Chapter 2
Roman
I’m not sure what I would do without hockey.
I’d be lying if I said that I wasn't intrigued when hockey first came about a hundred years ago, give or take. At the time, I never had the chance to really try it out to see if it was a right fit for me—not right away at least.
Being the commander of a relatively out-of-shape army came with a heavy workload.
It wasn’t until I got them all straightened out and in working order before I could explore more relaxed activities.
I never really wanted anything to do with our armies, but my father was born without status and was never able to acquire one for himself.
Apparently, even being best friends with the king's advisor wasn't enough for him to get his way; that is, until he had me.
He raised me to be everything he wasn't. He loathed his parents for settling for normalcy when he was destined for greatness, or so he says.
He spent my life molding me into exactly what the king needed, which was a warrior.
Not just any warrior, but a leader. His military was solid if needed for defensive purposes, but that was all.
It took hundreds of years, but I trained and built them into an elite machine that can conquer, defend, and protect.
Benny and I started learning and practicing hockey together about thirty years ago.
The nineties were an amazing time for the NHL.
Wayne Gretzky, need I say more? As for Benny and me, we don’t do anything with less than perfection, so we spent a couple decades honing our skills to be the best before we decided to go pro.
The rest of my closest men saw us enjoying ourselves and joined in a while later.
It has always amazed me that humans just believe that there are other humans with basically the same DNA as each other that are just that much bigger, stronger, faster, and tougher.
Pretty much all professional sports are played by a supernatural being, or their less-blood offspring.
While most paranormal creatures' mate and marry within their species, sometimes fate has other plans. Since we’re immortal, it’s nice to have something to do to pass the time now.
The world was so much more boring before organized sports.
Anyway, Benny and I chose hockey. We love the cold, the competition, and getting to beat the shit out of other wolves.
Thanks to our supernatural healing abilities, it looks a lot worse than it really is, and we're usually as right as rain after about an hour or so. Since the US hasn’t adopted rugby yet, this is as good as it gets.
I’d wanted to start a new hockey team in a more rural setting but close enough to big cities that we have everything we need.
After digging around and checking out our options, we set up in Mogadore, Ohio.
It’s less than a handful of hours from my pack, with plenty of close city access, plenty of wooded areas, and lots of corn fields. We’re the Mogadore Predators.
Another thing humans don't know is that when a supernatural being wants to get involved in a sports team, they can contact an existing team, or if they have enough men and money, they can start their own.
We choose someone else to be the team owner, sometimes even letting humans take the reins on the business side of things.
Our publicized team owner is a half-werewolf kid named Kit.
He's about two hundred and fifty years old, he's good at business, and the guys love him.
I say publicized because he's fifty percent owner.
I own the rest of the team, but I don't want the attention or notoriety that goes with it. I just want to play the game. We’ve come a long way in the national rankings, and we get better every year.
Back home, in Zabella, a realm accessible through a rift gate near Romania, I’m still the commander of the werewolf king's army, with Benny as my second, but I left my lead lieutenant in charge of keeping them in line and training any new recruits in my absence. I’ve given over five hundred years, and so much more, to our military and our people.
I need this. The distance. The release. The escape.
The nightmares came with me, of course, but I’d probably be lost without them too.
The team finished drills hours ago, but I still had restlessly angry energy that I needed to keep working off.
So, it’s just me and the ice. I pump my legs as hard as they’ll go, leaning my body through the turns in the rink.
It's too bad hockey rinks aren’t the size of football fields.
I bet I could have one built somewhere. The guys would love that.
The pack probably would too. If I had it built on the pack lands, everyone would have somewhere quiet to skate where they could work their frustrations out as well.
Not even just frustrations, but any restlessness, especially the energetic pups.
I can’t believe I’ve already been the Alpha of the Great Lakes Pack for nearly fifty years. Leading a growing pack is so much different than commanding an army, but there are also similarities. The army is all strict order and physical exertion. The pack is so much more. It’s family. Real family.
My father hated pack life and was too busy kissing royal asses to ever even entertain being a more active part of our world.
The life a werewolf lives in Zabella is different than in this realm.
While there are a few packs, since everyone is werewolf, it's much like the older human civilizations.
Living in village communities across the land, governed by different Alphas that all answer to the king.
Growing up with just my father after my mother died was a cold and lonely existence.
My mother was my light. She was my warmth.
Everyone she encountered seemed to have no choice but to love her.
Her energy was infectious, but she was too light for this world.
My father’s world. He is darkness. I wouldn’t be surprised if his father was the devil himself.
He is cold and detached, and he cares for no one but himself.
His name and reputation are all that ever have or ever will matter.
It’s what led to my sweet mother’s death.
She would have loved the pack that my men and I built.
My closest men came to this realm with me.
Once the decision was made, we packed our belongings, crossed the rift gate, came to the states, and landed in the Great Lakes area.
We settled in the Shawnee State Forest, and the pack just kind of happened.
Other wolves slowly made their way to us, some coming from Zabella to live among humans and others that were already here.
They came seeking shelter, protection, and a pack.
As long as they were hardworking and honest, they were allowed to stay.
I’m shaken from my thoughts, still barreling around the rink, as my men burst through the doors separating the rink from the rest of the arena, squabbling about something I don’t care enough to listen in on.
Benny flags me down, and I make my way over.
While Benny is my second in command of the army, it extends to all things.
He’s also been my best friend my entire life; he’s my pack Beta, and he's my left wing on the ice. I wouldn’t be the man I am without him.
He grounds me. When my darkness takes over and it feels like all light has left the world, he can always find me and bring me back.
He’s also an idiot and doesn’t know when to just shut the fuck up, most of the time.
“Do you realize you’ve had your walls up forever? No one really needs anything, but I’m bored, and the twins are driving Slate crazy,” Benny hollers as I near the edge of the ice.
“If you weren’t so loud and ever stopped talking, I wouldn’t have to block you,” I snap back as I drop onto the bench to remove my skates.
He’s having a tantrum because he never grew out of the stage that pups go through where nothing in this world can shut them up, which means I get tired of listening. So, I erect mental walls to block out communication.
As a pack, anyone can communicate with each other telepathically within the same realm.
Because our communication is telepathic, distance doesn't matter as long as you're within the same plane of existence. While it's an amazing gift, sometimes it just gets too loud in my head, and I need some time with only my thoughts. I can’t imagine having to have those stupid phones stuck to my ear all the time just to communicate like humans do. They don’t even work half the time, especially in the state parks and forests where most werewolf packs reside.
He wasn’t exaggerating, though. I don’t know what Eris and Dolos are on about, but Slate really does look ready to murder them, while Andrei looks bored with the whole mess. Shaking my head, I shout at my Omegas, “What is it now? What is so important that you’re tempting your fate?”
The cheshire grins on their faces never mean good things.
Raising one eyebrow, I look to Andrei for any sign of what’s going on, but his passive expression clearly shows how little he cares.
By the time I reach the twins, they’re nearly bouncing on their toes as they reply, “We might have accidentally stolen Slate’s girl. ”
Scrubbing my hand down my face, I mumble, “Do I even want to know? Slate, is this really about some chick again?”
Turning to face him, he shakes his head and says, “Nah, Boss. I was mad for all of a second, but they can have her. She’s not my mate, so she doesn’t mean anything to me.
They just won’t shut the fuck up.” He stands now, still spewing his frustrations, “They’re the ones that wanted to share her, and I don’t know how many times I’ve told them, I don’t want in on their nasty shit. ”