3. Chapter 1

My fingers wrap around the waxed white laces of my skates, the rough texture biting into my skin as I yank them tight. It's going to be a tough practice, especially since we made it to Regionals.

And then there"s the fact that those fucking Serpents made it too. The thought of facing off against them, against him, makes my blood boil. The memory of my knuckles connecting with Killian Blackwell"s jaw, the satisfying crunch of bone against bone, and the sight of his blood splattering across his face, is still fresh in my mind.

I should"ve done more than just punch him. I should've wrapped my hands around his throat and squeezed until the life drained from his eyes. Maybe then he"d finally learn to keep his fucking mouth shut. However, I would've been suspended for the rest of the season . . . for the rest of my college career.

Probably should've just signed the entry level contract with Winnipeg.

But I still wanted to be the big fish in the little pond, and they felt I could develop more. So, it was a mutual decision not to sign the contract after the draft. However, I doubt they'd follow through if I got arrested for murder.

Connor Walsh, our team captain, strolls over and plops down on the bench next to Alexei, my roommate and our top defenseman. "Eli still mad at you?"

Alexei shakes his head, his expression stoic as ever. "He got over it."

Viktor, our goalie and Alexei"s cousin, lets out a bark of laughter. "He"s mad at him for something else now."

I glance down at my wrist, flexing my fingers experimentally. The ache is still there, a dull throb that serves as a constant reminder of what happened last week. "And Alexei just fucks the tantrum right out of him."

My roommate pins me with a glare. "Maybe you should stop staying in the room when my boyfriend and I have sex."

I meet his gaze head-on, unflinching. "I live there too, fuckhead."

It"s an old argument, one we"ve had a thousand times before. And it always ends the same way, with neither of us willing to back down. I"m not about to get kicked out of my own damn dorm room just so Alexei can get his rocks off with Eli.

Definitely won't mention it's kind of hot watching them fuck.

Not that I"m into guys. At least, I never thought I was. Never looked at Viktor that way. But there"s something about Alexei and Eli's dynamic, something that intrigues me.

And maybe I've perused a few gay porn sites. That did as much for me as threesomes have been lately, aka—not much.

How's it even possible to get bored of sex?

"Your hand getting any better?" Connor's voice cuts through my thoughts.

"Eh, still sore."

Viktor throws his hands up, his expression one of exaggerated frustration. "Can"t believe I missed all the fun having to guard Feisty Mouse."

Our goalie is a bit unhinged. Not as much as our other friend, Zach Knight, who's one cold fuck. But Viktor is like a sociopath on crack some days.

While he might be complaining, we all know he enjoys spending time with his new best friend, latching onto him like an obsessive hellhound. They even have their own little group chat they call Bottoms Up.

"Blackwell got what he deserved," I say.

And he did.

The Serpent's captain has been a thorn in my side for as long as I can remember, always there, always pushing, always trying to get under my skin. We've been at each other's throats since the day he showed up at hockey camp back when we were kids.

Seeing as he was from Massachusetts, I thought I'd never see him again. But over the years we'd play against each other at tournaments, and more often once we started playing at the junior level.

Now we're on rival college teams, only a handful of miles from one another.

We've always been on opposite sides of the ice.

Always fighting.

As if our endless feud is written in the stars or some shit.

Then, last week, the prick ran his mouth after the horn, bringing up the draft, reminding me of how far I fell. It was a low blow. One that I couldn"t let slide.

I waited, took my time until after we got out of the locker room, then it was an all-out brawl. Fucking blood was everywhere.

The look on his face when my fist connected with his jaw, the shock and pain and anger, it was almost worth the ache in my wrist.

Almost.

A roll of clear tape hits me square in the forehead, jolting me out of my thoughts. Alexei snickers, his eyes glinting. "You fantasizing about slitting his throat again?"

I snort. "More like curb-stomping the piece of shit with my skate."

Walsh's nose scrunches. "Why would you wanna wreck your equipment on such a flea?"

Coach Nieminen"s whistle blares through the locker room, the shrill sound cutting through the chatter and laughter. "You pricks ready for practice, or should I leave you behind?"

We all know it"s an empty threat. Coach needs us, needs our skill and our talent and our drive. But that doesn"t mean we"re willing to push him. He has other ways of making our lives miserable, ways that don"t involve benching us.

Plus, I kinda like him. I can see myself being a coach like him one day.

He turns to Alexei. "You get the information for your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Assistant Coach Buckland's lip curls up. Bastard always has a problem with us. Not sure why my father recommended him for the job. He's such a clown. But there's something about him, something that even unsettles Knight. And when the resident psychopath is bothered, there's a problem.

Not to mention his steely focus on me.

For the past two years, the way he looks at me makes my skin crawl. But there's nothing I can do about it because outside of the stares, he's never done anything, never said anything not hockey-related to me.

I grab my helmet and stick, then head out of the locker room, the chill of the rink hitting me like a physical blow. I take a deep breath, letting the cold air fill my lungs, savoring the burn.

This is where I belong. On the ice, stick in hand, ready to do battle, ready to prove to everyone that I"m the best, that I deserve to be here, that I"m not just some late-round draft pick with something to prove.

I take a slow lap around the rink, letting my muscles warm up, letting the familiar rhythm of my skates against the ice soothe my nerves as I head over to the bench where Coach Buckland waits to run us through our first drill.

"Line it up!" he calls, his voice echoing through the empty arena.

I take my place at the front of the line, my heart pounding in my chest, my blood singing with anticipation. And when the whistle blows, I explode forward, my stick flashing as I corral the puck, my skates carving through the ice like claws.

"Not so fast," Walsh growls.

"Scared you can"t keep up?"

While the five of us may be friends, it doesn't mean we won't fuck each other up. And we have at one point or another. It's how we know Knight's the most dangerous. He feels nothing.

Walsh is right on my tail, his breath hot on the back of my neck, his stick jabbing at my side. But I"m faster, stronger, better. With a twist of my wrist, I send the puck sailing into the net, the satisfying swish of the mesh music to my ears.

I turn, spreading my arms wide, soaking up the cheers and whoops from the rookies. They don"t matter, but it riles Walsh up, so why not use it to my advantage.

He skates up beside me. "Cute trick."

The next round, I let Knight take the puck first, content to track him from behind. He"s smooth, calculated, every move precise and deliberate. But he"s too calculating, too predictable. And that"s his weakness.

Right before the goal, I swing wide and clip the puck away, sending it through the targets quick as lightning.

Knight rounds on me, shoulders squared, his eyes cold and hard. "Blackwell still got your panties in a bunch?"

I roll my eyes. "You afraid of a little heat?"

"Were you even bringing any?"

Coach Nieminen"s whistle rips through the air, sharp and shrill. "Cut the shit. Can"t have anyone scratching due to injury at this point."

With a curt nod, I skate away.

Time to get my head back in the game and show Killian Blackwell, the Serpents, and the whole goddamn world what I"m made of, that I'm not just some late-round draft pick.

Even if it kills me.