Page 53 of Ice Wolf
We were close, or at least we had been. While he was a few years younger, once upon a time we’d been inseparable. But with all things, life had taken a toll. I’d shot my way to stardom with the NHL and he remained in the American Hockey League, still bitter his number had yet to be called.
Jealousy was the crux of our issue, although we’d both refused to admit it. The truth was that my brother was the better hockey player. I just had more style.
Or so I’d believed all these years.
“Late fucking night? Which chick were you fucking? Is she still here?” Steven never minced words, his fault to corral.
Which he often refused to do.
That was his problem. His hot head kept him from ignoring the beast inside.
Sometimes I wondered if his wolf was more powerful than mine. He certainly had more anger issues. I waited as he had the nerve to search the bottom floor of my house.
“Finished fucking with me?” I snarled.
“Somebody needs to,” Steve threw back then laughed. “Oh, I forget. You get plenty of that.”
“Cut the crap, Steve. I was with my newgirlfriendtrying to create the perfect photographic moment.” I turned around, realizing every muscle in my body ached. It was an entirely different kind of discomfort than I was used to. I’d known for years what playing hockey would do to my body. I expected the aches and pains, the necessity for creams and hot showers. What I didn’t anticipate was the deep and almost paralyzing shift of pain to my loins.
I craved what I’d just tasted only hours before.
My mate.
Even now, I was still having a difficult time trying to wrap my mind around the possibility that the need was real.
“I see how well that worked out for you. And for your entire family. Do you know what your little display of alpha bullshithas done to me?” Steven confronted me, his eyes reflecting the hatred I’d sensed the moment he’d walked in.
“What do you mean?” I padded my way toward the kitchen knowing he would follow.
“Are you kidding me? You don’t pay a damn bit of attention to my career. Do you?”
I shot him a look before heading to the drawer holding the coffee pods. “Coffee?”
“Fuck, no. I’ve been up for hours. I just stopped by before heading for a mandatory meeting with the coach, the assistant coach, the owner of the team, and the team’s public relations expert.”
Before I responded, I turned on the machine and grabbed a mug, fumbling before being able to place the pod in the holder. “What for?”
“Are you really going to play that card, Saint? Come on. You admitted you’re a werewolf.”
“I’m not a werewolf. I’m a shifter. The last time I checked, so are you.”
“Fucking Christ, man. You all but ruined both our careers and you’re going to play the semantics card? Are you that stupid or just that arrogant?”
“It was a joke.” Although I’d come to understand what I’d spouted off had been taken seriously.
He grumbled under his breath and pulled out his phone, furiously flipping from one screen to another. “Take a look at this.”
With bleary eyes, I leaned forward. The shot of my brother on the ice was cool.
The headline wasn’t.
Another Werewolf in the Wild. Lock Your Doors.
“What the fuck?” I snarled, instantly angry Steven had to go through such bullshit. I’d been his protector over the years, keeping his scrawny ass body from being bullied at school. Hell, I’d gotten more bloody noses than I could count, but the other assholes had been damaged for life.
“Exactly. Trust me. I was shoved onto the radar, but you should see the articles crucifying your existence. Dad called me last night. Some reporter managed to slide past the guards and the gate and get to his house. They photographed him in his smoking jacket. And Dad is getting angry. And you know exactly what happens when our father gets angry.”
I cringed hearing the words. Dad was usually a master of diplomacy.
