I had genuine feelings for the grouchy, bossy entitled alpha.
The start of the game was a thankful distraction from my thoughts, as the teams were announced, skating onto the ice in a flurry of green and blue strobe lights, doing a quick lap around the rink before it all got underway. Kellan won the first face-off, taking the puck through the other team quickly, before passing it off to another wolf.
The Dashers easily blocked their first attempt at goal, and then they had possession, racing back along the ice. It was a fast-paced game, and I was trying to keep up with my limited knowledge of hockey, only taking my eyes off the players when snacks arrived.
Delivered to us by Gerry, of all shifters.
“You’re supposed to be watching the game, not working,” I said with a frown as he handed Hunter hotdogs, fries, nachos, and drinks. “We can get our own food.”
He scoffed, shaking his head with a scowl. “I needed to ensure you got the best quality of what they had to offer. This is all made by my hand, and is as good as we can get here. TheAnnandale pack keeps our rink’s catering up to scratch, but here I don’t trust these Dashers.”
Three of Warrick’s pack ran the hospitality sector at the Celtic Wolves’ stadium, and I had to remember to compliment them the next time we caught up. Their food had been excellent.
“Well, thank you, Gerry,” I said as he tucked his empty tray under his arm. “Where are you sitting?”
He pointed to the row in front of us and down a couple of seats. Florence was seated in that section, a teal scarf wrapped around her neck, and a giant foam finger on her hand. She was laser-focused on the ice, while simultaneously stuffing a hotdog into her mouth with her free hand.
Goddess, I loved that shifter.
“Flo is a hardcore Celtic’s fan,” Gerry said, following the direction of my gaze. “And I’m a hardcore Florence fan. It all works out.”
My eyes widened, because that was news to me, while also making perfect sense. “Don’t leave your lady waiting, Gerry,” I ordered, shooing him away. “And thanks for the food.”
He tipped his head and then hurried back toward his seats, sliding in next to Florence. “Did you know about Flo and Gerry?” I murmured, looking between Hunter and Slade. They’d been quiet during the exchange, but I’d felt their stares as they kept me in their focus.
Always in their focus.
“We knew,” Hunter said as he held out another hotdog for me to take. “And you need to eat, little omega. I can feel your hunger.”
“That’s disturbing. You know that, right?” I glanced down at all the food precariously perched in my lap. “It’s actually not that easy to eat while balancing this much food. If I promise to eat, will you guys please take some of it.”
“We willholdit for you,” Slade told me as he lifted a few of the cardboard boxes off my lap. Hunter also took a few, and I could finally relax and enjoy my fully loaded hotdog, nachos, and icy cold beer. This was the freaking life.
Neither of the alphas took a single bite until I’d made it through a hotdog and nachos. Hunter tried to hand me another hotdog, but I shook my head. “One bite,” he purred close to my cheek, and I wondered if he was aware of just how many eyes were on us.
If he was, he absolutely did not care as he coaxed me to eat from his hand.
“I have nachos still,” I protested, gesturing to the third left in my disposable carton.
“One bite,” Slade murmured, his tone even deeper, the rumble more commanding. Like an absolute sap, who couldn’t refuse these alphas when they cared for my well-being, I bit into the bun.
“Good girl,” Slade said, and at the same time Hunter rasped, “There’s our good girl.”
I almost slipped off my chair as my panties took part in a slip-and-slide contest we were clearly winning.
Hunter’s nostrils flared; the gold in his eyes more pronounced. “Your scent, Emme, is going to start a war.”
“Destroy stadiums,” Slade confirmed, and I was surprised by the strain in his voice.
“Your fault,” I mumbled, and needing a distraction started shoveling the last of the nachos into my mouth like there was in an eating competition to go along with the slip-and-slide. It took a few seconds of laser-focusing on the ice again before Hunter and Slade returned to eating their own food.
The Dashers were an aggressive team, and within the first ten minutes there were multiple fights, with Christian ending upin the penalty box along with number seventy-four on the other team.
Both teams had great attempts at goal, but by the time the buzzer sounded on the first period, the score remained at zero.
“Is Finley hurt?” I asked, my food all gone now, which gave me plenty of time to nervously chew my nails and bounce my right knee. “He took a really hard hit from that Viking-looking asshole of a shifter.”
“Henderson’s a fucking pussy,” Tyson, Kellan’s brother, called from his seat. “Our boys will take him out at some point. I’m sure of it.”
