I can’t meet his eyes. “Just needed some space to think.” My voice sounds wrong, hoarse and thin.
“Dude, everyone’s already over it. Peter is drunk off Mountain Dew and vodka. I’m sure he doesn’t remember.” Kyle chuckles softly, like he’s trying to break through my tension.
I don’t. The laugh slides right past me, swallowed by the noise in my head.
He looks me over—really looks—and his brow furrows. “Al, you’re pale. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I try to step past him, but his hand comes out automatically, fingers brushing my forearm. It’s a light touch, but my body jolts like he’s pressed a live wire to my skin. He notices; his hand withdraws a fraction.
“You’re shaking,” he says softly.
“I said I’m fine.” My words come out sharper than I intend. He doesn’t flinch.
Kyle takes a half-step closer, lowering his voice. “Hey. Look at me. You don’t have to keep everything bottled up, alright? You can tell me.” His thumb grazes the inside of my wrist, just once, before he lets go. It’s such a small touch but it feels intimate, like something more than teammates.
I relax slightly. His presence has always grounded me, but right now I feel like I’m teetering on the brink of madness.
His cheeks flush faintly, but he covers it with a crooked smile. “I gotta pack of cards downstairs. Why don’t we play a game? I’ll buy you those shitty sour candies that you like.”
I blink at him, trying to read his tone. “They’re not shitty.”
He snorts. “I don’t understand how you eat those. I feel like they’re gonna burn my tongue off.”
I laugh through my nose. Before I can answer, a voice cuts through the air like a blade.
“Oh, hey, Thorn.” His voice claws down my spine.
Magnus.
He walks up to us calm, cool, collected. Like he just didn’t make a mess of me on the conference room floor. The scent of him hits me before I even look up—faint whiskey, sweat, a trace of his cologne. My stomach flips.
Kyle notices my sudden shift. He takes a subtle step, putting his body between Magnus and me.
“Flint,” Kyle says flatly.
Magnus’s smirk sharpens as he takes in the scene. He’s still damp from our rendezvous, curls sticking to his forehead, lips faintly swollen. His blue eyes flick to Kyle’s hand near my arm and then back up, narrowing slightly. “Relax. I was just apologizing to Hale for distracting him on the ice,” he says lightly, but his tone has an edge. “Wasn’t anything serious, just wanted to knock him off his game.”
He licks his lips, slow, deliberate, and I know he’s still tasting me on his mouth. “Is all forgiven, Prince?”
The nickname hits me low in the gut. I stuff my hands in my pockets to hide the apparent blood rush to my crotch. “I gotta take a call.” My voice is paper-thin.
“Al—” Kyle starts, but I’m already moving.
Behind me, I hear Kyle’s voice harden. “Cut the crap, Flint. You’re toying with him.”
Magnus laughs, low and dangerous. “Toying? Please. We’re rivals. A little mental game never hurt anyone.”
“You’re not just playing head games on the ice.” Kyle’s voice drops lower, more controlled. “You know he’s—” He cuts himself off, but the implication hangs between them. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Do I?” Magnus’s tone turns sharp, territorial. “And what is it you think I’m doing, Thorn?”
“I think you’re sniffing around him because you know he’s vulnerable. Because you know he won’t bite back. Because you like breaking things.” Kyle’s fists clench at his sides. “You’re not gonna break him.”
For a moment, there’s silence, and I can almost feel Magnus’s grin turn predatory even without looking back.
“Break him?” Magnus echoes. “No, Thorn. I take very good care of mytoys.”
Kyle steps in closer, squaring up. “Stay away from him.”
