My balance shatters.
My left foot kicks out from under me, my right ankle overcorrects, and suddenly I am not flying. I am falling. Hurtling forward with all the momentum of a full sprint and none of the control to stop it. The boards are rushing toward me, a wall of plexiglass and metal that is going to make impact in approximately one second.
Multiple people curse behind me. Gasps erupt from the stands. I hear Sage scream my name. Cal's voice, sharp and panicked. Etienne shouting in French.
And Rafe.
"FUCK! Mae!"
His voice is raw. Stripped of every layer of arrogance and mockery and cruelty, reduced to pure, instinctive fear for someone he claims not to care about.
I close my eyes.
I brace for the boards. For the impact that is going to hurt, badly, that is going to bruise and possibly fracture and definitely leave me regretting every decision that led to this moment.
But the boards never come.
Instead, I crash into a body.
The collision arrives with a screech of skates against ice so sharp it reverberates through the entire arena. Someone has thrown themselves between me and the wall, planting their blades and bracing for impact with a solidity that absorbs my full-speed momentum like a human wall.
"Oomph."
The grunt vibrates against me as I slam into a chest that is broad and firm and covered in a jersey I do not recognize. Arms wrap around me instantly, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away, cushioning the residual impact with a strength that keeps both of us upright despite the force that should have sent us both crashing.
I am in shock.
My heart is hammering so hard it feels like it might shatter my ribcage. My hands are gripping fabric I did not consciously reach for. My legs are trembling from the adrenaline dump that is flooding every cell in my body with the chemical aftermath of almost dying.
And then the scent hits me.
It does not arrive gently.
It crashes into me like a freight train, slamming through every defense I have, bypassing my conscious mind entirely and detonating in the most primal, instinctive part of my brain.
Vanilla ice cream.
Rich, creamy, decadent vanilla blended with a masculine musk that is warm and dark and intoxicating. Underneath that, layers I cannot fully separate. Sandalwood, maybe. Aged leather, but softer than Rafe's. The clean bite of cold air after a winter storm. All of it woven together into an aroma that makes my entire body react in ways I have never experienced.
My skin tingles.
Not just where his arms are touching me. Everywhere. From my scalp to the soles of my feet, every nerve ending wakes up simultaneously, standing at attention with an urgency that borders on painful. Heat floods my belly, my knees weaken, and a longing so intense it feels like grief blooms in my chest.
What is this? What is happening? Why does this scent feel like being wrapped in the coziest pajama set ever created and falling asleep in a bed made of clouds? Why do I want to curl into this stranger's arms and never move again? Why does every cell in my body feel like it has been waiting for this exact aroma my entire life?
My head whips up.
The eyes that meet mine are stormy gray.
Familiar.
Achingly, impossibly familiar.
The same shade as Rafe's. The same depth, the same intensity, the same mercurial quality that shifts between silver and steel depending on the light. But these eyes are different. Older. More lived-in. Carrying a weight behind them that speaks to years of experience that Rafe has not yet accumulated.
I take in the details with the frantic speed of a brain trying to process too much information at once.
Dark red hair. Not ginger like Archie's but a deep, rich auburn that catches the arena lights and reveals hidden streaks of dark blonde woven through the strands. It falls across his forehead in a way that mirrors Rafe's hairstyle but with a slight curl that softens the edges.
