Chapter 9
Leo
The world was vibrating.
Or maybe it was just me. My head was pounding in time with the bass that shook the floorboards of The Hive. My ribs were a dull, throbbing ache that spiked into sharp agony every time someone slapped me on the back to congratulate me.
"Hell of a game, Cap!"
"You killed him, Leo! Literally!"
"Shots! Shots! Shots!"
I was surrounded by a wall of humanity. Sweat, cheap beer, and the cloying, overheated scent of arousal filled the living room. It was a victory party, which meant the entire campus had descended on our house to worship at the altar of violence.
I hated it.
I stood near the kitchen island, holding a red solo cup filled with water that I was pretending was vodka. I needed to keep a clear head. The scout’s words were still echoing in my skull, a cold counterpoint to the music.
The NHL doesn't like liabilities.
I took a sip of water, my knuckles white on the cup. I scanned the room, ignoring the puck bunnies trying to catch my eye near the fridge. I was looking for only one thing.
Maya.
I hadn't seen her since I sent her away with Silas. I had told her to go home. I had told her to sleep.
But Silas had texted me twenty minutes ago: Package delivered. But she’s stubborn. She made me bring her to the party. Said she had unfinished business.
Stubborn girl.
I finally spotted her.
She was in the corner by the sliding glass door, talking to Jax.
She was still wearing my jersey. It looked even bigger on her now, like she was shrinking inside it.
She was hugging her arms around her waist, nodding politely as Jax gestured wildly with a beer bottle, probably recounting some save he made in the second period.
She looked tired. Shadows bruised the skin under her eyes. But she was smiling—a small, fragile thing that didn't reach her eyes.
A guy I didn't recognize—some frat pledge with too much gel in his hair—slid up next to her. He leaned in close, whispering something in her ear. He put a hand on her waist.
My jersey. His hand.
The water cup in my hand crushed with a loud crack, splashing water over my knuckles.
The Red Haze descended.
I didn't think. I moved. I cut through the crowd like a shark through a school of fish. People scrambled out of my way, sensing the change in air pressure.
I reached them in ten seconds.
I didn't say a word. I grabbed the pledge’s wrist—the one on her waist—and squeezed.
He yelped, spinning around. "Hey! What the—"
He saw my face. The color drained out of his cheeks faster than beer from a keg.
"Wrong jersey, pal," I growled, my voice low enough to rumble in his chest. "Walk away. Before I break the wrist."
He snatched his hand back, cradling it like it was burned. "Chill, Vance. I was just talking."
"Walk," I repeated.
He walked. Fast.
I turned to Maya.
She was looking up at me, her eyes wide. She wasn't scared. She looked... relieved.
"You're supposed to be sleeping," I said, my voice rough.
"I tried," she shouted over the music. "My ceiling was staring at me. And I knew you were hurting."
"I'm fine."
"Liar," she said. She reached out and touched my arm, right above the elbow. Her touch was a brand. "You're holding your breath every time you move. Your ribs are screaming."
"I'm managing."
"You're hiding," she corrected. "Let's go."
"Go where?"
"Upstairs," she said firmly. "Away from the noise. You need ice. And silence."
"I can't leave the party, Maya. I'm the Captain."
"You're the patient," she countered. She grabbed my hand—my large, scarred hand—in hers and tugged. "Come on, Leo. For once in your life, let someone else take the lead."
I looked at her hand in mine. I looked at the fierce set of her jaw.
I was exhausted. I was in pain. And I wanted nothing more than to be alone with her.
"Okay," I whispered.
I let her lead me through the crowd, past the beer pong table, past the passed-out defenseman on the sofa, and up the grand staircase into the shadows of the second floor.
My room—my Den—was at the end of the hall. It was the only room with a reinforced oak door and a keypad lock.
I punched in the code. The lock clicked.
We stepped inside, and the noise of the party instantly muffled to a dull throb beneath our feet.
I closed the door and locked it. The silence was heavy. It smelled of cedar, old books, and me.
Maya stood in the center of the room, looking around. It was sparse. A massive king-sized bed with grey sheets. A desk covered in textbooks and plays. A wall of windows overlooking the dark forest.
"Sit," she ordered, pointing to the bed.
"Bossy," I muttered, but I sat on the edge of the mattress. The change in posture made my ribs flare with sharp, hot pain. I hissed, squeezing my eyes shut.
"Shirt off," she said.
My eyes flew open. "Buy a guy a drink first."
"Leo," she warned, her hands on her hips. "I'm not playing. I need to see the damage."
I sighed. I reached for the hem of my dress shirt. My fingers fumbled with the buttons. My hands were shaking—adrenaline crash mixed with pain.
