Pucked By The Puca (Monstrous Meet Cutes)

9. CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

ISEOL

Ice arcs from Kening’s feet—which he can naturally shape into skates—and sprays me in the face. I startle as the frozen particles cling to my hair and eyelashes.

“Sorry, Coach,” the K?ldrisi rumbles from his imposing height.

Except, the man doesn’t look repentant at all.

If anything, he seems pleased, and I narrow my eyes. Over the past week, Kening and I have grown close—closer than I let most people in.

It’s kind of refreshing to have someone to talk to, to bounce ideas off of, and to simply just hang out with.

Back home, I really just interact with people through my job. And while it’s a relaxed environment, I wouldn’t call any of my students my ‘friends’.

But Kening didn’t give me a chance to distance myself. He was determined to push past the walls I’d built over the years.

He weaseled his way into my personal life somehow, and now the obnoxious man thinks we’re best friends.

And I secretly love it.

“Have something to say?”

“Not sure I know what you mean, Coach.”

I snort. This man is so full of bull, and he knows it. I tap my skate against the slippery surface of the lake where we’re practicing.

Kening smirks, dashing away to make a play we’ve been working on. After a few times, he comes back, dousing me in ice once more.

“Hey! That’s it!”

Flicking my tails, I shift into a mirror image of the monster before me. The height difference unbalances me for a moment, but I adjust quickly.

The K?ldrisi grins, baring the sharp points of his teeth. They look like the perfect white icicles my mother makes after a blizzard.

“Oi! Coach wants to play!”

The rest of the team circles up around us, cheering when they see the form I’ve taken as Kening gets me a stick.

I rarely play with the Ice Giants, preferring the sidelines where I call out new moves to practice. But everyone knows I love being on the ice.

And after my victory against Pem this morning, the thrill of success still thrums in my veins, urging me on.

Kening and I go toe-to-toe. Like Pem, he’s exceptionally talented, but not much of a defenseman. Teaching and coaching all the positions gives me an edge.

As does my size.

Although my Gumiho and Yuki-Onna form feels like home, there’s something intoxicating about this towering strength.

My feet, now sleek blades of ice, cut across the frozen surface with effortless precision, leaving shimmering trails in my wake.

Each stride sends a ripple through the lake, the raw power of this form making the ice hum beneath me.

With my massive hands, I grip my stick and swing. The puck rockets forward like it’s destined to tear through the net, and I smirk.

This body—this power—it’s unyielding, primal, and thrilling.

What would Pem think if he saw me like this?

In no time, I score twice, and the rest of the Ice Giants roar, stomping the ice until I fear it’ll shatter underneath the ruckus.

Twirling, I transform back to normal, the green skirts of my hanbok gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as I wait for everyone to calm down.

Kening skates over, shaking his head, a big grin stretching his lips. “You never fail to amaze me. Since you won, does this mean you’re not going to tell me what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing’s on my mind.”

The K?ldrisi raises a brow. “You’re brooding.”

“I’m a Gumiho—we’re always brooding.”

“Not like today. I’m asking, as your friend. You’re more distant than usual.”

I wince. If he’s noticed, others have as well, and that’s terribly rude and unprofessional of me. Kening snorts as if he can read my thoughts.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Didn’t say there was.” He’s got me there. “I’m not going to pry—and no one is complaining, so get it out of your head that you’ve let the team down in some way. Just know that I’m here if you need to talk.”

Some of my worry unclenches in my stomach at this. I’ve never met anyone so accepting as Kening, and I can see why my cousin loves this team so much.

They’re all so supportive, working together for one another like one big, diverse family. Honestly, these guys are my friendship goals when I get back to Korea.

“Thanks, Kening. I appreciate it—and you—more than you can ever know.”

The K?ldrisi leans down to give me a hug. It’s something else I’ve learned to like, these spontaneous squeezes of affection.

“And we appreciate you. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. We’re happy to share it.”

Behind him, the rest of the team nods. Although they’re giving us space, they haven’t dispersed and can hear our conversation.

“Thanks, guys,” I murmur, pushing past the lump in my throat. “Ok, no more mush—dinner time!”

Again, the world trembles as everyone whoops with joy. Nothing makes this team happier than either playing hockey or eating.

After I finish my meal, I call home to check on my cousins and their new baby. To my relief, everyone is healthy and well.

