CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Watching Casey fuss with her smoothie the next morning, Eli reached across her small dining table and gave her hand a supportive squeeze. “Your team will win, baby.”

She put down her glass. “I know.”

Eli sensed that she fully believed the Hounds would be victorious—she was always that way before a game. Always filled herself with a bold assurance that they’d win, no matter how good the other team were. Well, self-belief was a powerful thing. “Then stop worrying.”

“I’m not worrying … per se. I’m—”

“Thinking too much. You’re focused, but you’re not in your usual zone.” His wolf was worried about her. Eli tipped his head to the side. “Is it because you know you’ll be challenging Sherryl later?”

“Not really. I hate that the game will be tainted by the shit going on between me and her, though. I want it to be about soccer, nothing else. I want both teams to strive to win, not to hurt each other out of spite.”

“I get it.” He took a sip of his coffee. “It might be that way in the beginning, but you can bet your ass the focus will shift to the need to win as soon as the first goal is scored. That’s when everyone’s competitive streak will flare.” But none would ever burn as bright as hers. Eli never would have thought he’d meet anyone more competitive than him or his sister, but Casey had them both beat.

“You look good in my jersey,” she said.

His mouth kicked up into a smile. He’d insisted that she get him one, determined to wear it at her game. The moment his pack mates saw it, they’d all whined that they didn’t have one. His mate had seemed somewhat befuddled by it all, but she’d agreed to their request to get them each a jersey of their own.

“Not as good as you look in my shirts and tees,” he told her.

She snorted. “There’s never any sense in me wearing them. You just take them off.”

“Only because you look so hot in them that I have to have you right then.”

“Well, since I want to ride you while you’re wearing my jersey, I can’t really judge.”

Like that, his dick went hard. “Little witch. You can’t say stuff like that when you have a no-sex-before-games rule. It’s just plain mean.”

“But fun.” She polished off the rest of her smoothie and stood. “Need to use the bathroom. I’ll be back in a sec.”

He swatted her ass as she passed, smirking at her mock cry of outrage. Hearing his cell chime, he placed his mug on the coaster and pulled out his phone. Nick. Eli swiped his thumb across the screen and greeted, “Hey.”

“I have an update for you,” said Nick. “But you’re not gonna like it.”

Eli stilled. “Go on.”

“Remember Cain said he might know who the falcon was that led the attack on you?”

“Yeah, he told me that one of his associates from The Movement would check it out.”

“Well, Cain just got a call from said associate. The guy had a long chat with a certain lone falcon, who apparently played dumb for a while. But when the chat got a little too intense, the avian admitted he was part of the attack on you. He also confessed that Ignacio was the person who hired him.”

Eli’s upper lip curled, and his wolf sliced out his claws. “Fucker.”

“Yeah.” There was a wealth of fury in that one word.

Taking a deep breath, Eli scrubbed a hand down his face. “I can’t do anything about this right now.”

“Today is about Casey, I know. We’ll all be there for her, cheering her on—both at the game and during the challenge. Ignacio can wait until tomorrow. It’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

Tomorrow, Eli promised himself, taking a long breath. He’d deal with the bastard tomorrow. Right then, he needed to concentrate on staying calm so that he didn’t alert Casey that something was wrong. He’d wait until later before sharing Cain’s news.

“How is Casey?” Nick asked.

“Nervous but focused.”

“Good. Tell her not to let Sherryl draw her into a fight. She will try it.”

“Casey knows that.” Eli lifted his mug and took another sip of his coffee. “She won’t fall for it.”

“Sherryl knows her well, which means she’ll know how to get under her skin,” Nick pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter. Casey’s ready for it. She won’t snap.” She was smarter than that.

“Let’s hope not.” With that, Nick rang off.

Eli pocketed his phone just as she returned to the kitchen. “Nick called to check how you were doing. He’s worried that Sherryl will manage to goad you into attacking her on the field. As he said, she knows you well, so she knows how to get under your skin.”

