My jaw aches as he lands a punch, his knuckles cracking against my skin and sending a ripple of pain radiating through my entire face.
It hurts, but it pisses me off more.
With a growl, I yank him off balance again, my fist cracking against his cheek as he falls to the ice. He throws another blow that lands on my cheekbone, but as I cock my fist back again, someone grabs my hand.
“That’s enough,” one of the refs says, dragging me back and away from the man flat out on the ice.
Around me, the crowd is wild, and I scan the faces behind the glass until I find the one I want.
Shiloh.
He came tonight even though he’s pissed off at me. He’s in what has become his usual spot by the side of the net, but when I look at him after the fight, my stomach wobbles. His eyes are wide as saucers, his mouth dropped open slightly in shock. He blinks as he meets my eyes, his skin pale like he’s seen something utterly terrifying.
Well, shit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SHILOH
Red and white.Blood on ice.
Blood on Donovan’s face. On his full lips, across his cheekbone.
On his knuckles.
I thought he was sweet, soft… but there’s a violence in him that’s making something inside me sing. That something inside merecognizes.
And I realize if I stay standing in this stadium watching him, I’m going to do something ridiculous… like throw myself out there on the ice so I can lick the taste of copper from his tongue.
It doesn’t help that he looks at me across the distance, and the second our eyes connect, I can see that almost feral part of him staring out at me.
I’m not going to make smart decisions if I stay here.
I’m not going to make smart decisions anyway. I’d half convinced myself that the best course of action was for me to break up with him and go back to stalking him from a distance, but looking at him now…
That was never an option. I knew that, but it’s so obvious now it almost aches.
There’s neverbeenanyone for me except Donovan, and right now, as blood sluices down his cheek and he stares at me like his world is falling apart… I need to prove that to myself.
I’ve never wanted anyone like this.
I’m reluctant when I step out of the arena. I want to stay, want to watch him… want him toknowthat I’m watching him…
But the game is nearly over. I know he’ll have to deal with all the bullshit after, but I’m not sure I can corner him here and get what I want. I need time and a place where people can’t see us.
I’m going to corner him to get what I want if I don’t walk out of the building, and then everyone will know that Donovan Myers has a feral boyfriend who can’t control himself.
I make my way to his car and pull out the copy of the key he gave me—because apparently waiting out in the cold for him to be finished with a game is weird—and jump inside.
I don’t bother turning anything on, though. I sit in the darkness and welcome the chill for the first time since moving to Boston. It’s barely doing anything to quell the heat beating beneath my skin.
I’ve neverseenhim like that. Perfectly contained violence, bloody and gorgeous and fierce.
I’ve never seen Donovan act like he could stand beside me when I’m killing someone, but whatever version of him I saw there on the ice… there’s something vicious that I recognize.
I adore soft Donovan.
I want to fuck violent Donovan until I can’t walk.
