“Gonna blow the house down, Beast?” Casper Winters was called the Dominator for a reason. Sure, he was a damn good left winger, but his claim to fame was how many hot wings he could eat in one sitting. By the looks of him, a hell of a lot.
While the majority of teammates laughed, I did my best to curtail my anger.
Maybe the real reason I was in a shitty ass mood was because I’d walked in late, due to one tiny, feisty woman who’d decided to gofull arsenal on me with a water hose. I still had water in my left ear. Damn, she’d been a little fury, refusing to back down.
All sass and zero restraint.
I had to admit that I liked that in my women. Who was I kidding? I had no women other than what was depicted in the crazy pictures and videos on the internet. Bor-ring. Now I sounded like my brother.
The chick had infuriated the fuck out of me. She’d also driven me away before I’d accomplished my goal of checking out a rental house. Damn her. Damn her for her attitude and for chastising me. And damn her for… the kiss.
“What, no wolfie comeback?” the left defenseman chortled.
I’d had enough torment for the day. The moment I bristled, Tony Dominik, my current roommate and the only man on the team who hadn’t treated me like some dirty primate stepped in. “Cut the crap, assholes. We’ve all had a shitty practice, or would you like me to hunt down the video from when you crashed into the goal a couple weeks ago, Hammer boy?” He got in the left defenseman’s face, his grin practically evil.
At least David backed down, snarling when he did.
I moved around them toward my locker.
We’d had a strategy meeting after practice, but that hadn’t been enough for Coach Wagner or for the team captain, who was currently glaring at me from the far corner of the room. Trey, the Condor, Braxton was a legend. He was also hotheaded as fuck. I’d need to watch his ass.
My anger only continued to percolate, especially when the coach returned, whispering to Trey while shooting me the evil eye. Icould swear Coach Wagner wasn’t human. There was no spark behind his cold, dead eyes.
Maybe with the exception of fury.
He’d had it out for me from the day I’d walked into the practice. I’d been benched for over a week because between the team’s attorneys, the social media director, and the team owners, they’d wanted me sidelined until the fifteen new minutes of fame involving both Masters brothers had died off.
As with every other news cycle, now there was someone else on the hot seat. But that hadn’t happened without my father’s interference, his influence with broadcasters, and his knowledge of the business and his money. Plus, Saint had managed to have the damn reporter eating out of the palm of his hand, both laughing about the ridiculousness of hunting humans by the end of the segment.
Yet to date, I still hadn’t been graced with a call from my brother, which meant he thought I’d had some part in the horrific storyline. So had every puck bunny and rabid Saint Masters fan. The hate mail I’d received had been both heinous and creative. I’d even stopped getting on social media altogether because doing so put me in an even shittier mood.
Which didn’t bode well for keeping my beast in a cage.
There were some people, including my own brother, who thought I’d been willing to do what it took to derail his career to advance mine. That was as aggravating as enduring the nasty comments and accusations.
The latest sign I’d seen?
Stop Eating People.
Really?
Right now, my heart was full of hate and anger.
For everyone.
And I felt like taking out my shitty mood on anyone who dared cross my path.
I threw open my locker with enough force the clanging and echoing was met with additional laughter, a couple of guys making fun of me under their breath. I noticed the coach still staring at me and I could tell he wasn’t finished insulting me yet.
“What happened, Steve?” His tone was still harsh, accusatory in a soft-sell way. “Even for you, that was pure garbage.”
Even for me. What the hell did that mean?
“That wasn’t shit, Coach. I made a couple goals. And my passes were good.” The second the words flew from my mouth, I heard the three-year-old whine and grimaced.
The other players barely bothered trying to busy themselves, every asshole snickering under his breath.
Half the damn team was waiting and eager for me to fail.
