Page 21 of Wynter

But is she right? Is it cheating? If Wynter was human, hell yeah. But you don’t spend years playing on a supe team to not think outside the box.

Apparently, Wynter doesn’t need years of hockey for outside the box thinking. Because one second I’m flying through open air, and the next I’m being pummeled with snowballs.

They come out of nowhere. Hit me in the face. Slam into my wings.

If we were mid-game, I’d be prepared. But on a date—and this is most definitely a date—I’m not.

I’m too busy gloating like the asshole I am. And the snowballs knock me out of the sky and send me plummeting toward the ice.

Wynter lets out a scream.

I’m about to end up with a concussion that rivals all concussions in the history of ice hockey. Because spelled jersey or not, crashing into the ice head-first can’t possibly end well.

So I do the first thing I can think of. Shift. Into Wilson. Yeah, that Wilson. Yellow. Fuzzy. Likes to buzz.

I shift into him a lot. So I have epic bee control. Plus, bees are small. And on the ice, sometimes small is good. Especially when you’re about to crash.

Small increases the relative distance to the ice. Which gives me extra time to slow down.

I land softly and roll onto my back. Then I shift. And close my eyes. Take that, Wynter.

“Leith,” she cries, and that one panicked shout stings my heart.

“I’m fine. Not even hurt.” I sit up. And my heart warms. Because she’s worried. About me.

“Are you sure?” Wynter stares down at me, her face laced with concern.

“Positive.” I extend my hand. “Help me up?”

She takes it, and I pull her down. On to my chest. Then quickly flip us over so I’m on top of her. Which is right where I want her.

Except I can’t kiss my girl. Not yet. Not unless I want to take her right here on the ice. I want to fuck her senseless. Make her come over and over again. Make her mine. But not just mine for tonight. And I promised myself I’d take it slow.

Wynter doesn’t make it easy. Her breath comes out in pants. Her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes gaze up into mine. And she bites her lower lip.

Fuck, I can’t stand it. And suddenly, just like that, I shift back into a bee.

“Leith?” She sits up in surprise.

I land a few inches away, shift back, and pull her to her feet. I hold onto her hand and take us across the rink, so we’re skating in circles. The way I’ve seen couples do on Saturday night.

“You know all about me, so—”

“Hey, I wouldn’t say all,” Wynter interrupts.

“I would. And there isn’t that much to know. Grew up in Maple Ridge. Played hockey all my life. Got traded to the Blades. End of story.” I shake my head. “It sounds kind of sad when I put it like that, doesn’t it?”

“Not really.” Zoe smiles up at me. And then she bites her lower lip again. Fuck. Because that’s all it takes for me to shift. “I actually kind of like how it sounds. Simple. Happy.”

I can’t say I’m not surprised. Not just by her words, but the fact that she doesn’t seem the least bit thrown by the fact that I’m in falcon form. She just talked to me like… well… like I’m still me.

“That’s what I want from life, you know?” she tells me. “For it to be simple. And happy. That’s why I moved to Silver Springs.”

I’m still a bird, flapping my wings next to her. She keeps talking, so I decide not to shift back. Not if it means I get to find out more about her.

“I used to work for… a supe organization. I’m not allowed to talk about it…” She pauses, searching for words. “It’s not even supposed to exist, as far as most supes are concerned.”

I still don’t say anything. Bird, beak, and all that. Wynter doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, I think it puts her at ease. Lets her talk.