, Jax walked away from his teammates, towards the edge of the bleachers, on the Sentinels’ side. He was talking to four guys. The oldest and biggest looking one was clutching Jax round the back of his head, wagging his finger, like a lecture was going on. Jax was responding with arm flails, pacing back and forth with hands on hips. It looked tense.
Xander didn’t whisper this time. “Jax’s dad. The three cronies behind him are his capos. Oh, I mean business assistants.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve had dealings with all of them. Unfortunately.” Xander stood. “Look, you wouldn’t be mad if I went off for a short while, would you? I promise I’ll be back soon.”
“Sure. Be back soon though,” I said, smiling but also still concerned at what was happening with Jax.
Xander disappeared.
I kept watching as Jax’s unhappy family discussion continued. It didn’t look like it was going to end, even though the other players were checking their pads, their laces, starting to put helmets on.
And then, appearing from the top entrance of the section where Jax’s dad was, weaving down the steps like a black mamba in sunglasses, was Xander. One arm cradling the biggest popcorn bucket I’d ever seen, the other a six pack of beer, he slipped along the row and sidled into the seats belonging to Jax’s dad and his cronies. The ones they should have been sitting in, but had left empty, to go and get in Jax’s face beside the bleachers’ barrier.
Sprawling across two of the seats, his food and drink heaped on the third and fourth one, he cracked open a beer and reclined. I could see him throwing his hands up in the air, motioning for Jax’s dad and his friends to move.
