“Go home, take a nap, work out that soreness and be ready for tonight’s game. Tomorrow is a free day, but I expect you all to hit some light weights and the bikes at the gym,” he says, dismissing us.
I’m too tired to care if anyone sees my cock, and it’s clear that Rhodes is going to take advantage of me whenever possible. Again, I should be pissed off about this, yet I can’t call up the energy to care.
Showering feels both wonderful and painful as I have to move muscles that feel like deadweights. We’re all professionalsand will be ready to hit the ice tonight, we just may all hate our lives a little more than usual.
I’m half asleep as I drag on my clothing, and the anxiety I usually feel in the locker room lessens to almost nothing. I’m simply too tired to give a shit about being naked in front of Rhodes and Skylar.
The drive is a fast one now that I live closer to the practice rink, and I force my feet to move to the front door. Fuck, I don’t have a key. Do I just ring the doorbell? Rhodes opens the door before I can get too into my head about it and I grunt out a response.
His grin tells me that he’s not sure if what I said was a thank you or if I told him to fuck off. Frankly, I’m not sure either at this point.
I whimper at the sight of the stairs as I walk toward them, and Rhodes takes pity on me. Chasing after me, he lifts me up to begin walking up the stairs.
“How are you not dead?” I groan, burying my face in his throat. I still can’t smell him, but his skin is warm and feels good.
“Thick thighs save lives and biscuits from crowding my goddamned crease,” he says, chuckling deeply. “Stop smelling me, weirdo. You know you won’t be able to. Stop altering your body with that fucking cream.”
“I can’t. I’m better able to focus if I’m not bombarded by alpha scents,” I mumble.
“Excuses,” Rhodes mutters, walking me into a room.
“This isn’t my room,” I complain as I’m launched into a bed. “I don’t even have a suit for tonight.”
“Edna is making sure you have what you need tonight. Go to sleep,” he says, pulling off his sweatpants and hoodie to crawl into the bed. “You’re in your alphas’ bed.”
“Not mine,” I mumble, cuddling the nearest pillow as I bury my head into it.
The weight of a heavy thigh anchors my thighs to the bed, and I’m glad I went to the bathroom earlier at the rink. There’s no way I’m getting to again.
Skylar enters the room next, but I’m already drifting off into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER TEN
SKYLAR
It doesn’t escape my notice how much sharper Koen is as he skates tonight. His blades dig into the ice as he flies across the rink, and I’m on his ass to check and push back anyone trying to come for him.
It works great until the second period, when I’m slammed into the boards.
“Maybe you should stop riding Jeffries’ dick so hard,” the New Orleans Saint snarls in my face.
“Or what?” I ask with a smirk, pushing him back. Our sticks hit the ground as we kick at each other, and our gloves go flying. “Who’s dick I’m chasing doesn’t have anything to do with the game, Carrington. It’s not my fault you’re in the closet.”
Goddamn, I don’t understand why everyone is involved in my sex life. Shoo-fly, before I kick your ass.
“Fuck you,” he growls, throwing punches. I laugh as I hit him back, and I roll my eyes as the fight is broken up.
Skating lazily toward the Sin Bin, I salute my omega as I climb in. His brows knit together as he gazes at me, trying to figure out what’s going on.
You and me both, baby boy. Someone is trying to be a problem, and I’ll gladly put them down.
The second I’m out of the penalty box, I rejoin the players on the ice. I’m being hit hard, but my teammates have figured out that I’m the target tonight because I’m protecting Koen. He’s been on fire this game, and we’re four points up.
If we keep this up, the Saints will be crying crocodile tears with their loss. It serves them right for fucking with us.
Koen twirls in a circle to evade an oncoming player coming to shove him, and passes the puck to me. I in turn send it to Olsson, yelling as I shove back one of the Saints. Man, it’s like the devil is on my ass instead of a saint, and I begin to call them that as I chirp loudly.
I want these assholes as off balance as possible.
