The look she gave me could drill a man through the ice into a glacier layer below. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll race you to the other side of the ice. The first one to get there wins.”
Her nose wrinkled and the way she looked at me was with utter disbelief. “You think you’ve learned enough about not falling on your ass?”
“Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s worth a try.”
“And what are we playing for? I don’t do something like this for nothing, you know.”
I risked the lie by moving closer to her. “What do you want?”
“If I win then you’ll take me on the Zamboni for a ride one day.”
“Wow. That’s all you want?”
“You couldn’t handle the rest.”
Did she have any idea my cock was already rock hard? While she wasn’t looking, that didn’t mean she hadn’t been given a bird’s-eye view of the huge bulge. What drove me crazy was that she appeared to have no idea I could be a hockey player. Not only was I allowed to let my hair down for the first time around a woman since I was maybe seventeen years old, but I enjoyed being anonymous.
A nobody that maybe she could like.
“Another challenge.” The heat of her body kept the fire burning deep within every muscle. And her scent. Sweet Jesus, her scent was driving me fucking insane. I couldn’t tell if the wild effect was based on a combination of maybe her shower gel or hair products and whatever perfume she was wearing.
Whatever the case, my balls were aching.
“Tell you what. I’ll go easy on you tonight. A Zamboni ride it is. What do you want?” She allowed herself to be more mischievous, her eyes twinkling as she skated around me in a complete circle once again.
“I want a full date. Dinner and drinks.”
Her laugh floated not only between us, but all the way toward the ceiling. “Well, you’re at a complete disadvantage since you’ve never skated before.”
“Then you’ll need to go easy on me. Won’t you?”
Another pouting look only garnered me a roll of her eyes. “I only play fair and that’s not fair. So it’s either my way or we won’t do this.”
“Then by all means. Play fair. Don’t go easy on me. I can handle more heat than you believe I can.” I threw out my hand for another shake on the challenge.
She dared drag the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, which came so close to drawing the beast from his cage I was shocked. The shake did nothing but push me into an electrical short that left me breathless and aching all over.
Which was exactly what she intended.
“Alright then,” she cooed. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
She was so certain she’d win she didn’t bother getting into a runner’s position. But she did give me an evil, albeit sensual look that sent another fire of need through every muscle and synapse. While this was all about having fun, the primal instinct that had been born into the beast cracked the surface, shoving aside all sense of moral compass.
Shifters had been taught at an early age how to mask our attributes that could blow any human out of the water. Blending in was security. Blending in meant living a fairly normal life. Blending in meant hiding in the open and away from the prying eyes of monstrous humans unable to tolerate anything or anyone different.
But right now, none of that mattered and why?
Because winning meant being able to choose the mate we preferred. Call it theHunger Gameson steroids. The event had been created two generations before, more as a way of keeping our young alpha shifters out of harm’s way.
Crime had a sensual draw, gangs providing another type of pack while also providing easy prey. Hunts were different, butthe outcomes were always the same, almost all disguised as representations of the worst in men.
But the games allowed for winners and success.
And women.
Mates.
