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“Here’s to the Sabertooths!” someone yells.
“Fuck that. Mickey’s the hero of tonight’s game,” another shouts, and glasses lift in unison, a small galaxy of stars toasting to the triumph we all felt earlier in the arena.
They’re not wrong, watching Mickey tonight as the Sabertooths went head-to-head with the Jags was really something. He was like… a god amongst mortals. Ugh, there’s no denying how much I loved seeing him like that on the ice. It was like foreplay.
Another thing I loved was putting Simone in her place. I don’t need to know her to know I have nothing but contempt for her. She’s a predator, expecting the world to be her playground and accommodate her. I hadn’t planned on meddling when she approached Mickey, but… I couldn’t just stand by and watch. She’s why he’s treating me like shit. And while I won’t excuse his behavior, I now know the reason for it.
The beat pulses like a second heartbeat, throbbing through the floor and into my bones. The lights of Magnitude swirl, a kaleidoscope of color bleeding into the shadows where the VIP section huddles. I lean back against the plush leather of the booth, the bottle in my hand slick with condensation.
“Is this your first time at Magnitude?” Soren’s voice cuts through the cacophony, his grin as sharp as the edge of a skate blade. He lounges with an ease that speaks of many nights spent exactly like this one—victorious and venerated.
“Is it that obvious?” I shout back over the music, quirking an eyebrow.
Mickey, never straying far, leans in from the other side, the scent of his cologne mingling with the adrenaline still clinging to him from the game. “You’ve got that wide-eyed look,” he teases, nudging my shoulder with his own. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you.”
“Like you took care of the opposition tonight?” I retort, a playful spark igniting within me. Their laughter is a rich sound, confident and contagious.
“Exactly like that,” Soren says with a wink, clinking his bottle against mine. “To the victors go the spoils.”
Mickey licks his lips. “And I owe you for slapping Simone.”
“That,” I say, locking eyes with him, “was my pleasure.”
Before either of us can say anything else, Luce appears out of nowhere, grabbing my hand. “Come on,” she laughs, her energy a force all its own as she pulls me toward the dance floor. “We can’t let these boys have all the fun.”
With a glance back at Soren and Mickey, who raise their bottles in a silent salute, I follow Luce into the fray. Our bodies move to the rhythm, and I lose myself in the music, in the ebb and flow of the crowd. Lucia is a wildfire, her movements uninhibited and fierce.
We dance for several songs, and I’m just about to cry for mercy when Soren joins us, his presence magnetic as he slides between us. “Mind if I cut in?” he asks, though it’s clear he doesn’t expect to be denied.
Luce laughs, the sound bright and full of mischief. “Try not to break her,” she tosses over her shoulder, her eyes seeking Sawyer in the sea of faces.
Soren’s hands find my hips, guiding me with a gentle pressure that belies the strength in his grip. We dance, our moves shadowing each other, a push and pull that mimics the chase of the game. The warmth of his body seeps into mine, chasing away the last remnants of chill from the ice arena.
“Are you feeling it now?” he murmurs close to my ear, his breath hot against my skin.
“Feeling what?” I manage to ask, my thoughts scattering as a delicious shiver runs down my spine.
“That.” His smile is a flash in the dimness, confident and knowing. Before pulling away, he licks the length of my neck, blowing air onto the wet patch he’s created.
Goosebumps erupt across my skin, and I’m acutely aware of how labored my breathing has become. “Soren.” I mean to sound stern, but his name comes out as a whimper.
His eyes darken, his lips pulling up at the corner in a knowing smirk. “Yes?”
Closing my eyes, I shake my head, using the small moment to mentally steady myself. “Stop playing with me,” I whisper.
As I reopen my eyes, he’s closer than before, having moved while I wasn’t looking. His grip tightens on my waist. His eyes trail the movement of my tongue as I wet my lips, and I feel so lost in him I move closer. “Who says I’m playing?” he rasps. “But if I were, it would be for keeps. I never play for less.”
There’s something infused into his words, something I can’t decipher, but it still makes me feel… possessed and treasured.
Then, before I can really process what we’re doing, he closes the small distance between us. He fuses his lips to mine, kissing me softly. I sigh in contentment, and the moment my lips part, his tongue slides into my mouth. My hands fist in his suit jacket, pushing him closer as I moan into his mouth.
“Soren.”
He growls in answer, his hips grinding against me, sending an electric current through my entire body.
“Mind if I join you?” Mickey’s voice teases from behind, his hands landing lightly on my shoulders before slipping to my front, cupping my slightly protruding stomach. There’s a moment of adjustment, a new balance found as Soren strokes my tongue one last time before pulling back, keeping his hands on my hips in a bruising hold.
“Couldn’t have waited another minute or two, dickhead?” he sneers at Mickey, who just laughs.