"Here," she said softly, stepping between my spread knees. "Let me."
She batted my hands away. Her fingers were cool and deft. She undid the buttons one by one, starting at the collar and working her way down.
She was so close. I could smell the vanilla shampoo in her hair. I could see the individual lashes framing her brown eyes. I could feel the heat radiating from her body.
She finished the buttons and pushed the shirt off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
She sucked in a breath.
I looked down.
My entire left side was a canvas of violence. A massive, purple-black bruise bloomed from my armpit to my hip, centered around the ribs where Number 55 had hit me. It looked angry. The skin was swollen and hot.
"Oh, Leo," she whispered, her voice trembling.
She reached out. Her fingertips hovered over the bruise, terrified to touch it.
"It looks worse than it feels," I lied. It felt like I had been kicked by a mule.
"Does it hurt to breathe?"
"Only when I inhale," I joked weakly.
She didn't smile. She turned and marched into my ensuite bathroom. I heard the sound of the freezer door opening (I kept ice packs in a mini-fridge in there for post-game recovery).
She came back with a gel pack wrapped in a towel.
"Lie back," she instructed.
I leaned back against the headboard, stretching my legs out. She sat on the edge of the bed beside me. She gently placed the ice pack against my side.
The cold was a shock, but it numbed the fire instantly. I let out a long groan of relief, my head falling back against the pillows.
"Better?" she asked softly.
"Much."
I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. She was still wearing my jersey. It was slipping off one shoulder, revealing the strap of her bra.
"Why did you come back?" I asked. "Really."
She traced the pattern on the quilt with her finger. "Because of what the scout said."
I stiffened. "Don't worry about him. He's just a suit."
"He hurt you," she said. "I saw your face, Leo. You looked... ashamed."
"I lost control," I admitted, staring at the ceiling. "I let the Wolf take the wheel. In the pros, you can't do that. You have to be a machine. If they think I'm a liability, they won't draft me. And if they don't draft me..."
"If they don't draft you, what?"
"Then I'm just a monster with a useless degree," I said bitterly. "My dad... he was a great player too. Until he wasn't. I'm following his roadmap, Maya. Turn by turn."
"You aren't him," she said fiercely.
She moved. She shifted on the bed until she was leaning over me, bracing her hand on the pillow next to my head. Her hair fell around us like a curtain, shielding us from the rest of the room.
"You stopped," she repeated. "You looked at me, and you stopped. You have an anchor, Leo. He didn't."
"You can't be my anchor, Maya," I whispered, looking into her eyes. " Anchors drown. I'll pull you down with me."
"Let me worry about my buoyancy," she said. "Right now, I'm worried about you."
She moved her hand from the pillow to my chest. She placed her palm directly over my heart.
"It's beating so fast," she murmured.
"It's because you're in my bed," I rasped. "Wearing my name."
Her eyes darkened. Her pupils expanded, swallowing the brown. The scent of her—vanilla and aroused honey—spiked, filling my nose.
"Do you want me to leave?" she asked. It was a challenge.
"No." The word was out before I could stop it. "God, no."
"Good."
She leaned down. She kissed the center of my chest, right over my sternum. Her lips were soft, warm.
I shuddered. My hands came up instinctively to grip her waist.
"Maya," I warned. "I'm on painkillers and adrenaline. My judgment is compromised."
"My judgment is perfect," she whispered against my skin.
She kissed her way up my chest. Over the collarbone. Up the side of my neck. She found the sensitive spot just below my ear—the spot where a wolf would mark a mate—and sucked gently.
A growl ripped out of my throat. It wasn't human.
My hips bucked off the mattress.
"Leo," she moaned, the vibration of her voice against my neck sending shockwaves through my nervous system.
I flipped us.
I ignored the scream of pain from my ribs. I rolled, pinning her to the mattress beneath me. I hovered over her, bracing my weight on my forearms to protect my side, but caging her completely.
She looked up at me, breathless, hair spread out like a halo on my grey pillows. Her lips were parted, swollen. Her chest was heaving under the jersey.
"Are you sure?" I demanded, searching her face. " Because once I start, Maya... I'm not going to stop. Not tonight."
"I don't want you to stop," she said. She reached up and wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me down. "Show me the monster, Leo. I'm not afraid."
That broke the last chain.
I crashed my mouth onto hers.
It was a devouring. I kissed her like I was starving, like she was the only oxygen in the room. I bit her lower lip, tasting iron, then soothed it with my tongue.
She tasted like victory.
