Chapter 30 #2
Mason’s grin widens, eyes flicking between me and Cole as we battle along the boards.
He knows exactly what he is doing. We have played against each other for years, even before the Reapers, and he has always loved pushing buttons.
“Aw, cute. You know Viktor used to let me buy him drinks after rough games back in the day? Real friendly. Told me all kinds of things about how he likes it when someone can actually match him physically. You think you can keep up with that, kid?”
Cole’s eyes flash with pure jealousy. He glares at Mason, then shoots a hard look my way like I personally betrayed him. “Bullshit. Viktor wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”
Elias skates in fast, trying to reel him back. “Cole! Focus on the puck, not the mouthy asshole! Save it for after the whistle!”
I grab Cole’s jersey lightly, pulling him back from another reckless hit. “Soroka. Breathe. He is baiting you.”
But Cole is too far gone. The next time Mason gets near him, Cole chirps even harder. “Keep dreaming, Richter. Viktor’s mine. You had your chance and clearly couldn’t handle it if he never mentioned you once.”
Mason laughs loud and delighted, loving every second. “Oh he mentioned me plenty. Ask him about that road trip in juniors. Real memorable nights. Guy’s got stamina, I’ll give him that.”
Cole’s glare at me is nuclear now. Yeah… we are definitely fighting after the game.
Elias and I keep trying to pull him back into position, but the damage is done. Cole is playing angry, fast, and a little reckless, and the Wolves are starting to notice.
The period ends and Cole storms off the ice like the arena personally offended him.
He doesn’t wait for anyone, skates straight down the tunnel, shoulders tight, head down.
I glare at Mason as we skate off. He just grins back at me, all innocent and shit-eating, like he didn’t just spend the last ten minutes poking the bear for fun.
We head to our respective locker rooms without another word.
The door to our locker room slams shut hard enough to rattle the walls the second Cole gets inside. I step in right behind him, the rest of the team filing in with raised eyebrows and barely-contained amusement. Cole spins on me immediately, his voice loud enough for the entire room to hear.
“You fucked him???” he yells, right there in the middle of the team.
Everyone freezes. Sticks stop moving. Tape stops ripping. Even Damian looks up from his clipboard.
“No,” I say calmly as I pull off my helmet and set it in my stall.
“Bullshit!” Cole huffs, stepping closer, still in full gear, cheeks flushed with anger and leftover game adrenaline. “He knew things. He said— road trips, stamina, all that shit. You let him buy you drinks? You told him stuff? What the fuck, Vik!”
The locker room is dead silent except for Shane’s poorly muffled snort from the corner. Elias is biting his lip so hard he might draw blood, clearly trying not to laugh. Mats looks like Christmas came early.
I step closer to Cole, lowering my voice just a fraction while still letting the team hear. “Mason was baiting you. We played against each other for years before the Reapers. He knows how to push buttons. I never touched him. Never wanted to.”
Cole opens his mouth to argue again, still fuming, eyes narrowed like he is not quite ready to believe me yet.
The next two periods are pure spite-fueled chaos from Cole.
He scores twice — once on a beautiful breakaway where he steals the puck like it personally owed him money, and once on a wicked wrister after slamming into Mason so hard the big defenseman actually stumbles.
He throws hits on Mason more times than I can count, aggressive and reckless and beautiful in his anger.
Mason is having the absolute time of his life, grinning through every collision like this is the best entertainment he has had all season.
We win 4-3.
The locker room is loud with celebration afterward, but Cole is still simmering. He insists on showering three stalls away from me, back turned, shoulders tense. I let him have the space. For now.
When we head out to the parking lot, he stomps straight to my car and waits by the passenger side with his arms crossed, still in his post-game suit, glaring daggers at the hood. I walk up slowly, keys in hand, and we stand there glaring at each other over the car like it is a battlefield.
“Unlock the car…” Cole huffs.
“Not until you lose the attitude,” I say, watching him.
“In your dreams,” Cole growls, eyes flashing with that same jealous fire from the game.
I walk around the car slowly, keys still in my hand, eyes locked on Cole the entire time.
He watches me approach, chin lifted in defiance, but I see the way his breath catches, the way his body shifts like it already knows what is coming.
Before he can spit another angry word I crowd him against the side of the car, one hand sliding to the back of his neck, the other bracing on the roof beside his head, caging him in.
Then I kiss him. The kind of kiss that says mine in every language I know. Cole makes a surprised sound against my mouth that quickly melts into something needier. His hands fist in my coat, pulling me closer even as he tries to stay mad.
I break the kiss just enough to speak against his lips. “Tell me.”
Cole’s breath is shaky. “You— fuck— he said you let him buy you drinks, that you told him shit about how you like it when someone can match you physically, that you had memorable nights—”
I kiss him again, slower this time, my tongue sliding against his, one thigh pressing between his legs just enough to make him whimper. When I pull back he is panting.
“Never touched him,” I murmur, lips brushing his ear. “Never wanted to. You are the only one I let touch me. The only one I want under me, begging, falling apart on my cock. Mason was just trying to get in your head. And it worked.”
Cole makes a frustrated sound, half-moan, half-growl, his hips twitching against my thigh. “He knew things… said you had stamina… that you—”
I nip at his jaw, then soothe it with my tongue, hand sliding down to grip his hip hard.
“I am going to take you home and remind you exactly who you belong to. Going to strip you slow, put that pretty tongue piercing back in, and fuck you until the only name you remember is mine. Until you are shaking and crying and so full of me you cannot even think about anyone else. Understand?”
Cole’s head falls back against the car with a soft thud, a broken moan slipping out as I grind against him once teasingly. His hands tighten in my coat, words dissolving into needy little sounds. “Vik… fuck… yes—”