Page 120 of Quarterback Sneak
I turn back to Slate. “Tell me what I need to know.” Zane growls low in his chest, but I ignore it.
“The bond has been activated simply by spending time with you. He’ll be able to feel your strong emotions. If you were a wolf, you’d be able to feel his as well. The bond’s goal is to push you towards completing the bond and mating.” Slate’s eyes are intense. “When the bond doesn’t naturally progress, the two in the bond feel the effects of it.”
“Which is what?” I ask, my voice clear and calm.
“It starts as a stomach ache, eventually stomach cramps. It can lead to debilitating pain.”
“Slate, stop,” Zane barks. Slate shuts his mouth, but the damage has been done. I turn to Zane. “I’m fine.”
“Are you in pain?” I ask.
“I’m fine.”
“Zane, are you in pain?”
He grits his teeth. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. He shouldn’t have told you that.”
“No, he shouldn’t have.Youshould have.” I cross my arms over my chest and level a glare at him. Horror hits me suddenly. “Is that why you’ve been playing so poorly?”
“Wow. Thanks.”
I grimace, thinking I could have probably handled that a little better. Slate chuckles, earning him a dark look from Zane. Slate puts his hands up in surrender. “My job here is done.”
“Not so fast, Slater Thorne.” The command in my voice surprises even me.
He studies me. “You know my full name.”
“Actually, that would be my suitemate. I told her there was a Slate here who played soccer, and she knew who you were.” I watch him carefully. “Said you were going to be the next Mess.”
He blinks at me, while Zane barks out a laugh. “Messi,” Zane says in a voice full of laughter. “But I like Mess; let’s stick with that.”
“Laugh it up,” Slate mutters under his breath. “Am I allowed to go now?” he asks in a dry voice.
“When’s your next home game?” I ask, ignoring his question.
“Friday.”
“What time?”
“Seven.”
I nod. “I’ll be there. I want to try to bring my suitemate too.”
His eyes flick to Zane’s, and I fight the urge to sigh. “I’m not going to ask permission,” I tell him.
Zane grins. “I know. Can I go with you to the game?”
“You don’t have practice?”
“I do, but hopefully, I can get out on time to go watch.”
“Perfect. I'll get tickets.”
“I can get them,” Slate says in a low voice. “Three?”
“I’m not sure yet; I’ll ask my suitemate and get back to you. Does that work?” He gives me a short nod. “Okay, I’ll let you know soon.”
“Now, can I go?” Slate asks.
