Chapter One
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.
“She is hot,” Darren agreed.
Why did his comment, which was true, create such need to punch him in the face? It wasn’t like I even knew the girl’s name. While announced, I hadn’t paid any attention.
“Yeah. She is.” Just the way she swayed her hips indulged me with one too many sinful ideas. What would it be like to have her hips moving underneath me just like that while I had my dick shoved deep into her tight pussy?
I’d been hanging out with the degenerates of the house for far too long. Their bad behavior had rubbed off on me. Grinning, I almost laughed since I couldn’t kid a kidder. I craved the attention, being spoiled by sexy girls. Who wouldn’t?
I don’t know. I’d give up my nefarious ways for one date with the angel.
“Are you crying?” Hudson snorted. The defenseman flanked my other side, moving out of formation long enough to stare me straight in the face.
“Fuck you.” Well, damn, my deep baritone had carried far enough the coach glared at me. I’d hear about it later. Blasphemy. The couple of times Ralph hadn’t been able to make it and piped-in music had been used, we’d lost the game.
The coach called it a curse.
Others had said it had been divine intervention.
I winced seeing his fury, mouthing ‘sorry’ as I did.
Hudson chuckled and I knew the fucker would hold the moment over my head. That was our relationship, beating each other up for stupid shit. That’s what happened when you lived in a house with a bunch of guys. Everything was fair game.
After giving him a dirty look, I returned my full attention to the singer. Her hand was even fisted, her back arched as she performed the final notes. Talk about inspiration, or as I liked to call it—sinspiration.
I couldn’t play hockey without it. A picture of hot girl wearing next to nothing. Crimson lips staining a napkin accompanying a phone number. A social media post touting my undeniable talent.
Or my personal favorite, time spent being myself.
In my case that meant allowing my wolf to come out to play, which hadn’t occurred in a long time. I’d been too damn busy making a name for myself with the Wild.
But tonight, not a single puck bunny was offering her hot bod on a silver platter. Maybe I was losing my touch. Maybe the truth was that the crazy parties, the girls, the booze, and the continued rush of testosterone no longer held the same appeal as before.
Whatever the case, I had a feeling we’d rock the game.
As soon as the girl whispered the last note, the packed stadium went wild. Seattle took their hockey games seriously, especially when there was homegrown talent involved.
The light enshrouding her luscious form quickly faded and so did my smile. For whatever reason, I tried to find out the direction she’d gone after leaving the ice. I hadn’t realized I’d taken steps toward her until the rookie goalie, a true Italian pain in the ass, grabbed my arm.
“What in the fuck are you doing?”
His heavy Brooklyn accent had gotten on my nerves from day one, but tonight’s attitude had my mind plotting the next practical house joke. I had full intentions of ensuring he was the next victim.
Well, maybe he had a point stopping me since I’d ventured out about five feet or more. At least I found her just as she stepped off the ice. “Hey.” Even over the din of the large crowd, my voice managed to carry straight to her.
She stopped long enough to twist her body, turning her face in my direction. At that moment, the sun collided with a meteor, sending a display of the most incredible shooting stars my way.
All from her beautiful smile.
Holy shit. My body was shaking. There were a dozen, maybe more things I wanted to say to her. As if she’d hear me and as if she’d care.
At that moment, she did the unthinkable, something that would haunt me until the end of days.
She blew me a kiss.
Wow. Just freaking wow.
Talk about love at first sight. I was being dragged by a heavy anchor into the pits of mind-boggling need.
“Kendrick,” Coach Stryker yelled. “Get over here. We have a game to play, or did you forget?”
Sheepishly, I shifted toward him, acknowledging with a salute. Forgetting I had a game would be considered a mortal sin, but I needed one last look at my good luck charm.
Damn it. The girl had disappeared.
I skated backward, scanning the area, but there was no sign of her.
Let’s hope my angel continued shining down brightly. We needed a win.
The San Diego Blackhawks were tough. I’d give them that. They’d come to play and had almost whipped our asses on the ice.
However, we’d held our own even though their defense was on the money. I hated to admit it, but a solid reason we could take the lead was because of our new center, Jagger Black. He’d arrived late in the season, some trade deal that was none of my business, but had pissed just about everyone off.
He was here due to our former center’s injury in a horrific car accident, but the bastard was conceited as hell, and from day one we’d realized we didn’t like each other very much. Fine by me.
