“I just can’t imagine anything coming out of a cock can taste good,” Solace says like he’s really considering this from a deeper level.
“I think it coming out of a dick makes it better. Maybe you just haven’t seen a dick as hot as Archangel’s,” I say with total seriousness.
He slaps my shoulder, side-eyeing me.
I know what he’s thinking, but he won’t say it in front of the team.
“Baby, I’m going to get down on my knee.”
“I heard the singular knee there.”
I sip my can and wink.
“You two getting married already?” Lovelace asks, looking between us.
“Fucking stop. He’s not proposing.” But Archangel gives himself away with a smile.
“Are you sure?” I bend down to re-lace my skates.
“Fuck off.”
I stand up and take in a breath. “We’re not fucking losing this game. We have twenty minutes left of the season. I need all of you to find everything you have left and leave it on the ice. Weneed a fucking goal. I will take care of my side; I need you all to do yours. Mark isn’t a better goalie than I am, and you have all scored on me in practice. We are better than this team. They completely rely on Ktytor, which is a huge weakness.” Seaborn snickers, and I turn to him. “Am I wrong?”
“You’re not wrong,” Seaborn says.
“I know I’m not. See, even his boyfriend knows. Seaborn will handle Ktytor—the rest of you find the back of fucking net.”
“Keep moving Mark. He gets worse the more out of his stance he is. And hammer in those slap shots. He’s shit at reading the blade when they are that quick, like we talked about,” Coach Hawke slips in when I finish. “Even if you’re sacrificing some power with a quick shot, as long as the placement is good, that’s how you get past him.”
“Remember, he’s great with corners. Put the puck 12-14 inches off the ice,” I add to remind the guys they don’t need a perfect corner. They need to be hitting him where he’s weakest.
Everyone is slow back on the ice. The same intensity isn’t there. But it’s both teams, so I’m not worried yet.
I shouldn’t even have thought it because the Monsters steal the puck, and Ktytor gets out on Seaborn on a breakaway.
Fuck.
I come out to challenge, needing Seaborn to fucking catch up, so I don’t have to take a wide-open shot.
Archangel cuts over to help out, hopefully giving Seaborn time to grab his wing. I backup getting into position, but Archangel knocks the puck free, and it slides around the back. I move to center on the other player Seaborn is covering, while Archangel and Ktytor fight for the puck. Archangel gets possession and takes it wide to pass it up, but Ktytor slams him into the boards, stealing the puck.
That one hurt. I can already tell by the flex of Archangel’s jaw.
Ktytor spins with the puck and takes off toward me, Archangel on his heels. Seaborn stays on the other player who's closer to the goal for now, and Ktytor comes right at me. They’re all converging, and Archangel is keeping up with him, but Ktytor is excellent at getting a shot off while covered. He pulls back and snaps a quick shot.
The puck is skidding low, but I know where he likes to shoot and block it almost without thought.
I growl out a roar, grinning as I look right at him. Archangel laughs, and Ktytor is pissed. This game is about to get a whole lot worse.
FORTY-SIX
ARCHANGEL
Two minutes left, and it’s still 0-0. Everyone is exhausted on both teams. It’s been a physical game, but after Wolfe’s last save, it’s turned violent. I’m shocked a fight hasn’t broken out.
Seaborn is mostly handling Ktytor, but I am on the lookout to duck in if he needs it. So when Ktytor steals the puck again, trying for another breakaway, I rush him, sending the puck sliding down the wall toward the curve.
Wolfe comes out of the goal to retrieve the puck, while Ktytor puts on a burst of speed trying to beat him there. I drop to cover the goal. Not sure what I’ll do if Ktytor gets it.
