81. Plague
Plague
We're getting fucking demolished.
The Buffaloes scored three times in the first period alone.
Whiskey took a penalty trying to compensate for the massive gap in our defensive line where Wraith should be.
Thane blocked an impressive number of shots, but I can't even bring myself to be impressed because it means our offense is collapsing without our power forward.
I sit on the bench during intermission and stare at the concrete floor between my skates, running numbers I already know by heart.
We only have a few days left before the deadline. For Wraith to safely mark Ivy or we lose our instinct defense and everything unravels.
And the locker room is a fucking circus.
Of course.
Whiskey and Coach are yelling at each other, Coach's face a deep furious purple and Whiskey looming over him. Someone drops a water bottle and it rolls across the floor all the way to my skate, spraying me.
I stand and walk out.
The hallway is blessedly quiet and empty. I lean against the concrete wall and close my eyes, fighting off the beginnings of a migraine prickling behind them.
We're useless without Wraith.
Truly fucking useless.
He's been doing better today. He didn't completely try to hide on his way into the VIP box with Ivy. But there's better and there's ready to mark Ivy.
The two aren't necessarily the same.
"You think louder than Whiskey talks."
My eyes open.
Valek is leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed. I didn't hear him follow me. I never hear him.
How did he even get here?
This fucking alpha.
"Go back inside, Valek."
He pushes off the wall and crosses the hall to me, stopping right in front of me. Significantly closer than the situation requires.
"Everything is going to be fine," he says. "Wraith will mark her. She's already planned for it. That's why she layered our marks first. The scar tissue is thicker now. Her plan is sound."
"Her plan assumes his jaw pressure stays controlled during a bonding bite, and his nerves are fried."
"Plague," he sighs wearily.
"And the BioMuzzle is too new to know how it interacts with bonding hormones. There are no studies, none, I've been checking.
"Plague…"
"Valek. If he can't mark her by the deadline, I will watch this entire pack and our team get torn apart because of a deadline some bureaucrat—"
He kisses me.
Gloved hand at my jaw, shoulder pads crowding me back against the concrete, and the rest of the sentence dies in my mouth. He takes his time about it, thorough and unhurried, like we aren't losing and the second intermission buzzer isn't going to sound any minute.
He pulls back an inch, leaving me pathetically breathless.
Valek grins at me, silver eyes bright, thumb still resting against my jaw.
"Are you finished spiraling?"
I'm going to kill him.
Right after we lose this game.