37. Thirty Seven - Tate/Rebel

thirty seven - tate/rebel

. . .

The whistle blows, and the ice crew is skating out onto the ice to do a sweep during the TV time out. Rebel leans over to pick something up off the ice, and the black leggings she's currently wearing stretch over her spectacular ass. How is it that I can want this omega every single second of every single day, no matter what I'm doing?

I flex my fingers in my gloves, trying to remind myself why I cannot skate over there, pull those leggings off, and show the world who this sexy omega belongs to. She would unalive me faster than I could say the color red if I did that.

She lifts her head after picking up an item from the ice, and her eyes meet mine. She playfully narrows her eyes at me, and I give her a wink, to which her cheeks heat up. My cock perks up as her eyes roll like she's offended and not at all interested. I know better, Rebel.

Things have been okay between us since last night. I'll have to remember that next time she's mad at me. Take her mind off of it and give her loads of orgasms.

A whistle sounds from behind me, and I turn to find one of our newer defensemen staring at my mate. I don't even know what his name is, and it doesn't matter. I will end him.

I start to skate over and say something, but Arden stops me. "Don't make a scene, man. He doesn't know."

I nod my head and skate in the opposite direction, towards my goal. Scooping ice shavings with her shovel, she skates past, headed towards the doors where the zambonis come out. I should look away from her, but I can't help myself. She draws my attention every damn time.

She catches me staring at her and rolls her eyes. That's a fucking challenge if I've ever seen one. She should really understand what it does to me when she's like this. Challenging me with her body language will only get her ass smacked later. But maybe that's exactly what she wants.

My girdle tightens, and I cringe. Hard cocks are not meant for cups in hockey situations.

When she gets to the door by the zamboni, she lifts her ice laden shovel into the bin and smacks it against the side, getting all the excess off.

The way her gorgeous tits strain against her tight top she has to wear is unholy. But all the girls on the ice crew wear the same thing. I can't exactly tell her she can't wear it.

Well, I guess I can, but I won't. My little brat wouldn't approve of that one bit. The shirt rises as she bends over to scoop up more ice, and I get the perfect view of her gorgeous stomach. She doesn't have abs. She has a little more padding than some of the other girls on the crew, but she's still fucking gorgeous.

Gorgeous enough to have me gasping for breath every damn time she bends over, giving me a view of her sinful body.

"Head in the game, Tate." Gavin skates past me with a smirk blasted across his face, and I narrow my eyes. The bastard does the same thing when Presley is at the games. He watches her like she's prey. I guess we have more in common than I thought.

I chuckle, but my eyes are still on those sexy as fuck leggings plastered to her toned legs.

Levi skates over to me and tracks where my eyes are drawn. "You got a thing for one of the ice crew omegas, Tate? Is the infamous ladies man, Tate Geekies, officially off the market?"

I grin at him and remove my glove to show him the mark on my hand that Rebel so nicely gave me.

"Oh, fuck!" His eyes widened. "You're mated to her. Does Coach know?"

I chuckle. "He will after tonight. We have some paperwork to sign."

Turning to face Levi, I realize he's distracted by the redhead that's standing in the line of ice crew omegas. She rolls her eyes when she catches him looking at her. Her lips twist into a scowl of disdain, and she says something to one of the other omegas.

"Damn, looks like she's trying to kill you six ways to Sunday with that damn glare of hers."

He grins. Fucker grins, and then says, "Yep."

"You know redheads are spicy, right? Like, she could chew you up and spit you out before you even blinked. She's probably a she-devil."

His cheeks blush like he's a virgin, and I have to really wonder. He is reserved. I've never seen him bring an omega or beta around. He never gets with the puck bunnies. So, he either swings for the other side, is a virgin, or is just really focused on hockey and his career.

He's young. He should be experiencing all there is to being a hockey player; the status, the money, the women.

I look towards Rebel again, but I can only see part of her. The bottom part with those sexy leggings are now hidden behind the boards.

The guys start to head to the circle for the face off, and I take the time to scuff up the ice around my net again. The puck drops, and players fly into motion. Our forwards skate into the opposition's zone, rushing the goalie. Seb tries to distract the goalie from watching as Gavin and Arden pass the puck back and forth between each other.

The crowd grows louder the closer they get to the net. Some people are up on their feet screaming for someone to shoot or for someone to pass the puck.

Gavin shoots the puck, and it bounces off the goal bar, bringing it right back to us. The defensemen from the other team miss the rebound, and it gives us another shot to make the goal. Gavin passes the puck to Arden and gives him the nod, knowing that if Arden takes that slap shot, Gavin will jump out of the way.

He takes his shot, Gavin jumps up, and the puck goes in, bottom right corner of the net. The lamp goes off, and I can't help but shout with the rest of the team and the crowd around us. Goal two of the night. Last game was bad, so we really need to get our shit together and get all the goals now.

The guys skate over, fist bumping or hugging Arden. He takes a cruise past the bench, and all the guys there also fist bump him.