“Yeah, but that works both ways. I don’t want to start shit on the field, though. I’ll bide my time and wait until after the game.”

Eli snatched her hand and tugged her onto his lap. “No matter what happens today, I’m proud of you.” Proud to have her as his mate. Any male would be. It was little wonder that she’d caught Ignacio’s attention—Eli should have seen right off that the cougar wanted her. Just the mere thought of Ignacio made his jaw clench.

“Everything okay with you?” she asked, her far-too-perceptive eyes sweeping over his face. “Something’s bothering you. What is it?”

“I don’t like that I have to sit on the bleachers while you play today.” It was true, just not the entire truth. “Donahue vetoed me sitting with the coaching staff; said she’d only allow it if you needed to be benched. If Sherryl and her teammates go at you—”

“There’d be nothing you could do about it anyway,” she finished. “The Seals will commit a few fouls, but they’ll be careful not to go too far. They won’t risk getting sent off the field.” Well, Casey hoped they wouldn’t. It really all depended on how much Sherryl had succeeded in riling them up—something the bitch was quite good at. She’d certainly wound Mallory up tight.

Casey traced the stubble on his jaw. “I’ll be fine. You just concentrate on helping Marcus keep Roni in her seat. She’s pissed at Sherryl, and I don’t think it would take much to make your sister charge onto that field and try to deal with the bitch herself.”

“Baby, all the females of the pack want to get their hands on Sherryl. Honestly, I won’t be surprised if they pull out pom-poms when you’re beating the shit out of her outside the Hounds’ headquarters later.”

Casey’s mouth quirked. “Yeah, well, Roni in particular has a real hard-on for Sherryl.”

“Roni’s very protective of you. Plus, any insult to you is an insult to me—she won’t tolerate that. Marcus will keep her calm, though. If you ask me, it’s Madisyn we need to worry about. That female is crazy. There’s no warning with her. One minute she’s looking at you, the next minute her cat is latched onto your face.”

“I like her.” Casey interlocked her fingers behind his neck. “I like her cat, too. She’s awesome.”

“You would say that—she brings your mink dead rodents as gifts. Rodents they both then often play soccer with.”

“That’s partially because both the cat and Madisyn like to torment Bracken.” And Casey had to admit, it was always fun to watch the enforcer lose all patience with his mate. Her mink found it highlyentertaining.

Combing her fingers through Eli’s hair, Casey tugged lightly. “You’re staring.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re beautiful.” He kissed her. “And mine. So very, very mine.”

“Yours,” she agreed. His mouth took hers again, all lazy and languid, kissing her until she felt like her bones would melt. Yeah, her mate knew how to make every bit of edginess drain from her system.

Pulling back, she flicked a look at the wall clock. “I have to go.”

“I know.” He tapped her ass. “Come on, let’s get you to the headquarters.”

A short while later, he parked outside the building and asked, “You ready for this, baby?”

She took a slow breath. “Ready.”

His eyes roamed over her face, and whatever he saw there made him nod in approval. “I won’t say good luck, because you don’t need it. Just do what you always do and give it your all—no one can ever ask more of you than that.”

“I will.”

“Remember what I said earlier: I’m proud of you, no matter what happens today.” He reached out, cupped her chin, and breezed his thumb over her jaw. “I love you.”

“Right back atcha.”

He let out a playful growl, tightening his hold on her chin. “I want the words.”

Amused, Casey forced a sigh. “God, you’re annoying.”

“Casey.”

“I love you.”

He slowly released her. “Now you can go.”

“Why, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now get out there, annihilate the Seals, and deal with Sherryl so I can take you home and fuss over you. Then, after you’ve rested, we’ll move your things to our lodge, and then I’ll be fucking you until you scream in our bed.”

“Hmm, sounds promising.” Casey grimaced as she slid out of the SUV and into the baking heat. Seriously, it was sweltering hot with only a very mild breeze. Not great weather for a soccer game. “See you later,” she told Eli, throwing her duffel over her shoulder.