However, he was magic on the ice, his aggressive actions the reason for his nickname, ‘the Jag.’ He also reminded me of my brother Ford and how he handled his twig. If we wanted to win this fucking game, I’d need to step up to the plate. They didn’t call me the Rebel for nothing, but in my mind, I liked to think of myself as an enforcer.
The crowd was already going wild, yelling out plays and encouragement. I could swear I’d caught the girl on the Jumbotron more than once, but when I’d tried to find her in between periods, she’d been a ghost.
A hard crack dragged my mind back to where it should be and I funneled my attention back into the game. My job was a study in controlled momentum. I moved with purpose to defend the center.
Even if the guy pissed me off.
It was time to thwart an attack. In the zone, I anticipated the actions of the opposing center, using my stick to strip the puck away. Drake Miller was a brutal son of a bitch, his reputation as a ladies’ man barely matching his ridiculous tirades on social media.
For some reason, he had it out for me. Well, fuck him.
With my keen hearing, I enjoyed the roar of the crowd just before dropping my shoulder, seamlessly steering the attacker to the boards.
I’d been nice for once, curtailing my aggression. The dude wasn’t injured, just furious because if the Jag did his job, I’d just stolen the win.
Maybe resting on my laurels hadn’t been the best move. With no penalties, the game resumed and as soon as I was ready to pass the puck off to Jagger, Drake hauled ass toward me. What the fuck did he think he was doing? With no hesitation, he delivered an illegal check that pitched me into the boards, the bone-crunching maneuver creating a thunderous impact, the glass shuddering.
Before I could even push myself off the ice, Drake was in my face. In a blur of motion, we both shed our gloves, the leather landing softly on the scarred ice. We grabbed each other’s jerseys, knuckles white, and began to trade wild, thudding blows. The crowd erupted into a deafening, unified roar. It was a desperate, swinging grapple on slick blades, ending only when Drake caught a skate in a rut and tumbled backward, taking me down with him.
The wind knocked from my lungs, I fell forward onto the ice.
Chaos had already ensued, players grabbing sweaters, the leverage allowing brutal punches to be thrown. Somehow, I heard the roar of the crowd and sensed everyone was on their feet.
When linesmen finally pulled us apart, the referee already screaming obscenities for the disruption, Drake stared me down as if the shit had been my fault. He lunged toward me again, this time caught by members of his own team, one guy shoving him toward the penalty box. With my chest heaving and nursing bruised knuckles, I headed to the box as well so the ref could sort out the penalties.
In the end, I was allowed to return to play. Why I wouldn’t question, but the Blackhawks’ coach might. I sensed Miller throwing a fit as we regrouped, although Jagger was none too happy for the interruption. Game on.
The clock ticked down and Jagger had the puck, sweeping back and forth as he headed for the net. I also had to give the man credit where credit was due. He could fake it to make it with the best of them.
The opposing team’s goalie hadn’t stood a chance in hell, the puck flying into the center of the net.
And that’s how a game was won.
Along with a butterfly kiss from my guardian angel.
Jagger was rarely emotional, his expression always pinched, but at least this time after the win, he offered a high five as the rest of the team jumped all over each other like Neanderthals. This wasn’t a championship game, but damn it, they were acting like it was.
Their glee, while obnoxious, was catching and I found myself whooping and growling like some beast in the wild while lifting my stick. Yeah, we were real tough guys alright. That’s what the chicks loved, alpha dudes.
According to my sister. As of late, Samantha had taken it upon herself to offer me dating advice, insisting she was responsible for my other brother Beck hooking up with his girlfriend Sloane. Or maybe they were engaged. I couldn’t tolerate the lovey-dovey crap from either brother. They’d turned into something I didn’t recognize any longer.
Two whipped pups instead of big, strong alpha wolves.
Backing away from the motley crew, I scanned the arena one last time in hopes of catching sight of her. Nope. My luck had run out.
I snorted from the thought and headed to the locker room. Tonight, I’d indulge in a couple of drinks. There was a lot of time to go in the season, but I sensed we were headed for the playoffs. Instead of going over plays in my mind that had taken a miracle to pull off, my thoughts drifted to the girl all over again.
