Chapter 18
Nikolai
The locker room pulsed with victory. Music thudded through the walls, towels snapped, cleats clattered against concrete, and the unmistakable scent of sweat and tape filled the air.
It was loud. Unapologetic. Alive. And I was standing right in the middle of it—still wired from the game, still buzzing from the adrenaline—but none of it really touched me.
Because all I could think about was her.
Mina. Up in the stands in my hoodie, eyes shining like she belonged there more than anyone else in the arena. I’d caught her staring during warm-ups, nerves written all over her face—and still, she stayed. Cheered. Watched me like I was something worth being proud of.
Asher elbowed me on his way to the showers, grinning like an idiot. “Reaper’s got a girl,” he sing-songed under his breath. “Hope she’s got life insurance.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re hilarious.”
“Seriously, though,” Weston called out, toweling off his hair. “That her in the hoodie? Cute. Weird choice, but hey, I guess everyone’s got a type.”
“Mine just has better taste than most,” I said flatly, but my lips betrayed me with a twitch of a smile.
Kellen cackled from across the room. “Someone write that down! Nikolai just complimented someone without sounding like he wanted to end them.”
“I’m evolving,” I muttered, brushing the blade of my skate with my towel to mask the heat crawling up the back of my neck.
The chirping continued around me, but I let it fade into the background.
My thoughts were still with Mina. The way she looked at me when I hit the boards.
The way her eyes tracked my every move. It was distracting—maybe even dangerous—but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
She made the noise fade. Made the ice feel different.
And I didn’t know how to handle that, not yet.
But what I did know, as I unwrapped the tape from my wrist and caught another glimpse of her through the glass doors down the hallway?
She wasn’t just a temporary distraction.
She was starting to feel like home.
I pushed through the locker room door, the music and shouting fading behind me like background noise to a world I was no longer part of. The hallway was dim and quiet, a thin layer of condensation clinging to the walls from the cold outside. But none of it mattered. I only had one focus.
And there she was.
Mina stood just outside the tunnel, tucked into my hoodie, hair a little windblown, her arms wrapped around herself like she didn’t know what to do with them. Her eyes scanned the space—anxious, hopeful, unsure—and when they landed on me, her whole face lit up.
Something in my chest pulled tight.
“Hey,” I said, cutting through the distance like it was nothing. A couple staff members tried to catch my attention—congrats, handshakes, the usual post-game noise—but I didn’t stop. I barely acknowledged them.
She mattered more.
I reached for her hand, curling my fingers around hers, and the second our skin touched, everything else fell away.
She was warm and real and looking at me like maybe—just maybe—she saw something good in all of this.
I didn’t wait for small talk. I just guided her toward the exit and straight to the car.
Once we were inside, the world quieted. The soft rumble of the engine, the way she curled into the seat, still buzzing from the game—it all hit me harder than any body check on the ice.
“So?” I asked, pretending I wasn’t holding my breath. “What’d you think?”
She practically lit up the cabin. “Are you kidding me? That was insane! You were insane!” Her hands moved animatedly as she talked, eyes bright. “When you leveled that guy in the second period, I thought the entire row behind me was gonna lose it!”
A laugh rumbled in my chest—quiet, but real. “That so?”
“You’re a menace out there, Nik. In the best way.” Her voice softened at the end, eyes catching mine. “I couldn’t stop watching you.”
That last sentence landed somewhere deep. Unexpected. Dangerous.
I looked at her for a beat longer, then turned my attention to the road ahead. “Then you better get used to it,” I said, voice low, almost a promise. “Because you’re coming to every game now.”
I pulled into the driveway, the engine fading into silence while the high of the game still buzzed through my bloodstream. But it wasn’t the win or the goal I kept replaying—it was her. Mina, beside me in the passenger seat, curled up in my hoodie like she’d been born to wear it.
She stepped out first; the sleeves swallowing her hands as she moved up the walk with that familiar bounce in her step. She looked back once, like she wasn’t sure if I’d follow. I did—of course I did. I always would.
The house felt different now. Lived-in. Warmer. Not because anything had changed… except her. Except me.