As she walked inside the building, she felt that familiar acute sense of purpose settle in and fill every part of her, so there was no room for anything else—not doubt, not nerves, not outside issues. She exchanged nods with each of the staff as she prowled to the locker room. All eyes looked her way when she pushed open the door. In various states of undress, her teammates called out greetings.

Sitting on the bench tying her cleats, Emma smiled. “Ooh, Case, you have that bloodthirsty look on your face. Good. That means you’re in your zone.”

Securing her curly hair into a tight, messy ponytail, Kristin bumped Casey’s shoulder with hers. “We’ll win this, Frost, I’m telling you.”

Casey plopped her duffel on the bench. “Fuck, yeah, we will.”

She pulled on her uniform and put her things in her locker, not allowing her thoughts to drift from anything other than the upcoming game. It was as she was tugging her socks up over her shin guards that their coach clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Ladies, now that you’re all dressed, the ref would like a quick word.” Donahue stepped aside.

A tall, gangly male stepped forward, his face set into a hard mask. “I’ve been made aware that there’s bad blood between the two teams,” said the ref, settling his fists on his narrow hips. “I don’t want this bleeding over onto the field. I want a clean game. If I see any indication that anything other than soccer is going on out there, I’ll act on it immediately. Be professional and keep your personal matters out of it. I’ll be issuing the same warning to the Seals.” On that note, he left.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” said Emma. “I’m guessing he doesn’t want a repeat of what happened in Arizona years ago when a fight broke out on the field.”

Kristin turned to Casey. “The Seals will still come at you. They’ll just be sneaky and subtle about it.”

“Yeah, they will,” Casey agreed. “And while their attention is divided between me and the ball, you’ll all take advantage of it, won’t you?”

Emma’s smile was a little feral. “We sure as hell will.”

Outside, after Donahue gave them her usual pep talk, the Hounds jogged onto the field and took up their positions.

Stomach fluttering, Casey inhaled the familiar earthy scents that always filled her with calm. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, heightening her awareness, readying her mind and body, and making her “fight” instinct kick in. In many ways, the game was a fight. A fight to win and prevail.

Anticipation. Aggression. Eagerness. Determination. All of it hummed in her blood. As always, knowing Eli was out there, watching and supporting her, gave her that extra incentive to kick ass.

Soon enough, the Orlando Seals jogged onto the turf. Feeling the weight of someone’s gaze, she looked to see Sherryl glaring at her so hard it was a wonder there weren’t lasers shooting out of her eyes. Casey’s mink swiped out with her claws, her body all puffed up. But Casey only quirked an eyebrow before glancing away, dismissing her. She wasn’t going to give the bitch any warning of what was to come after the game.

Putting all thoughts of the challenge away, Casey rolled back her shoulders.

Bouncing lightly in place, Emma caught her eye and mouthed, “We got this.”

Yeah, they damn well did.

“There’s the little bitch,” Roni snarled as the Seals took up their positions.

“Sherryl?” Madisyn looked around. “Where? Which one?”

Roni pointed at her. “That one with the mop of pink hair.”

Madisyn’s nose wrinkled. “Casey can take her.”

“See how smug and superior the Seals look?” asked Mila, sitting directly behind Eli. “They think this is in the bag.”

“They’ve won more competitions than any other team has,” Eli pointed out. “They’re dumb to be cocky, though.”

Rubbing her arm, Kathy glanced around the bleachers. “Is it always this packed?”

Nick’s hand dived into Shaya’s popcorn. “There’s normally a lot of spectators, but there’s way more than usual today. I guess no one wants to miss the final.”

There wasn’t an empty seat in sight. Many of Eli’s pack mates were there—his Alphas, Kathy, Roni, Marcus, Madisyn, Bracken, Gwen, and Zander. The others had needed to remain behind to guard their territory and pups, but they hadn’t been happy about it, which was why Shaya promised she’d record the whole game with her cell phone. As they were sitting in their usual seats on the front row, she had an unobstructed view.

