Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Kardok
Our postseason had begun earlier than it should have, and it was my fault.
The Terrors had a team psychologist, and Coach Ellis had made it clear he wanted me to make an appointment…but I’d been avoiding it. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me I’d fucked up, or to help me deal with my anger—disappointment—bitterness—shame.
I had my Kteer to do that for me.
All orcs are born with this primitive survival instinct, leftover from the times when we huddled in caves and hit things with sticks and stole our Mates from neighboring clans.
It kept us alive and urged us to reproduce before the next freeze, or whatever, but these days, most males I know find it a massive pain in the ass, always getting in the way of their hearts or brains.
Not me, though.
I suppose it was because I’d managed to find a career where I…well, where I hit things with sticks.
Granted, it’s a tiny puck the size of a dog turd, and I do it while zipping around a frozen pond with death blades strapped to my shoes, but it’s the way I’m allowed to feel as primitive as possible.
Plus, I’m really good at it.
Well, I’m good at parts of it. The skating? Sure. The puck-handling? Not so much. The ramming the other team into the glass and breaking noses with my head? Fucking brilliant.
That’s the part where my Kteer kept me alive; my coaches have said I have an instinct they’d never seen before, the ability to know which direction the other guy is going to break and how, exactly, to stop him. My secret is that I don’t ignore my Kteer, I trust it.
Only this time, it really fucked me over.
In that last playoff game—two minutes on the clock, tied score—I should have used my head instead of my instincts. And I don’t mean to ram it into someone else’s stomach.
So no, I didn’t need a counselor to sit me down and talk about my feelings. I knew I’d fucked up, and I knew what kind of feelings I had in response to that fuck up. And I knew I’d do just about anything to make it up to the team.
Apparently, in our world, there was once a tradition of the outcast male approaching the chief with his throat bared as a pledge of humility, respect, and begging to be forgiven.
But Bardon was our team captain, and he was too civilized to know what to do with me if I tried such a thing, so I was going to have to come up with some other way to get them to forgive me.
I’d decided to start by showing up at the ice complex instead of avoiding anyplace the guys might be.
Yeah, it was officially offseason for another month, but most of them had returned from whatever travel they’d planned, or the time they’d taken off to be with their extended families, and were now starting to congregate for workouts or daily scrimmages.
The Teal Terrors were the Orc Hockey League’s most rookie team, and we had plenty to prove. Now we had even more, and it was my fault.
Stepping back inside, my bag over my shoulder, on that first day had been rough.
But when I’d stepped into the gym, Dakvaar had looked up from his weight bar, nodded to me in his taciturn way, and gone right back to sliding on another twenty pounds.
Jord—he wasn’t a rookie, but was the youngest of us—had bounded past, slapping me on the shoulder, and welcoming me back.
At lunch that day, three of the other males on the team had sat at the table where I’d chosen to eat.
Not a damn one of them said anything about that disastrous last game, and how it was my fault we’d lost. In fact, when they did speak of last season, it was with pride in their tone that we’d gone so far as such a young team.
Didn’t they realize we could have gone farther?
The next four days went much the same way, to my surprise. No criticism, no blame from my teammates or the staff who had started to trickle back into work. Coach Ellis was the only one who seemed to understand why I might feel guilty, and he’d never brought it up again.
I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why the fuck was everyone being so welcoming instead?
My Kteer buzzed constantly, keeping me on edge. Didn’t matter how many times I tried to convince myself that there wasn’t danger here, the damn thing wouldn’t shut up. What did it know that I didn’t?
Nothing you should pay attention to.
Right. The last time I’d given it free rein, I’d lost the Teal Terrors the cup.
Better to use my brain instead.
I needed to focus on my teammates, the guys I could make shit up to. But instead of hanging out with them and laughing loudly and acting out whatever sex act Jord was too embarrassed to ask about, I found myself sitting quietly at the table, watching.
Waiting.
That shoe finally dropped on Tuesday. On my way to the facility, I got a text from one of the coaches.
Maddie in PR wants to meet with you today at 4.
I’d sat in my car in the parking lot and frowned down at that message.
Public Relations? I knew the female who’d requested the meeting—she always seemed to be smiling as she thought up some plan or other.
