Page 1 of Traded

Chapter one

Opening Night and Hairy Kiwis

Games Played:0/82

Blackwater Titans

0–0–0

T-1 Atlantic Division

Callum Morris, NPHL Network Analyst:

“The Titans might be soaring into this season as Everly Cup favorites, Jeff, but the Aces seem determined to prove last year’s surge was no fluke. With Blackwater’s rival franchises both facing a playoff run, it’s shaping up to be an explosive season ahead.”

Gripping my instrument of torture in one hand and a loudspeaker in the other, I raise it to my lips before puffing out my cheeks and blasting a direct strike at the trio of sleeping alphas sprawled across my nest.

Their reactions are nothing short of spectacular.

All three bolt to life as my bellow echoes through the room, helped along by the loudspeaker I might have borrowed from the equipment room at the rink.

Sorry, Eddie.

“Up and at ‘em! It’s game day, bitches. Opening night waits for none of us. Get your asses moving.”

“This hour is ungodly.” Jonas yanks the covers over messy golden-brown hair until only a few curls stick out. His words come out muffled. “What moron came up with this?”

My entire body bounces as I launch myself into the pile of bedding. Carter’s hands grab my waist, steadying me. His words are still filled with sleep. “Youdid, asshole.”

I beam at Jonas. “I know I said I wasn’t sure, but I agree. The horn was an excellent addition to the alarm.”

“Of course you do,” Liam mutters. His arm is thrown over his eyes, blocking out the overhead lights I switched on before beginning our pack-approved, officially Rosie Johnson-certified game day routine. His other hand skates up my side, and I wriggle closer into Carter with a snicker. “If there’s any chaos to be found, you’re going to be in the middle of it.”

My smile spreads as Carter tugs me with him, sprawling back into the warm blankets and finding my skin beneath my tank. His lips press against my temple as I shamelessly bury my face and mumble into his—very nice, very warm, twenty out of ten,yum—chest. “Game day. How are you feeling?”

“All good here.” Carter shifts until I’m settled on top of him, my legs on either side of his hips. “And fully rested.”

He smirks up at me, all deep blue eyes and innocence. “Ready for my warm-up, coach.”

I suck in a breath as his hips flex, and I try to hide my approval. “This wasnotin the routine.”

“Goes without question.” His smile is wolfish as his fingers find the dips in my hips beneath my shorts, stroking my bare skin. “But we can write it on your clipboard if it makes you feel better.”

Frowning, I consider it. “I’m not sure there’s space—ack!”

Carter twists, rolling until he hovers over me, a few strands of dark blond hair falling over his face. His smirk wavers, before spreading as though the flicker of pain was never there at all. “Morning, baby.”

Maybe I imagined it. My eyes narrow. “Your shoulder? Again?”

“It’s fine.” He rocks against me, and my breath leaves my lips as easily as my mind empties of any thought at all.

Liam swallows my gasp, his lips finding mine before dropping down to my neck. When his teeth graze the skin of my throat, my entire body loosens. “Can you run through this routine for us, Ro?”

What?

My eyes shutter when his tongue traces my collarbone. “Uh…breakfast?”

“Was that a question?” Carter’s fingers slowly draw down my shorts. Jonas appears on my other side, his brown hair a curly mop and his smile full of wicked promise. “You’ve been planning the season for months. None of us know what to do without you. Don’t flake on us now, Johnson.”