Some of the Phoenix Pack had also come along, including Taryn, Mila, Jaime—none of whom were pleased that they didn’t have jerseys of their own—Dante, and Dominic. They were sitting in the row behind Eli.

The atmosphere buzzed with the same anticipation that Eli could feel swelling within his mate. It was the first game his mother had attended, and he was glad she was there; understood she was making the gesture that she considered Casey to be part of the family. About damn time.

“Casey looks good, Eli,” said Clare, sitting further down the row with Adrian. “Composed. Alert. Ready for battle.”

She did, thought Eli. The picture of pure focus, she stood solid and at the ready, her eyes bright with vigilance and bloodthirst. His wolf approved.

“I’m kind of worried the Seals will purposely injure Casey to get her out of the game.” Shaya rubbed her thighs. “Not just to please Sherryl, but because Casey’s the best player—if the Hounds lose her, it would dampen their confidence and lessen their chances of winning.”

“Quite a few of the Seals are slanting glares at Casey,” said Gwen.

“I noticed that, too,” said Taryn. “I also noticed that it’s making a few of the other Seals uneasy. I’d say that if there’s a plan of some kind to target Casey, not all of the Seals are comfortable with it.”

Eli had made the same observation. “Any type of divide in the team is good. It’s a weakness. The Hounds will see it.” They’d also exploit it.

Bracken grunted. “If Sherryl’s teammates are so protective of her that they’ll target Casey on the field during the final, they might not be prepared to stand back when Casey challenges her.”

Madisyn patted her mate’s knee. “No need to worry about that. Us girls have that covered.” Her tone was neutral, but Eli heard the menace there.

“Not if they shift into their mink forms to fight,” said Dante. “They might be small, but I wouldn’t try getting in the middle of them.”

“Random question,” began Gwen, her tone ever so casual, “will bullets do much to slow down a group of raging minks?”

Zander turned to his mate and hissed under his breath, “Tell me you’re not armed.”

“I’m not armed,” said Gwen.

The whistle sounded, making Eli’s pulse spike. Both teams went at it.

Within minutes of the game, Eli saw why the Seals had such an impressive record. They were quick. Sharp. Far more skilled than any of the other teams he’d seen the Hounds compete against.

Fierce and determined, Casey’s team played well and kept up the pressure. Nonetheless, the Seals were in possession of the ball pretty much seventy percent of the time. When the Hounds did manage to gain possession of it, the Seals had little problem intercepting the ball.

As time ticked by and no goals were scored, his gut churned. The Seals were indisputably dominating the game, and that only seemed to feed their confidence and surety that they’d win.

The Seals created several scoring chances, but the Hounds were there each time, redirecting the ball. It was something they were exceptionally good at. He wondered if the coach had had them work hard at it, anticipating that the Hounds would find themselves in this very situation.

The defender marking his mate was fast and fluid. She made it hard for Casey to have enough space to get off a shot. But she was nowhere near as good a player as his mate. Casey, able to go from a slow walk to a purposeful run in a second, repeatedly left the defender in the dust as she tackled, sprinted, chased, and blocked.

Casey also did a lot of subtle, simple feints that consistently fooled the Seals. As such, she almost scored four times. Sadly for her, the Seals’ goalkeeper was exceptionally good.

When another of Casey’s shots were blocked, Roni spat a vicious curse. “It’s only a matter of time before she scores so long as she keeps piling on the pressure.”

Maybe the Seals had that same thought, or maybe it had been their plan all along to wait until they were midway through the first half of the game before targeting Casey, but many of them turned their attention to her. And since the Seals were easily dominating the game, they could afford to redirect their attention that way.

Sherryl kept her distance from Casey, but the others didn’t. And as he felt a dark fury begin to build within his mate, Eli worried that it wouldn’t be long before she’d retaliate and find herself red-carded. Shit.