The goal song pumps through the speakers, and half of the crowd sings along while the other half is still screaming their lungs out over the goal.

Even years from now, I'll look back on nights like this and remember what I loved so much about hockey. I love the pure adrenaline that pumps through a crowd. You can't get that kind of support anywhere else, but here, I can feel it. The thrill of saving a puck from going into my goal. The roar of my teammates as we collectively stop that sucker from scoring.

The other team's forwards come flying at me in the next second, the puck is being passed much like our forwards did last play, trying to confuse me on which one will shoot it. I pay close attention to the puck each time it flips in between them. Another one of their players yells that he's open, but these two won't give it up. The one forward lines up to hit a slap shot, but I block it.

He really should work on his faking skills. I had him pegged halfway down the rink. A few guys on my team skate past, giving me a congrats on the stop before taking the puck back to the other end of the ice. The shot gets deflected back to our guys, and they shoot again after setting it up. The lamp goes off a second time tonight, and the crowd loses it again.

REBEL

I've watched Tate ogle me all night long. And when he isn't watching me, I can feel his hot gaze lingering on my skin. As the door opens for the next TV break, the other girls and I race out onto the ice, trying to clean it up as fast as possible. We can't take too long. Five minutes tops.

Only this time, not only are we cleaning the ice shavings, we're cleaning up hats from the hat trick Arden just scored. It wouldn't be a tough thing if this arena wasn't filled with fifteen thousand people, the majority of which are, of course, wearing hats. Lucky me.

I watch as the team skates around all congratulating each other and high-fiving. I have no issues with Arden.

He goes out of his way to do nice things for his team. He's a good captain.

As a matter of fact, the majority of the team is nice. Some of the new guys have egos that are unnecessary. I swear it's like they're trying to prove something by banging everything with two legs. Doesn't help when girls throw themselves at them desperately. It's just tacky in my opinion.

I've never been a big fan of hockey; the brutality, the stories of man-whoring, and the injuries. But now that I've seen a few games, I get the appeal. It's a rush. Like taking a potent drug and living it every night of your life. There's something about the chill of the ice rink and players doing stretches and skating like rock stars that gets me going. I see the hype, I guess, is where I'm trying to go with this.

Shoveling up another pile of hats, I look over to find Nova eyeing me. I'm glad she's back. The bruises are gone for the most part, but I can't stop seeing that frail girl in the hospital bed. "Rebel… I see that look. Wipe it off your face right now. I'm here. I'm good, okay?"

I bite my bottom lip. She's right. I know she is. Nova has always been tough as long as I've known her, and she's apparently not letting this life snafu mess up her vibes.

She's got the trash can held tightly as I shove the hats into it. "So, how's Gunnar?" She turns away, looking towards the bench. Their eyes meet, and he gives her a wink. It's so damn sweet how hung up he is on this girl.

"He's good."

"Do you think he's the one?"

"He won't want me long term, Rebel. I'm a beta. Alphas are meant to mate with omegas. Not us."

I sigh. "Don't tell him what to do. If he wants to date you, let him. If he wants to mark you, consider it. He seems like a good guy, despite my initial thoughts on him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her tone is a little defensive.

"Just thought he was a typical hockey douche canoe."

"He's not."

I smile over at her. "Then I believe you. Just want you to be happy."

"I am."

We make our way back off the ice, and the game resumes. Plays are called, penalties are given, guys end up in the box. A few fights happen. The other team manages to steal two goals from us, and Tate is pissed, but the Hellbenders still end the game 4-2. Another solid win.

She wiggles her eyes at me. "Whatcha wanna do after the game tonight? Let's go hang out. Have a girls night. Maybe invite the guys along."

"If the guys come, then it's not a girls night."

"Don't be smart with me, ma'am."

"I'll be as damn well smart as I want to be."

"What are you doing for the next game? I know it's away. I don't want you to have to stay in that massive mansion all by yourself without Tate to keep an eye on you."

"He's apparently asked Drake to watch over me since he can't play with concussion protocol. Oh, and here's a fun tidbit. Drake is him. The guy from the foster home…"

Her eyes widen. "No, shit. He is the Drake?"

"Yep, and I have no fucking clue how to handle it. I know, I sound like a broken freaking record, but I always thought it'd be us."

"And like I told you before… people can have more than one mate. It's not uncommon. How about you take the few days he's looking after you to feel him out. See how it goes?"

"Why when you say looking after me does it feel like I'm being babysat?"

She playfully swats me on the arm. "Girl, I'd kill to be babysat by a hot hockey player. Maybe you can even get a little taste. Your heat is coming up soon."

"I can't do that with him!" I whisper-shout. "Plus, it shouldn't be here for another week, and that game is in two days."

"All I'm saying is keep an open mind. I'm not saying cheat on Tate. I'm not saying let Drake mark you. I'm just saying take it one step at a time and see how it goes."

"Okay."