Man, what I wouldn’t give to have one drink with her so I could stare into her eyes. That wasn’t exactly the truth. What I’d really like would be to have her writhing under me. Or straddling me. Or we could do it up against the wall. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever had sex that way. Anything she wanted, including the use of my long tongue feasting on her sweetness was fine by me.
Hell, now I was rock hard and had to find a way to calm down. The way she’d looked in the dark skirt had pushed every button in my body. Somehow, with her sweet voice alone, she’d managed to snag a tiger by the tail.
The coach suddenly appeared, his signature headshake telling me all I needed to know. “Do I need to ask what the hell was that about?”
“You gotta ask the San Diego center about that, Coach. I was minding my own business.” I involuntarily rubbed my knuckles and the coach lifted his eyebrows.
“Uh-huh. You know what, Kendrick? You’re just like your brother. And trust me. That’s not necessarily a compliment.”
Ford had played for the same team, causing his share of trouble. However, both Ford and Beck had made it to the NHL, so there was something special in our blood. Right? And not only the excessive use of force as social media liked to call us out on.
I took a deep breath as the coach walked away, strangely enough wondering if the beautiful girl had seen me in action. Yeah, if she had she’d probably be scared off by now. I snorted and continued walking down the corridor.
“Great job out there,” someone called.
I waved in response just as a couple of girls somehow managed to push their way through security. Or maybe given they were wearing skimpy cheerleading outfits, the guards had allowed them access. They squealed when they noticed me, rushing forward. White short-shorts, red blouses exposing delicious, ample breasts, and both with long legs made to wrap around a man’s waist, they were every hockey player’s fantasy.
Just not mine.
“Oh, it’s the Rebel,” one cooed, already raking her long nails down my arm.
“I think he’s more of a hunter. One big, strong… beast.”
“I wonder what he’s hunting tonight. What if we ran into the forest and hid from you? Would you chase us?”
The other giggled. “Just like Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Howdy, girls,” I said in response. “Like the game?” A hunter. Hell, that sounded like a lot of fun right about now.
“Uh-huh,” the blonde tossed out. “But we’ll let you in on a little secret. We like you a lot more.” Another giggle. Another stroke of long fingers only this time on my chest.
I noticed Bart, one of two security guards huffing as he headed in our direction.
“Uh-oh,” the dark-haired girl mused. “We’re going to be tossed out. Could we get a picture with such a hottie? Pretty please?”
“When you ask so nicely, how could I resist? I wouldn’t be a gentleman then. Would I?”
Another squeal, this time in my ear. While there was nothing like being sandwiched between two hot women, one was a little handsy while the other took the picture. At least they’d have something positive to take with them when they were tossed out.
“Ladies. Come on. Let’s go. Sorry about that, Mr. Kendrick,” Bart chided. The roll of his eyes brought a chuckle. I had to wonder how many women he’d dragged from the various events.
After a wave and a jiggle of their backsides, the girls dutifully followed Bart’s orders. Well, until Cujo rounded the corner. Now their squeals were deafening. I headed down the corridor, noticing Jagger was being hounded by a couple of reporters. With making the winning goal and how photogenic he was, Jag was the obvious choice for the team’s poster boy on social media and in the news.
The corners of my mouth twitched as I pushed my way into the locker room, heading to my stall. Given the lurid images running through my mind, thoughts that rivaled one hell of a kinky guy’s appetite, I should be ashamed of myself. I didn’t know the girl. She could be married with five kids for all I knew, which meant my desires were totally uncool.
However, a man enduring such a hard-on was allowed a little leeway when thinking about a hot stranger. Hmmm… I could envision folding her over my Harley and fucking her like a wild animal.
Classy, dude. Real classy.
Who knows. Maybe she liked it a little rough around the edges, enjoying a more predatory style of romance. Well, if not, she’d be out of luck since that’s the only type this red-blooded boy could tolerate.
I’d no sooner thumped down on the bench to yank off my skates when Hudson came howling into the room. Literally. He stepped into the entrance, parted his legs, and threw his head back, offering the team and anyone else who gave a damn a lesson in how not to try to disguise yourself as a wild animal. Maybe the chicks enjoyed his antics, but I knew what was coming next.
“And in tonight’s hall of fame we have Cole… the Rebel… Kendrick. AKA the wolf. The wolfman. Wolfie. The howler and growler.”