Picking herself up off the ground yet again, Casey wiped the grass and dirt from her hands onto her jersey. These bitches needed to burn in the ninth circle of hell.

They’d been making a nuisance of themselves since minute one. At first, they’d been happy to simply hiss little insults at her—bitch, whore, heifer, slut. Like she’d cared. The dirty bitches even spat at her, their bodies always angled in a way that prevented the ref from seeing.

Ignoring them, Casey kept on kicking, passing, heading, dribbling, and shooting. And then the Seals really got down to it. Elbows jabbed into her ribs hard. Fingers subtly pinched sensitive parts of her skin. Feet stomped on her own and grazed her legs with their heels, or “accidentally” tripped her.

Eli must have felt an echo of her pain each time she was fouled, because anger spiked down their bond again and again. That anger fed her own and intensified that of her mink, making it difficult for Casey to ignore the urge to lunge at the little bitches—which was just what the Seals wanted. Instead, she continued to play, even as several parts of her body throbbed, stung, and ached.

The baking heat only served to agitate her more. Her throat was parched, and her skin was hot and damp with sweat. She repeatedly flapped the front of her jersey, trying to cool down. She’d just love some rain right about now, but there still wasn’t a cloud in sight.

The ref would no doubt have pounced on the fouls if the Seals weren’t being so subtle. She didn’t once appeal to him. The Seals might not realize it, but they were playing into her hands. Because the more they got away with their little sneak attacks, the bolder they got—it was only a matter of time before they fucked up and a Seal got themselves sent off the field.

Also, they were paying less and less attention to the ball itself whenever they came at her; more intent on causing her pain than regaining possession of the ball. Determined to take advantage of that, she bided her time, waiting for just the right moment. Sadly, that opportunity didn’t come before the whistle blew to signal the end of the first half of the game.

As she began to walk off the field during half-time, Sherryl shouldered her hard and said quietly, “Oh, the talented Casey Frost fails to score. Then again, ‘failure’ runs in your family, doesn’t it? How is your junkie brother, by the way?”

Balling up her hands, Casey ground her teeth. She’d love to send one of her fists crashing into this heifer’s jaw. “You know, I can’t help but get the feeling that the smartest thing that ever escaped your mouth was a dick.”

Sherryl hissed, and then one of the other Seals slid between them and urged her to calm down.

Leaving them to it, Casey headed into the building. As the Hounds sat in the locker room, Dennis healed people’s wounds while Donahue gave them yet another pep talk—telling them not to lose hope, rallying their spirits, and dishing out her own brand of tough love.

Donahue then looked at Casey. “I noticed the Seals were targeting you and—”

“Taking risks that are going to backfire on them,” Casey finished. Mouth so dry it felt sticky, she gulped down water from her bottle. “Let them keep on thinking they’re being sneaky and clever. They’ll slip up.”

Kristin stuck her chin out. “And we’ll all be ready when they do.”

Soon, the teams were once again positioning themselves on the field. Casey sensed that Sherryl was doing her best to catch her eye, but Casey paid her zero attention. The whistle sounded, and all the players sprung to life.

Again, the Seals hogged the ball. Again, they also had their sick fun with Casey; did more pinching, elbowing, spitting, and tripping her up so often that her skin tingled with turf burns.

A Seal midfielder cockily committed a foul right under the ref’s nose. Even though Casey’s knees and palms burned from the fall, she inwardly smiled as the ref issued the midfielder a yellow card. Some of the Seals surrounded him and tried appealing his decision, but no amount of whining from them made any difference.

Really, you’d have thought the Seals would then have decided to be more careful. They didn’t. And then the opening that Casey had been waiting for finally came.

Powering past the bitches trying to crowd her, she intercepted a kick from one of the Seals. Heart beating rapidly in her chest, Casey rocketed up the field, steering the ball with her instep. Most of the Hounds seemed to stampede toward the opposition’s goal, and hardly any of them were covered by Seals because the bitches were too busy descending on Casey.