She was part of the reason I’d become so popular with our female fans, frankly, and I suppose—were I the sort of male who didn’t believe in my own superior cunnilingus skills—I owed her thanks.
Still, knowing she wanted to talk to me now, after that last game…my lips twisted into a frown. I hated to think what she had in mind.
If it can redeem you in the eyes of your team and the eyes of the fans, you’ll do it.
Yeah.
Yeah, I would.
No matter how humiliating.
I took a deep breath and texted back with a thumbs-up.
Which is why I found myself hesitating outside Maddie’s office in the executive wing of the complex right before four that afternoon. I’d spent the morning in the gym, and the afternoon on the ice, and I should be feeling loose, relaxed.
Certain.
Instead, I was the opposite of that, and my damn Kteer was rumbling in my chest, putting me even more on edge. Something was about to happen—something big.
I lifted my fist to knock, just as a bustle of activity down the hall drew my attention. I glanced left just as a group of three people emerged from one of the larger offices; the older male I recognized as Rex Fairbanks, the owner of the ice complex that was the Terrors’ unofficial home.
So I sort of backed up respectfully against Maddie’s door, giving him the room to pass by. The woman on his right was holding a phone in one hand, a tablet in the other, and was chattering away about his meetings—her posture screamed assistant. It was the other female, however, who caught my eye…
She was round in all the most delicious places, poured into a tight skirt and a soft, pale blouse.
Look, I’m a male who can appreciate the female form, right?
So of course I noticed her hips and tits first. But when I raised my eyes to her face, I was surprised to see her cheeks were bright pink and her gaze locked on the tile in front of her as she hurried silently beside Fairbanks.
I frowned, studying her. What was wrong? Had Fairbanks said something to upset her? And how could I help?
It was only then that I realized my Kteer had finally—finally—shut up, with my entire body still as I watched the trio hurrying toward me. The stupid piece of biology wasn’t urging me to help the stranger, or flirt with her, or any of the things I would normally try to do with a female that hot.
Instead, I just stood and watched her cheeks pink more—in embarrassment—as she and the others passed me. At the last minute, Fairbanks glanced away from his assistant to meet my eyes, and I saw the recognition flare.
I cringed, expecting him to reference that last game in the playoffs, but instead, he merely inclined his head—a reserved nod between males—and continued past me. Sweeping along behind him was the young female with the honey-gold hair and the stunning ass.
She didn’t look back.
You’re drooling.
No, I wasn’t. I was Kardok the Wicked; I didn’t drool over females, I had them throwing themselves at me. The announcers called me The Wicked One, and that was the truth.
So I shook myself and turned back to the door…only to have it open before I could knock.
Maddie Moskowitz beamed up at me. “Right on time. Come in and hear my latest scheme.”
I followed her dutifully and joined her at the table, then turned down her offer of tea—she knew I didn’t drink coffee—and tried to calm my racing heart as I stacked my hands on the table in expectation. Interestingly, my Kteer was still silent.
“Does this new scheme of yours involve good PR, or bad?” I asked.
“The best PR—the kind that’s going to get the team praised as charitable and invested.”
Well, I couldn’t argue with that; Maddie was good at her job. “And it involves me?” I couldn’t help the hope in my voice.
Redemption.
When she winked, as if she understood what I was asking, I felt my mood improving. Maybe whatever scheme she’d concocted would help…
Maddie launched into a description of where the youth league stood, and I was momentarily distracted.
I wasn’t the only one of the team who felt a kinship toward the kids—mostly human, but a few orc kitlings—who shared our practice space in the evenings.
There were a few of the males who even attended the Junior Terrors’ games to cheer them on.
But I doubt any of us had realized exactly how expensive youth hockey was. Many of us had grown up playing an orcish version that involved no protective gear, and our first experience with all the equipment had been when we’d received sponsorships to pay for them.
My brows went up as Maddie listed the stuff the league needed…and the costs.
“The guys and I could chip in—” I offered, but she waved away the offer.
“Don’t get me wrong, I might take you up on it, but there’s a better way.” She stacked her hands in front of her and leaned in. “I’ve met with Mr. Fairbanks and the head of the Fairbanks Enterprises charitable wing, and we’ve come up with a plan: a charity gala for hockey fans.”