Chapter 1 #2
My father was a monster. An Unbound Alpha who had lost his mind to the bloodlust and ripped my mother's throat out in our kitchen when I was twelve. I had his eyes. I had his size. And every day, I fought the terrifying certainty that I had his madness, too.
I kept the beast on a leash made of discipline and violence. I exhausted him on the ice so he would sleep in the dorms.
But tonight, the leash was fraying.
I had been feeling it since warm-ups. An itch under my skin. A restless energy that made my bones ache. The air in the arena felt wrong—too charged, too sweet.
I came off the ice for intermission looking for a fight. I wanted to punch a wall. I wanted to break my stick over my knee.
Instead, I ran into her.
She was tiny. That was my first thought. Pathetically, dangerously small. A stiff wind would snap her in half. She was on her knees in front of me, scrabbling for papers, wearing a gray hoodie that looked like a tent.
But then I grabbed her wrist, and the world tilted on its axis.
The scent hit me like a sledgehammer to the temple.
Vanilla. Clean rain. And underneath it all, a deep, sticky sweetness like warm honey.
It bypassed the human part of my brain—the part that studied engineering and knew the rules of hockey—and went straight to the lizard brain. Straight to the Wolf.
Mine, the beast growled in the back of my mind. Claim. Take. Keep.
I felt my canines lengthen, pushing against my gums. My vision narrowed until the only thing in the hallway was the curve of her neck and the pulse fluttering frantically beneath her pale skin.
I wanted to bite her. I wanted to drag her into the equipment closet, rip those baggy clothes off, and see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled. I wanted to knot her until she couldn't walk, until she smelled like nothing but smoke and iron.
The thought terrified me.
I released her wrist as if she burned me. I stumbled back, my skates scraping harshly on the concrete.
"Get up," I snapped, my voice harsh to cover the tremor in my hands.
She scrambled to her feet, clutching her messy stack of papers to her chest. Her eyes were wide behind those thick black frames. They were brown—not a muddy brown, but a rich, warm cognac color. They were terrified.
Good. She should be terrified. She had no idea what I was thinking about doing to her.
"I have to go," she squeaked, backing away. "I have to give this to Coach."
"Stay away from me," I warned, the words tearing out of my throat. It was a plea as much as a threat.
She stopped, blinking. "What?"
"You heard me, Mouse." I stepped into her space again, unable to help myself.
I needed to scare her off. If she came near me again smelling like that, I wouldn't be able to stop.
The Wolf was already clawing at the inside of my ribcage, demanding I bring her to the den.
"You don't belong down here. You're fragile. You're breakable."
I reached out, taking a strand of loose brown hair that had escaped her bun. I rubbed it between my gloved thumb and forefinger. It was soft. So soft.
"One wrong move," I whispered, leaning down until my lips brushed her ear, "and you'll shatter. And I break everything I touch."
She shuddered. I felt it ripple through her body. But she didn't run.
"I'm not as fragile as I look," she whispered back. Her voice shook, but there was steel in it.
The defiance hit me right in the crotch.
Fuck.
"Don't test me," I growled, stepping back and putting distance between us before I did something that would get me expelled and thrown in a cage. "Get your stats to the coach and get out of my tunnel. If I see you again tonight, Riley, I’m not going to be polite."
I turned and stormed toward the locker room, my heart hammering against my ribs like a war drum.
I pushed through the double doors and collapsed onto the bench, putting my head in my hands. The locker room was loud—boys shouting, tape ripping, music blasting—but all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears.
"You okay, Butcher?"
I looked up. Jax, our goalie and my only real friend, was watching me. He was a coyote shifter, smaller, wirier, and too perceptive for his own good. He had his mask pushed up, his eyes narrowing as he sniffed the air around me.
"You smell weird," Jax said, tilting his head. "You smell... obsessed."
"Shut up," I snarled, grabbing a water bottle and squeezing it until the plastic crunched.
"Did you find a mate?" Jax grinned, his sharp teeth flashing. "Is that what that honey smell is? It's all over you, man."
"I said shut up."
I took a drink, the water cool against my burning throat. But it didn't wash away the taste of the air around her.
Riley. The stats girl. The Mouse.
University law was clear. Unbound interaction with Latents or Humans was strictly monitored. If I hurt her, if I claimed her without a bonding ceremony and Council approval, I’d be put down. Like a rabid dog.
But as I sat there, replaying the way her pulse jumped when I touched her, I realized something terrifying.
The Wolf didn't care about the law. And for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure I did either.
I looked down at my hand, the one that had gripped her wrist. I could still feel the echo of her skin.
I was in trouble. We were both in trouble.
Because now that I knew she existed, now that I knew how she smelled... I was going to hunt her. It wasn't a choice. It was gravity.
I stood up, grabbing my helmet. The intermission clock was winding down.
"Let's go," I roared to the room, needing to hit something. Needing to bleed. "Let's go kill something."
As the team howled back, surging toward the door, I made a silent vow. I would stay away from Riley Bennett. I would be cruel. I would be cold. I would drive her away for her own safety.
But even as I thought it, I knew it was a lie.
The hunt had already begun. And I had never lost a game in my life.