She dropped her bag inside the door and turned to face me. That smile—half sweet, half wicked—tugged at something in my chest. Then I saw it. The faint, purpling mark at the base of her neck. My mark. A wave of possessiveness rose before I could stop it, something low and heated twisting in my gut.
I stepped in close, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You wore my hoodie.”
She grinned, tugging on the hem of my hoodie. “Maybe I just like how cozy it is.”
“Cozy?” I echoed, a dry laugh slipping out. She had no idea what she did to me in that hoodie. Or maybe she did—and that was the problem.
She leaned against the wall like she had all the power, arching an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
The word hit harder than it should have. I narrowed my eyes. “You think you can just walk around with that”—I nodded to the hickey—“and not expect anyone to notice?”
Her smile flickered, then returned sharper. “Maybe I like how it feels.”
My jaw tensed. “Or maybe you like pushing buttons.”
“Only yours.” She bit her lip like she knew exactly what she was doing—and yeah, she did. It was infuriating.
I took another step, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her. Her breath caught.
“Is it so wrong to want attention?” she asked, teasing but quieter this time.
“No,” I said, voice low. “But don’t act surprised when you get all of mine.”
And I meant it. Every breath, every glance, every damn second—she had it all. Her teasing grin faltered just enough to make my pulse kick. Then it shifted—softened—into something quieter, more honest. “Is that a threat or a promise?” she asked, voice light but edged with something real.
“That depends,” I murmured, my voice dropping as I stepped in close, “on how you want to take it.”
I should’ve backed off. I knew how dangerous it was—how close we were to crossing a line we couldn’t uncross.
But I didn’t move. I reached up instead, letting my thumb graze the mark on her neck.
The same one I’d left there. This time, my touch was gentler, reverent.
A quiet acknowledgment of what was already brewing between us.
She sucked in a sharp breath, and the sound hit me low and deep. Heat flared in my chest, spiraling down my spine. Every part of me was aware of her—all of her.
Then she asked it, her voice barely above a whisper: “What do you want from me?”
That sliver of vulnerability in her tone undid something in me. All the tension, all the restraint—it cracked wide open. I met her eyes, didn’t look away. Didn’t let her.
“I want you here,” I said, steady and sure. “All of you.”
The room went still. The air thick with things unsaid, with possibility. She didn’t move. Neither did I. We just stood there, suspended between who we were and whatever the hell we were becoming. And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like running.
The air crackled between us, thick with unspoken words and tension. I felt every heartbeat pulse through the silence as her gaze flickered from my eyes to my lips. And then she leaned in, just a fraction, but it was enough.
I closed the distance.
Her mouth met mine softly at first, like we were both testing the waters. But then something inside me snapped—some instinct that told me to dive deeper, to explore. I pulled her closer, my hands framing her face, fingers tangling in her hair as our kiss deepened.
Mina tasted like warmth and sweetness, a rush of everything that made sense and nothing that did all at once. She responded with a breathless sigh that sent a jolt through me. I hadn’t anticipated how it would feel—this raw connection—that everything else in the world faded into a dull hum.
The kiss stretched on, timeless. It felt electric, sparking all those dark corners of myself I usually kept locked away. I let myself drown in it; every ounce of doubt evaporated as she melted against me, pressing closer like she wanted to become part of me.
My heart thundered in my chest, wild and reckless as if it had come alive for the first time in years.
It was dangerous territory we were treading; the thrill of kissing her felt like skating on thin ice—beautiful but risky.
I could easily lose myself in this moment and forget the bet hanging over our heads like an executioner’s axe.
But I didn’t care about consequences right then.
Her fingers slipped beneath my shirt, tracing the contours of my chest—a featherlight touch that sent a shiver racing down my spine. I groaned softly into her mouth, and she responded with a quiet hum that ignited something primal within me.
I couldn’t help myself. The moment I felt her warmth against me, every thought melted away. I lifted her effortlessly, my hands slipping beneath her thighs as I pulled her closer. Her breath hitched, and that sound fueled the fire burning deep in my chest.
With a gentle push, I backed into the bedroom, my lips never leaving hers. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing off the rest of the world. My heart raced; the air thickened with something electric and dangerous.