10. CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER TEN
PEM
Coach stares at me like I’ve grown a second head as I whisper plays to my teammates—plays that are making his jaw drop.
“Cromlech!”
I skate over to Puck, whose face is a mix between irritated and intrigued. He crosses his arms and just glares at me.
“Yeah, Coach?”
“When did you become a Napoleon on the ice?”
Since a few hours ago when I played Iseol.
“Ugh, don’t compare me to that Fae fuck. Damned traitor pretended to be human!”
“Well, he certainly put the wee in Wee Folk, but don’t skate around the question.”
“ Skate around the question—I see what you did there. Your hockey puns never fail to amuse me.”
“Listen, tosspot, I’m thirteen seconds from carving a hole in this ice and seeing if you drown or freeze to death first.”
“Wow, you are even more mercurial than normal. Everything ok with Skye?”
“My wife’s fine. Now answer the bloody question!”
“I…learned a few things from my ma—friend.”
Puck groans. “Were you about to say ‘mate’? Of all the shite timing, you pick now to find your mate?”
“Hey, I’m playing better than the other day! I got focused.”
“You did,” the Puca acknowledges. “And why does your mate—I mean ‘friend’—know anything about hockey?”
“She teaches recreationally.”
“I see…Pembroke—” Oh, bollocks, my first name. “—you’re certain she isn’t using you?”
“What? No! Absolutely not. Trust me, Puck. She doesn’t even know who I am in terms of hockey.”
Coach hangs his head. “You’re lying to the woman you claim is your mate?”
I wince. “When you put it that way…It wasn’t intentional. To her, I’m just Pem. I never get to just be me. I’m always Cromlech the Center, ya know? There are no expectations when I’m with her.”
“Well, maybe tell her? That way it doesn’t bash her over the head later in case you two are in public and you get mobbed by cameras and other women.”
The visual makes me grimace because it does happen. My introverted girl would probably find a way to slapshot everyone in the shins and run away.
I chuckle at the thought, and Coach shakes his head like I’m a lost cause. Maybe I am considering how I’m ready to ask Iseol to be mine.
“And does your friend know you’re using her plays?”
“Er, no, I guess I didn’t think to ask.”
Guilt swamps me at the realization, and Coach claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t sweat it—just ask her after you tell her who you are. Whoever she is, she’s got some wicked moves. Maybe I should see if she wants to be a Goodfellow.”
I snort. Iseol would no sooner be thrust into the public eye than I would jump into a vat of boiling oil.
But Puck is right—I need to tell the Gumiho who I am and ask her if I can use her plays…among other things.
Like how I want her to be my mate.
The thought knots my stomach because it feels so right, but how do I convince Iseol—a very reclusive monster—that we’re meant to be?
When we’ve only known one another for a week.
Groaning, I skate a lazy circle around Coach as I try to organize my thoughts. In answer, he yanks the collar of my jersey, jerking me back.
He arches a brow, and I sigh. “I’ll tell her tomorrow when I see her—but don’t expect to meet her anytime soon. She’s pretty reserved.”
Puck snorts. “Sounds like she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Makes me wonder what someone so grounded is doing with you.”
“Hey!”
“Aw, quit yer crying. You know I’m teasing. But in all seriousness, if this woman is your mate, always be honest with her. Trust is like ice—it’s only strong until it’s chipped.”
“You’ve never lied to Skye?”
“Once. Eons ago. She hasn’t let me forget once.”
We both wince.
“In my defense, I’m not lying on purpose. It’s more I just haven’t told her because we’ve been busy doing…other things.”
The other Puca holds up a hand. “I don’t wanna know. But if you muck this up, Cromlech, you’ll lose her faster than a puck on a breakaway.”
“I know.”
I know—and I can’t let it happen.
Ever.
Coach slaps my shoulder again, hard enough to rattle my teeth. “Great. Whatever’s making you act like a bloody play prodigy, keep it going—with your mate’s permission. Just handle your business off the ice, ya hear?”
“Yes, sir,” I nod with a salute.
Puck swipes at me but I’m already heading off the ice. As I pass the Gallagher twins, one of them calls after me.
“Oi, Cromlech! Who lit a fire under your ass?”
“I’m going to see my sister.”
Coach’s advice is sound, but a woman’s tends to be better.
Instantly, the two start whistling, as do some of my other teammates, and I whirl around, my twig at the ready to bash their skulls in.
“Knock it off, you lot!”
“Make us!” challenges the tendy.
Twisting toward my mouthy friend, I lift my stick with every intention of making him eat his words until Coach shouts out.
“No fighting on the ice!”
The rest of the team collectively groans while I roll my eyes. “Are you kidding me right now? This is hockey . Three-fourths of the game is literally fighting on the ice!”
