And again.
And again.
The statement about not knowing my own strength was a fucking lie. I knew it well, completely cognizant I could bench-press more than twice a normal human. I could also put my fist through brick walls and my fastball had been clocked at two hundred and nine miles per hour, which was the single reason I’d stopped playing baseball.
And running? Well, forget about it.
Try a two-minute mile, easy-peasy.
That’s why the entire frame of the door was bent as if it were simple plastic and the locker itself had holes when I was finished.
My display of rage was captured by someone’s camera. I felt it. I noticed the flash. I snarled when I turned, flashing my canines without thinking.
While six of the team members stood in the doorway.
Was I close to shifting into my wolf? Well, the stories on social media would likely say fur had already sprouted on my arms and the back of my neck. But of course, that was just another complete fabrication.
I was a control freak and hadn’t shifted for over a year. Not even for fun like other shifters did when stressed and needing an outlet. Back home in Chicago, there were specifically designedparks designated for shifter hunting experiences. Sadly, various cities had ruled against allowing such parks to be built.
So what was a growing boy to do in times like this when both sex and violence were off the table?
Huffing, I glared at my teammates, offering them one additional salacious photograph they could add to their collection before grabbing my jacket.
I hadn’t arrived in Tampa to make friends. I’d never consider this place my home. There was nothing other than hockey to keep me here.
Storming through the building, I almost made it to the exit when I heard a familiar noise. I chuckled as I headed toward it and the ice, standing only a few feet away. As a kid, I’d been so drawn to the ice my parents had barely managed to take me home. Even as young as three, I remembered fighting to take a ride on the Zamboni machine.
How many times had the goofy kid done so over the years, even learning how to operate one?
I leaned over the railing, studying the way the driver maneuvered the boxy vehicle that reminded me of a beautiful beetle. In my mind, Danny Wright was an artist, using the machine to paint a new glistening surface of ice. The machine hummed a low and steady tune and as it passed, a shimmering, wet sheen stood in its wake. Beautiful and fresh, inviting in a way that few other things were.
Since I’d arrived in town, I’d usually found myself standing in this same position, watching him work while being completely mesmerized. That’s why when he passed ever so slowly, hewaved. He was just finishing up, today’s work completed in record time.
And for some reason, I was a more than a little sad the machine wouldn’t keep me company for a little while longer.
As he drove away, I hung my head. While I didn’t come from a huge immediate family, within the world of shifters, our packs were also our families. There was no one from my pack located within hundreds of miles.
No parks.
No recreational areas designed for shifters to blow off some steam.
Hell, even the gyms sported hundreds of beautiful people, but none of them withCanis lupusin their bloodlines. Well, fuck me. There I went feeling sorry for myself again. My mother would look me in the eye for a full thirty seconds to ensure she had my attention before launching into me that I had no reason on God’s green earth to feel sorry for myself.
She would then remind me that she brought me into this world and she could take me out. Shifter parents and their pups presented an entirely different dynamic than humans and their offspring.
It wasn’t that wolves and cubs weren’t close. When pups were mere balls of fluff, wolves were completely devoted to them. However, after one or two years, the closeness began to wane on both sides.
Alpha wolves were always eager to create their own packs, often traveling hundreds of miles to do so. With the addition of human characteristics, there’d been some family socializationcharacteristics and habits that ensured the family bond through generations. However, that didn’t mean the mother wolf wouldn’t eat her young for breakfast should she believe them to be harmful to the pack in any way.
I laughed softly at the memory of her last chastising words just as I heard music coming from the auditorium speakers. What the hell? Another sound caught my attention barely a minute later, the whooshing unmistakable.
Someone was skating on the ice.
But the sound was different and one I hadn’t heard in a long time. I scanned the arena floor, finding the source within seconds with my keen eyesight. A figure skater. Interesting. I didn’t know there was open practice for anyone other than the hockey team.
The music selected was melodic, the chorus haunting. I found myself mesmerized by her spins and jumps. While I could tell her skills were slightly rusty given her frustrated reaction to several jumps, in my mind she was incredible, her routine mesmerizing. With her long dark hair in a ponytail, her gorgeous face and heart-shaped lips were easy to see. Seeing her wearing only mismatching leotards, my filthy mind rushed to far too many sinful locations to be wrapped around a stranger.
Why hadn’t I seen her before?
