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“That aside,” Creed clears his throat as he shoves through the main doors that lead to the arena. “Do we need to be worried about you with this chick?” The chatter that was happening moments ago quiets as we make our way deeper into the room. The main entrance to the common room is glass walls and diamond chandeliers. It’s the area students are allowed to be in if they don’t want to be outside, or in their sanctions of magic. There’s a grand piano tucked away in the corner that plays continuous classical music, and I wonder every now and then what that would look like in Stygian. Pretty sure it’d be replaced with an electric guitar. This place is fucking biased toward the Argents. So much for balance.
We shove through the exit doors and follow down the stone path to the locker rooms, but before we step inside, I meet my oldest brother's blue gaze.
“You don’t have to worry about anything. I told you it’s just something that’s keeping me entertained. No different to the bullshit I play with Alex.”
I knew that was a lie and that Creed would pick up on it , but I said it anyway.
The mirrored doors part, and we both step inside. “Whatever you say.”
The elevator creeps down and down and I watch as the numbers slowly drop until we’re a few dozen feet underground, my mind running right back to its newest obsession. I hate that I can’t get her out of my head. Especially after last night when all I wanted to do was tear her apart. Maybe I’ll visit her again tonight.
…or maybe I’ll just keep playing with her.
Creed elbows me and I blink, realizing the doors have opened and half of the team is staring at me standing stone-still in the center of the square. Fuck them.
I lift my chin and move toward our side of the lockers. Yes, the Deverauxs have their own section.
Guess the school heard about the bullshit some low-level punks tried to pull on us back in Rathe. It was Creed's senior year of high school and of the six dudes on the ice come the drop of the puck on game day, we made up four of them. Being gifted, we have no real reason to rotate players. We don’t get tired and fighting is allowed back home.
Some guys didn’t like a team of royals and decided to put a silver scale in Creed’s locker, knowing the poisons it carries—there's a reason the silver snake is forbidden outside the castles of Rathe.
Unfortunately, for them, Creed’s got senses that rival both the Lycans and the Vamps combined. He didn’t know who put the scale in his shit, so he multiplied it and every single player on the team outside the four of us were stone stiff before the coach even set foot in the room.
The coach reamed our asses, the school attempted to scold us, and our parents were pissed we didn’t deliver a fatal blow. Not that a silver scale can’t be fatal. It can, but still. It wasn’t enough retribution for the leaders of the Stygians.
Gotta love the king and queen of dark magic.
Legend and Sin are already here, half suited up, so Creed and I make quick work of getting changed.
“Zeke already headed out, got him some new blades.” Sinner grins my way. “Boy went with a bigger bite.”
“His bite’s as threatening as a toothless Vamp,” I joke even though the bite he’s referring to has nothing to do with his mouth and everything to do with his skate.
A bigger bite means he’s giving up some of his glide for a better grip so he can pick up speed quicker.
Legend scoffs. “So he thinks a deeper hollow is gonna, what, somehow hold his own against us?”
Creed tosses his shit in the locker, shaking his head. “He’s already on the ice more than the others. He needs to watch himself or he’ll have a gang of teammates after his ass,” he mumbles.
Nodding, we finish up and hit the ice, running some small warm up drills before we work on defense based on the next team we’re playing. Again, waste of fucking time when they’re human.
No sooner than I’m skidding to a stop, is someone bumping into me from behind.
Whipping around, I come face to face with Zeke.
I tear my helmet off and let it fall to the ice with a harsh thwack.
Zeke rolls back with a smirk and his palms up. “My bad. Wasn’t watching where I was going.” The corner of his mouth hooks up and he shifts, skating past me.
I let him get four feet, far enough for him to think I let it slide, before I pounce, shooting forward and throwing a skate out. He is fucking gifted, so of course he hops over it in the last second … but that’s exactly what I wanted.