My hands roamed over her body. I felt the curves through the thick jersey fabric, frustrated by the barrier.
"Take it off," I growled against her mouth.
She sat up as I pulled back. She grabbed the hem of the jersey and pulled it over her head. Her hair went static-wild for a second before falling back down.
She was wearing a simple black bra. Her skin was pale, creamy in the dim light. Her breasts rose and fell with her jagged breathing.
She tossed the jersey to the floor.
"Better?" she asked.
"Incredible," I breathed.
I reached out and traced the line of her collarbone. My hand looked massive against her delicate frame. Dark against light. Rough against smooth.
I unclasped her bra. It fell away.
I stared. I couldn't help it. She was perfect. Soft curves, pink nipples hardened by the cool air.
"Beautiful," I whispered reverently. "You are... magnificent."
She blushed, trying to cover herself with her arms.
"Don't," I ordered gently, pulling her wrists away and pinning them to the mattress above her head. "Let me look. I want to see everything."
I lowered my head. I took one nipple into my mouth.
She cried out, arching her back off the bed. "Leo!"
I swirled my tongue around the nub, teasing, before sucking hard. She tasted sweet. Addictive.
I moved to the other one, giving it equal attention, while my free hand slid down her stomach. I popped the button of her jeans. The sound of the zipper lowering was the loudest thing in the room.
I slid my hand inside.
She wasn't wearing panties.
I froze. I lifted my head, looking at her with wide eyes.
"Commando?" I asked, my voice cracking.
She bit her lip, her face bright red. "I... the dress lines. And then the leggings... I didn't think..."
"Fuck," I groaned. "You are trying to kill me."
I shoved the jeans down her hips. She kicked them off, leaving her completely bare to my gaze.
I sat back on my heels between her legs. I just looked at her. Spread out on my bed. Naked. Trusting.
The Wolf was howling in triumph. Mate. Mate. Mate.
" Leo?" she whispered, sensing my hesitation. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I rasped. "Everything. I just... I need a second. To make sure this is real."
I reached out and touched her inner thigh. Her skin was satin-soft. I moved my hand up, brushing the curls. She was wet. So wet.
"It's real," she gasped as I touched her.
"Yeah," I said, my voice thick. "It is."
I moved back up the bed, covering her body with mine. I kissed her deeply, tangling my tongue with hers, tasting her moans.
"I need to be inside you," I admitted against her mouth. "Now."
"Please," she begged. "Please, Leo."
I reached for the nightstand drawer. I fumbled for a condom. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the packet.
She took it from me. She tore it open with her teeth—a move so unexpectedly wild it made me groan. She rolled it onto me, her hands cool against my fever-hot skin.
"Ready?" she asked, looking up at me with those big, trust-filled eyes.
"Always," I said.
I positioned myself. I felt the heat of her entrance against me.
I pushed in. Slow. Just the head.
She was tight. So tight.
"You okay?" I asked, pausing.
"Yes," she hissed. "Just... big. Go slow."
I gritted my teeth. Going slow was torture. My body wanted to slam into her, to claim her with primal force. But I forced myself to inch forward.
Little by little. Stretching her. Filling her.
When I was fully seated, hilt deep, we both let out a shuddering breath.
It felt... like coming home. Like the missing piece of my soul had finally snapped into place.
"Maya," I whispered, burying my face in her neck. "Look at me."
She opened her eyes.
"You are mine," I said, the words guttural. "Tonight. Tomorrow. Always. You hear me?"
"I hear you," she said, tears glistening in her eyes. "I'm yours."
I began to move.
It wasn't fast. It wasn't rough. It was a worship.
I moved with a slow, grinding rhythm that hit every nerve ending. I watched her face as I loved her. I watched her eyes roll back. I watched her lips part in a silent scream.
"Leo," she chanted. "Leo, Leo, Leo."
It was the best song I had ever heard. Better than the roar of the crowd. Better than the buzzer.
When she came, she clamped down on me so hard I saw stars. I followed her over the edge seconds later, spilling myself into her with a roar that I muffled against her shoulder.
I collapsed onto her, careful of my weight.
We lay there in the silence, limbs tangled, sweat cooling on our skin.
The party downstairs was still raging, but it felt a million miles away.
I kissed her temple. She was already drifting off, exhausted.
"Sleep," I whispered.
"Don't leave," she mumbled.
"Never."
I pulled the duvet up over us, tucking her against my uninjured side.
As I listened to her breathing even out, I realized something.
I had broken every rule. I had claimed a human. I had put a target on her back.
But looking at her sleeping face, I knew I would burn the world down before I let anyone touch her.
The game was over. The war had just begun.