Page 429 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"I like you. Love you, in fact." I reach down and run my fingers through his hair, and he leans into it, eyes falling half-shut. "Scary is just a bonus."

He finishes the laces in silence, but his ears have gone red, and I count that as a total victory over his still all-the-way-deep-in-the-core-of-the-earth self-esteem. At least where his appearance is concerned.

He's probably always going to feel that way, too. At least sometimes.

But he's finally starting to believe he's perfect to me, even if he thinks I'm crazy, and a win's a win.

He finishes my skates and laces his own in a matter of seconds, not bothering to be careful at all, then he stands and steps out onto the ice.

My mouth falls open.

I've seen him skate, obviously. But Wraith skating during a game and skating for the love of it aren't the same. Even playing, he's aloof and guarded.

On the ice, when it's just us, all of that disappears.

He glides backward away from me, effortless, his weight rolling through his hips, his arms loose at his sides. The aurora lights the lake in bluer shades now, illuminating my mate from above as he carves a long lazy curve across the ice, and for the first time I understand what Thane meant when he said hockey is Wraith's therapy.

This is where he was made.

Not in the basement.

Here, on the ice in the dark mountains.

"You're showing off," I call, grinning.

He stops on a spray of ice shavings, dead center of the lake, framed by black mountains and a sky on fire with blue light, and holds both hands out to me.

Come here.

"I'm going to die."

Come here, he signs again.

I can hear his huffing from here.

He's laughing at me.

I stand. My ankles immediately roll in opposite directions and I windmill my arms and very nearly sit right back down on the rock.

"Oh my gods. Oh my gods⁠—"

He's there in a flash, somehow, already steadying me, and I grab fistfuls of his shirt and hold on for dear life.

"Does being the mate of a pack of hockey alphas come with really good insurance that covers total ankle replacement?" I croak.

He scoops me up.

Easily.

One arm under my knees and one behind my back, and I shriek and then laugh so hard I can't breathe, clinging to his neck as he skates out onto the lake with me clutched to his chest.

"Put me down! No, wait, don't. Don't put me down. I take it back."

He sets me down in the middle of the lake anyway, right in the heart of the aurora's reflection, but he keeps his hands on my waist. His hands are so big they nearly meet around me.

Skates parallel, he signs quickly, then puts his hands back. Bend your knees. Little bit. I'll hold you.

"Don't let go."