The puck dropped. There was a scuffle, and the human team got control.
I wasn’t sure when I started holding my breath. Maybe it was the moment the opposing forwards broke into the zone. Maybe it was the moment Eng dropped into his stance—broad shouldershunched, tusks gleaming under the arena lights, every line of him sharpened with focus.
The puck snapped from stick to stick, speeding toward Eng. The opposing player raised his stick for a shot, and every muscle in my body tensed.
“Come on, come on… Do it. Protect the net,” I whispered.
The human fired his shot.
Eng moved like the world slowed for him—dropping low, massive pads slamming into the ice with a force I swear I could feel even from the stands. The puck ricocheted off his left pad and shot into the corner. It was a clean save—too powerful, but clean.
The crowd roared. I clapped, cheering with everyone else, but it wasn’t the same. They were celebrating the save. I was celebratinghim. He’d spent the entire season propping up the wall, but here he was fighting for his team, putting everything he had into the game. It was as if the real Eng had broken through the orc he’d been trapped behind by birth and duty, and had become someone amazing.
Play swung back to the point. The opposing players took another shot, this one skimming through bodies. I lost sight of the puck—too many players in the way—and my heart jerked painfully. But Eng must have seen it.
The orc surged upward, glove snapping out with a grace no one could have expected from someone who’d spent most of the season sullenly refusing to play. He caught the puck like it had always belonged there, slamming firmly into his glove.
I exhaled shakily. “Show-off,” I murmured, smiling.
“Fuck yeah!” Abby shouted. “He deserves to show off. That was one hell of a save!”
Eng held the glove up for an extra beat, letting the crowd see it. Lettingmesee it, I was sure. Then he dropped the puck tothe ice and pushed it to his defenseman—only for an opposing forward to jump on it immediately.
Eng charged, an aggressive move for a goalie, especially one with mediocre skating ability. But in spite of that, his stick swept the puck away cleanly, and the human forward crashed straight into him. It looked like the human had hit a wall—a very determined, very unmovable wall.
The ref dropped the puck for a faceoff, and I leaned forward again, fingers gripping the railing.
“Come on Tusks, come on,” Jordan muttered.
The puck hit the ice. A shot followed immediately. Eng kicked it aside.
Another shot—blocked.
A third—he dove, stretching out with impossible reach, glove flashing across the goal line and sealing around the puck.
For one perfect moment, the entire arena held its breath. Then it erupted.
“Eng! Eng! Eng!”
I could hardly believe it. The crowd was doing something other than laughing at the orcs. They were cheering—and they were cheering for Eng.
The orc rose slowly, steam spiraling from his breath in the cold. I felt heat bloom in my chest—fierce, proud, protective in its own way. He lifted his mask, and even from the stands, I saw his grin. That wide, sharp, vulnerable grin he only ever let slip when he forgot to be a total asshole of a prince.
Our eyes met. Or I imagined they did. It didn’t matter. The warmth was the same—lightning under my skin, a promise in the space between our hearts. He was strong, fierce, and had been willing to change everything, risk everything for me.
Watching him tonight, I fell even more in love.
42
WILLA
Ihad warned him. I hadabsolutelywarned him. My family was…well, it was a lot and they were going to be ten times a lot since I’d given them the heads-up I was bringing a boyfriend to Sunday family dinner—and that it was serious between Eng and I.
Now I wondered if I’d overdone it, because Eng looked as if he were preparing to go into battle. Which was comical given that he was holding a pie in one enormous hand and a bottle of whisky in the other. I wouldn’t want to go into battle with a pie, but a bottle of whisky might be a useful weapon.
“Eng,” I said gently, squeezing his arm, “they’re going to love you. They’re going to be loud and obnoxious and give you all sorts of shit, but they’ll love you. BecauseIlove you.”
I reached out for the door handle, trying to ignore the faces peeking out at us from behind curtains.
