Page 2 of Vampire Pack

It had nearly cost us the Stanley Cup last season. He had agreed then that it would never happen again.

The loud snap of a stick hitting a puck echoed, and I instinctively dropped to the butterfly position, on my knees.

My head pounded hard, but I tried not to notice.

My ears strained as I listened.

I could hear it.

I just couldn't⁠—

King dove, barely catching the puck with his leg pads as he slid on the ice.

The crowd roared.

The clock hit zero, and the buzzer sounded loudly.

King was upright on his skates in an instant, dragging me upright too.

The crowd around us screamed, but I didn't hear it.

King tried to grab my helmet, but I shoved his hand away.

He pushed me backward until I hit the goalpost. He didn't do it gently, but he didn't hurt me, either. The position gave him better access to yank on my chinstrap and rip my helmet off my head.

"Back off," I growled at him around my mouthguard, while trying (and failing) to shove his hand away again.

He ignored me, dropping my helmet and grabbing my chin. His stick was already on the ice, completely forgotten.

King tipped my head back, looking for bruises that he wouldn't find. They were hidden by my hair, this time. His silver eyes burned into me, contrasting with his tan skin and the white fangs I could just see the tips of through the caged helmet he wore.

"I'm fine." I shoved his hand away for a third time, and he finally let go of me.

Not because I told him to.

Because he didn't see any bruises.

He didn't say a word, glowering at me for a solid thirty seconds before he finally skated away to join the rest of our team.

Very aware of the many eyes on me, I grabbed my helmet off the ice and yanked it back into place before skating out to join the team.

As the only woman on my professional ice hockey team, I always had too many eyes on me.

And as the only goalie with a defenseman who may as well be their personal guard, I had even more.

It was the first game of the season, so everyone was watching even closer than usual. It felt a little jarring, after months away from the spotlight.

Months without being attacked by hockey players on whatever teams we were playing against, too. The other teams targeted me just because it was their only chance to fuck up the solid defense King and I ran.

Goalies weren't supposed to fight unless they chose to. That hadn't deterred anyone, though. And because our league consisted only of werewolves and vampires, that particular rule was enforced loosely.

I reached the rest of the team quickly. A bunch of the guys slapped me on the arms, helmet, and shoulders as I joined their celebration in progress.

What had just happened between me and King wasn't a unique occurrence.

And despite the unfortunate tackle, I'd played well.

We all had.