After my cousin grills me about his team—and I about the baby and his wife—he gives the phone to my mother.

She’s visiting but will likely be gone by the time I return to Korea. I’m sad that I’ll miss her, but decide to go to Japan to see her.

Coming to Iceland reminds me of how much I love to travel and immerse myself in different cultures, despite my introverted ways.

Even though I’m part Yuki-Onna, I associate more with my Gumiho side than my Japanese since I was raised and live in Korea.

But visiting my mother’s homeland is always a treat as I learn so many new things about myself and my heritage.

“Daughter, are you listening?”

“Sorry, my mind wandered.”

“I spoke to another Yuki-Onna today. She’s mated to a Haetae, and they have a son and a daughter.

Their son looks like his father and exhibits all of his traits, but their daughter is similar to you. She retains the form of a woman, but with a lion’s tail and a horn out her forehead.”

“That’s interesting. I’m sure you were delighted to meet another Yuki-Onna mated outside of their country and culture.”

“Indeed. As it were, we touched on the topic of mating cycles.”

I cough, surprised that my mother is bringing up such an intimate topic. “Erm, ok.”

“This is important, I think. Their daughter is older than you and never experienced a Haetae heat. Her Yuki-Onna side naturally curbed them, so the young woman never thought to take suppressants.

But the other woman’s daughter became involved with a young man, not a Haetae, but a monster who goes into rut.

Their, erm, intimacy, triggered the daughter’s heat, and she became pregnant. Now, I know you’re not seeing anyone, but your Gumiho side has mating cycles.

Gathering what I can guess from the woman’s daughter, you’ve not experienced a heat because of coldness from your Yuki-Onna genes.

But if you were to find someone to be with who can go into rut, it might activate your heat. Just a precautionary word, is all.

I know this topic isn’t discussed much, but you and I have always been too practical with one another to tiptoe around the topic.”

My mind blanks as the warmth inside of me flickers with recognition. I try to speak, but the words seem stuck in my throat. Finally, I manage to croak out a response.

“O-oh, um, thank you. For telling me. I will…keep it in mind.”

If my mother finds anything off in my voice, she doesn’t let on. She chats idly about her visit before letting me.

“I love you, dear daughter, and will speak with you soon. Now let me find your father. He wishes to talk with you, too.”

Even though I’m in a daze, I try not to groan as he comes on the line, already knowing exactly what he’s going to talk to me about.

“Ttal, I hope you are guarding your yeowoo guseul.”

“Of course, abeoji,” I reply dutifully, even though it’s a lie.

I haven’t been guarding it.

In fact, I’ve been courting disaster ever since a certain Puca made me see stars…

He grunts. “Good, good. You never know who might be trying to get it.”

“Most people here don’t know anything about Gumiho.”

I can almost hear the steam coming out of my father’s ears as he starts a rant about Westerners not appreciating our vast and complex traditions.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing because I have bigger things to worry about than someone stealing my fox marble.

Like someone stealing my heart.

“Abeoji, I have to go. Please give everyone my love,” I interrupt as respectfully as possible.

Thankfully, my father doesn’t lecture me. “I will tell everyone. Be sure to call us after the first game. Good-bye, ttal.”

After I hang up, I lie back on my bed, thinking about everything my mother said, a knot of apprehension growing inside of me.

Long ago, when I reached maturity, my female Gumiho cousins envied my apparent lack of heat cycles, nor my need to take suppressants.

It’s not that I’ve taken my mixed Gumiho and Yuki-Onna blood for granted—as I’m sure it’s a big factor as to why I survived infancy—but I haven’t really given my reproductive cycle much thought.

And since I’ve never been interested in someone at such an intimate level, it’s simply never occurred to me as something to worry about.

That is, until now.

Pem stirs something fiery and primal inside of me. I’m doing things I never even considered before I met him.

Whenever I’m near him, I ache. Whenever I’m not near him, I ache even more. And the constant fire that now rages within must mean something .

The only way to even know if his kind experiences something similar to a Gumiho heat/rut cycle is to ask—and talking about it with my mother was enough for me.

Besides, Pem and I haven’t done anything to trigger an actual heat. At least, I don’t think so. Petting my tails and making me come shouldn’t be a catalyst.

Right?

Or is this just another thing I’m dead wrong about?