Page 56 of Ice Wolf
But if I had to guess, I’d say almost every story was embellished with the joy of being family, adding aspects of history that existed only in fervent minds hopeful of inspiring their children.
With our father, he’d been blunt, refusing to sugarcoat the reality of who and what we were.
We could be rich and famous, entrepreneurs or astronauts, actors or doctors. It honestly didn’t matter because at the end of the day, from our ancestors to our children and grandchildren, the reality of who and what we were would never change.
Canis lupus.
Predatory monsters.
CHAPTER 14
Lily
Tingling sensations washed over me every time Saint skated by our seats. Every time he did, I could swear he was ensuring I remained where I was, watching him.
Hungering for him.
How could I not watch him? The man was larger than life.
A loudthunkon the ice brought fans to their feet.
And not in a good way.
“Get him out of here!” a guy from behind me screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Shitcan the Italian Wall!” another puffed out.
“Why the hell did that dude from the other team smack Saint?” I asked, furious with the asshole. Wasn’t there a code of conduct for games?
Vicky pumped her fist, yelling Savage’s name like almost every other person in the arena.
Except for me.
I was completely uncomfortable, so far over my head I was lost in the clouds. The only good thing about sitting on my ass freezing to death was my skin wasn’t itching as badly as it had the night before.
“See that dude in the black and red uniform?”
“Not a nice guy.”
She chuckled. “Rocco Lorenzo.”
“Oh, yeah. Saint mentioned him.”
“He’s an ass but a damn good player. He and Saint can’t stand each other. Fights break out every time they’re in the same city let alone forced to play hockey.”
Seconds later, she was on her feet and so was I. Saint acted as if he was going to use the hockey stick as a bat. That would be such a bad idea and I had no idea about the penalties. I’d forced myself to glance at a few internet articles on hockey, but it had all seemed like mumbo-jumbo to me.
“Saint. No!” I yelled and I’d be damned if he didn’t toss a look in my direction before lowering his stick, doing nothing more than puffing out his chest at the opposing player.
Vicky sharply turned her head. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make him stop?”
My brain shifted to his wildly exaggerated attributes. Maybe keen hearing should be added to the list. “I did nothing. He stopped on his own. Maybe he’s starting to learn.”
“Right. You need to look at photographs of these two. They are brutal.” We both sat back down and the game resumed.