“Would you cut it the fuck out?” I ripped off my jersey, tossing it at him. At a time when pretty much everyone in the continental United States and likely half the rest of the world was sick to death of hearing about the existence of shifters, Hudson took every opportunity to spout off my predicament to reporters.
And anyone else willing to listen.
Sure, the dude meant well, but Jesus, his fascination with ‘how I hunted my food,’ which was his typical unwanted way of teasing me, was about to drive me nuts. Especially since there were a bunch of people who actively kept their children away from me for that reason alone.
As if I fucking hunted people for dinner.
“Why? You’re the reason the Jagmeister made that last goal. You were rockin’ tonight.”
“Yeah, I did okay.”
“Eh, don’t worry about the fight. Drake had it coming.”
I tried to pass it off but had a bad feeling Drake would continue some imaginary vendetta. “Maybe.”
“Definitely. He’s a jerk.” After tossing me the shirt, he slid onto the bench next to me, bumping shoulders. “Hey, you should put your name into the hat for captain.”
“What?”
Hudson nodded. “Why not? With Todd being out for the rest of the season, the coach and management will need to choose another. After tonight’s performance, you’re on the radar, man.”
I hadn’t even thought about the captain’s position. It wasn’t all bells and whistles. I’d been around the block with the game long enough to know the responsibility could be heavy. “Dude, the last time I checked, I was a defenseman. You know they usually pick centers. Jagger’s up for the job.”
His snort oozed animosity. “The guy is a jerk.”
“Yeah, well, so the hell what? And anyone you don’t like you call a jerk.” Jerks usually managed to get anything they set their hearts on. “Besides, I don’t think the coach is so inclined to see me in a position of power.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Cause you’re a shifter and prone to unexplained bouts of violence?”
“What the fuck?”
“Trending on Instagram.”
“See? Fucking perfect.”
“What is wrong with you tonight?” His huge smile faded, taking on more of a knowing look. “Oh, I get it. You’re hung up on that girl. Right?”
“What girl?” Oh, sure, I was going to pass off I had no clue what he was talking about with ease and charm. I stood abruptly, heading to my locker. The last thing I needed was to be cornered by a man with a huge mouth. If I wasn’t careful, by the time I left the arena tonight, there’d be rumors all over TikTok that I was getting married.
And that wouldn’t be good for my sex life.
He slapped his hand on the bench. “You know which girl. The one you almost lost your shit over.”
I eyed the doorway as Jagger walked in. This time, there was no nod, no exchange of pleasantries.
“What in the goddamn fuck was that shit?” Jagger threw out from across the room.
“You mean ensuring your sorry ass was able to make a gino without fumbling?” Yeah, he made the goal because of me. I jerked to a standing position, daring the fucker to come get me. Yeah, I knew my words were antagonistic, but I just didn’t like the guy’s attitude.
He flew at me, almost launching over the row of benches before Zane, another defenseman caught him. “The question is what the fuck is wrong with the two of you. Jesus. Aren’t we on the same team?” His glare from one to the other was harsh.
“You saw that son of a bitch on the Blackhawks, Jag. He has it in for Cole.” Hudson tried to be the peacemaker, at least when he didn’t have a quart of tequila in him.
“Do you blame him?” Jagger yanked his arm free, Hudson even ready to choose sides if necessary. Fortunately, he backed off but not before snarling at me. What did he think? That the shit was funny?
So I was a fucking wolf. So what?
A few seconds later, I lowered back onto the bench.
“Well, I’m sure I’ll never see her again.” I eyed Jagger as he stormed toward his stall, tossing his helmet onto the shelf. When he darted me a look, I knew whatever he was pissed off about had my name written all over it. And it wasn’t all about the fight during the game.
Hudson leaned in, howling once again, which caused a chain reaction of a few other players doing the same thing. They thought it was funny as hell.
Jagger certainly didn’t. His entire face conveyed a level of fury he usually reserved for the ice and as soon as he ripped off his clothes, he slammed the locker door with so much firepower the building shook.
Not really, but there wasn’t a single guy in the locker room who hadn’t been warned to stay the hell away from Jagger.
Fine by me.
If there was anything I couldn’t stand, it was a pompous jerk.
Even if that could include myself. With a wry smile on my face, I shucked off the remainder of my clothes and headed for the shower.
Yeah, it was definitely time for a drink.