Page 1 of Ice Rebel

CHAPTER 1

Cole

The vibrant neon hues of the posters on all sides of the arena were difficult to miss.

The Seattle Wild’s Wolf is Hot!

Rebel Wolf—Will You Marry Me?

They were also annoying as fuck.

“You’re a celebrity, man.” Hudson Wayne, otherwise known as the Bobcat, loved teasing me. While the other members of the team weren’t immune to the notoriety, I was often the center of unwanted attention.

Just like my brothers.

Just like every other shifter who stood in the limelight of any sports team.

At least my brothers had made themselves into superstars in the hockey world. I was still struggling in the AHL, praying this would be my year.

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of getting tired of hogging the spotlight.” Tonight, I wasn’t joking. While people protesting my very existence had lessened in both numbers and the ridiculous energy put forth to do so, there would always be haters.

The lights dimmed, and the announcer came on.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please stand for the national anthem.”

As the stadium full of people quieted, I placed my hand on my heart.

“I love you, Rebel wolf!” The shrill cry came from somewhere in the darkness. Jesus. Nothing was sacred any longer. While half the audience laughed, someone different took to the ice and immediately every muscle in my body tensed.

Once she began to sing, I held my breath, everything and everyone else vanishing.

You’ve heard the expression love at first sight. Right?

Well, I’d laughed my ass off more times than I could count when I’d heard the words. Usually said with stars in the girl’s eyes. I didn’t care if said by a dude or a chick, the idea was ridiculous.

After tonight, I’d need to rethink my staunch position.

Why?

Because of the girl standing behind the microphone bathed in shimmering lights. Well, shit. Now I was mesmerized, using flowery words like those penned in my sister’s steamy stories. I had to admit the woman was beautiful, an hourglass figure made with a man in mind. Or maybe a pair of huge hands.

My hands.

“What happened to Ralph?” Darren Usher, our best goddamn left winger who’d been my ‘wingman’ since before joining the Seattle Wild whispered the comment as if being loud would interrupt her singing.

In a way, he was right. I had the desire to pay attention to her angelic voice, not his gruff tone that usually sounded as if he’d eaten marbles for breakfast.

I barely threw my buddy a glance, proudly standing tall and absorbing the music as she continued singing. While I honored the tradition every time, I was usually considering upcoming plays against the opponent rather than hanging onto every word. It wasn’t that Ralph Patch wasn’t a good singer. He was okay, called upon to perform his duties for every home game.

However, with all things being equal, who wouldn’t prefer a luscious creature to a former pop star has-been? Maybe I was being a little cruel, but Ralph had taken the job to fund his penchant for booze and cigars. It reflected in his voice.

“Dunno. Don’t care,” I snarked in return. Maybe I was overthinking my attraction or seeing things, but I could swear someone had turned on a wind machine. Her long ginger hair danced across her shoulders while she sang. She was effortless with her abilities, creating an emotion that almost brought patriotic tears to my eyes.

Nothing brought tears to my eyes. Not a single sad movie, especially from my sister’s choice of family entertainment or even when my hamster had died when I was seven.

But with this girl and how she held a high note, lifting her arm as if straight to the heavens, I could easily shed a tear or two.

Out of respect of course.