Puck narrows his eyes. “Not at practice.”
“They’re talking about my sister!”
The other Gallagher twin lets out a wolf howl, and our coach looks to the sky as if he’s praying for patience.
“Let them talk, Cromlech. I’ve never met anyone more able to take care of themselves than your sister. And the rest of you—I’ll tell Ramani myself that you’re giving Cromlech a hard time, and she’ll team up with Skye to make you lot miserable!”
Everyone goes silent.
One formidable woman is threat enough, but facing two is like trying to win a shootout with a blindfold on.
Impossible.
“You’re back.”
My sister smirks at me to soften her less-than-enthusiastic greeting.
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m not—and neither are the Huldufólk. They’ve set up another meal for you in the dining room.”
A small chuckle rumbles past my lips. “You all know me so well.”
“Mhmm. Just like I know something is wrong.”
“Not wrong…”
“Was that supposed to be reassuring—the way you trailed off? It wasn’t. In case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t, you little brat.”
Ramani shakes her head. “You know Maan taught me how to poison someone while they think they’re eating the most delicious meal they’ve ever tasted, right?”
“Which is the only reason I’m going to eat at all—because you didn’t make it. The Huldukona did.”
She sighs. “You’re in fine form tonight. Come on. You’ll be better after your belly is full.”
I don’t disagree and let Ramani lead me back to the same dining room as before. Tonight’s spread is a soup instead of stew with some crusty bread and cheese.
When I’ve eaten everything in sight, including the entire loaf of bread that magically appeared after I ate the first slice, I sit back and pat my stomach.
“That was amazing. The Huldufólk are exceptional cooks.”
“And hosts,” Ramani adds, and I nod.
“That, too. If I don’t see anyone tonight, please tell them ‘thank you’ for me.”
“Of course. Now, tell me what’s going on, Pem.”
“I think Iseol is my mate—I mean, I want her to be my mate.”
“Does she know this?”
“…no?”
Ramani runs a hand over her face. “At least tell me you two talked!”
“We did! Sort of. I might’ve gotten distracted when we started playing hockey.”
“Hockey? Oh, so you know what she does for a living?”
I don’t even question how Ramani knows. The Sight clearly told her this long before I learned anything today.
“She did—and I swear we would’ve talked more, but her scent overwhelmed me. I think she might be in heat, but Iseol doesn’t like to talk about such things. It’s not done in her culture.”
“You’re on your suppressants, right?”
“Yes, but sometimes…it feels like I’m going into rut whenever I’m near her.”
Ramani’s eyes widen. “Interesting. Do you think it’s just a mental thing since you’ve physiologically decided that she’s your mate?”
I shrug because I have no idea. Fae pick mates, but they’re not the same as Satyr mates. The term is simply what monsters called their significant other, but it has different connotations.
In my case, as part Faun, a mate is someone physically compatible with me—who can take my knot and handle my ruts.
Although I don’t know much about Gumiho or Yuki-Onna, Iseol’s scent tells me that one of the two experiences a heat.
There’s a difference between feminine arousal and slick, as well as the specific ‘perfume’ a woman in heat produces.
“Can you tell me anything?”
“I genuinely haven’t seen anything, nor do I know much about Gumiho and Yuki-Onna. I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok. I tried doing some research, but nothing came up. Iseol said both cultures were very reserved, so I didn’t expect to find much about their reproductive cycles online.”
“We could ask the Huldufólk. They have a special catalog of all known monster species in their bókalán. It’s kind of like a library.
But I think you should talk to Iseol first as well as explain how you feel. I know you started, but it seems you both get caught up either skating, playing, or kissing.”
“We don’t kiss. It’s actually probably the most intimate thing a Gumiho can do from what I gather.”
“Oh. Well, maybe try that after talking some more. Keep testing the waters together . But as long as you both know who each are—”
“Excuse me, Ramani,” I hushed voice suddenly calls from the doorway.
A different Huldukona stands there, wringing her hands together.
“Is everything alright, Inga?”
“It’s my little one. He’s still sick from eating that human candy, but those herbs you used seemed to help so much. I know you’re visiting with your brother, and I’m sorry to intrude.”
My sister immediately jumps up from the table. “It’s ok. Children always come first.”
Inga looks at me, and I nod my agreement. “I hope he feels better soon.”
The Huldukona bows her head. “Thank you.”
Ramani hugs me before rushing from the room to follow Inga. “Come see me tomorrow and tell me how it goes with Iseol!”
I wave, a soft smile curling my lips. Ramani loves children, and I can’t wait to be their favorite uncle.
Before I met Iseol, I never really thought about being a father, but a vision of Iseol rounded with our baby fills my head, and my smile grows.
My sister and Puck are right.
It’s time to tell Iseol how I feel.