Page 49 of Puck & Her Blades

It’s lucky that they can’t read our filthy minds.

My already sweaty and red cheeks flush further. My ankle still throbs, but I can put my full weight on it, even if I’m not able to skate yet.

It’s Wednesday night, the second match between the Blades and the New York Coyotes.

It’s a crucial match, and this is the first intermission.

The crowd is buzzing because the play is so fucking close.

The score is 1 — 1.

Cygnus has already had to elbow me, when I roared in excitement.

Number One rule: Mascots don’t talk.

“Sydney’s insisting about the handler stuff, after you yelled, “Shoot it!” at Jackson,” Cygnus says. “You have some serious lungs on you. Jackson almost tripped over. It made Millie’s day though. She loves you. Lark says that she hasn’t stopped talking about the purple monster and asking if you can come and live under her bed.”

I bite my lip hard not to burst out laughing.

I sneakily elbow Cygnus again.

It’s not fair for him to try and make me laugh.

Cygnus smirks. “Go on then, this is your special moment.”

He leans down, picking up a comically large slingshot, which is loaded with Puck merchandise, from jerseys to t-shirts.

The Beta bodyguards around us watch me, unsure.

Sadly, the merchandise isn’t covered with my awesome suggestions for marketing slogans:

Fuck the puck or puck off.

Instead, they have a cartoon version of the mascot on skates alongside the Washington Blades’ logo and the words PUCK, YEAH.

I forgive them because of the slingshot.

Cygnus waves at the crowds, who go wild.

Then he points at me, and the spotlight focuses on me.

It’s strange to be the center of attention like this.

I focus on the section of the crowd at the back, where the Omegas who have been brave enough to attend a live event have been stuffed, then I fire.

The crowds whoop as the merchandise soars through the air over the Alphas and Betas.

“You’re our hero, Puck,” Cygnus whispers.

A fluttery feeling starts in my stomach.

A hero? How can I be?

The Omegas cheer, as the merchandise rains down on them. They hold out their arms to catch it, grinning and laughing.

Cygnus is smiling, and unlike the first night that I saw him, it seems genuine. It doesn’t feel like he’s only been wheeled out here before the crowds by his sister to prove how perfect the Blade pack is.

Cygnus appears to truly want to be with me tonight, and I can’t think of anywhere else that I’d rather be.

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