Undeterred, she kept moving, feinting, and dribbling. Mere seconds before a Seal defender tripped her, she kicked the ball, passing it to Kristin. Casey went down hard, and pain streaked up the back of her leg. She ignored it, her eyes locked on the ball as Kristin booted it hard. It zipped through the air and straight into the low, right corner of the net.

The Hounds roared. Kristin let out a war-cry. Cheers and hoots sounded from the spectators.

Casey jumped to her feet, ignoring the twinge of pain in her leg, and ran to her teammate. She and Kristin collided, hugging each other tightly. Some of the other Hounds surrounded them, roaring in triumph.

Glancing around, Casey could see that the Seals were beyond shocked. Maybe they’d just figured it would be an easy win, maybe they just had a whole lot of confidence in their goalkeeper, or maybe they’d thought that making it hard for Casey to play would be enough to stop the Hounds from scoring—she didn’t know.

As for Sherryl … her face was twisted into a mask of pure fury.

Moments later, the teams were playing once more. Just as Eli had predicted, everyone’s focus seemed to snap onto the game, as if the Seals finally remembered why they were there. But, shockingly, they began to play like crap. They were totally invested in the game, but they couldn’t seem to get their shit together. The Hounds, on the other hand, had never played better—no doubt partly because the goal had lifted their spirits.

Casey’s leg was still smarting from her awkward fall. She knew it would give her some grief throughout the rest of the game, but she’d be damned if she’d show it. The Seals would pounce on that weakness and target her leg again and again.

The defender marking Casey ceased trying to foul her and instead threw all her energy into trying to block her shots. The bitch was good, so she often succeeded. But not always.

At one point, Casey spun, using her body to shield the ball from the defender. Timing it just right, Casey abruptly swerved and then volleyed the ball hard. It sank into the net. Joy lifted her heart. She smiled as Eli’s pride and elation hummed down their bond like a congratulatory hug.

The Seals then seemed to get desperate, because they were committing fouls here, there, and everyfuckingwhere.

One Seal crashed into Kristin with such force that she knocked the midfielder down. The side of Kristin’s head smacked hard into the ground. The harsh whack made Casey wince. She would have been surprised that her teammate hadn’t passed out if it had been anyone other than Kristin—the girl had a hard head.

The captain bounced to her feet, seething as her infamous temper kicked in, and went nose to nose with the offending Seal. Oh, shit.

Casey and Emma quickly dashed over and slipped between the two players. The ref hadn’t seen the foul, so he didn’t act on it. That only pissed Kristin off more, so it wasn’t easy to talk her down from punching the ref in the throat—something she vowed she’d do to him the moment the game was over, which made him swallow hard.

Red splotches covering her damp face, Kristin shoved at her short sleeve and settled for spitting at the offending Seal’s feet. “Bitch.”

Panting, throat raw, Casey guided her away and said, “She went after you on purpose, knowing you were likely to snap. We can’t afford for you to get sent off the field. Keep it locked down, yeah?”

Wheezing, Kristin nodded. “Yeah,” she bit out. “For now.”

Casey patted her back. “Good girl.”

A faint breeze whispered over her, dancing across her damp skin like caressing fingers. That small respite from the glare of the sun was most welcome. There was still twenty minutes left of the game to go and, God, she was tired. Tired and aching and sore as hell from the many fouls.

She wasn’t the only one who was exhausted, she thought, as the players resumed the game. All around her people panted and dragged their feet, clearly digging deep for the strength to keep moving.

Although the Seals were losing, they eventually managed to get their act together. And then they were pursuing the ball like it held the secret to immortal life. A few players almost scored a shot, but the Hounds’ keeper caught the ball each time and hurled it downfield.

When the keeper did it a fourth time, a Seal intercepted the ball and passed it to Sherryl, who managed to nail a kick that sent the ball careening into the Hounds’ net.

Well, fuck.