Page 57 of Puck & Her Blades

My heart is thundering in my chest, as I peek around the corner into the main room.

Then I gasp.

Am I truly doing this? What if I’m caught?

Yet this is what I do; I’m an investigative sports journalist.

Sort of.

There’s something going on with the Washington Blades, beyond the simple truth that Roarke Blade is a controlling jerk, which isn’t merely about him being Traditional.

Many coaches have that trait.

I won’t sit around and be played with. I’ve been trained to take my destiny into my own hands.

I wet my lips and step more boldly into the locker room, sniffing to try and locate which stall is Asher’s.

Cygnus said that he smelled of peaches and cream, right?

I take a deep breath.

Then I catch it.

There.

My eyelashes flutter closed.

The scent is delicious.

Mouthwatering.

Hurriedly, I rush to the stall, breathing as deeply as I can to follow the trail of peaches and cream.

Then I stroke my hands over Asher’s helmet.

I scan over his other equipment, before my eyes narrow.

His jersey is missing.

Then I blink.

There’s something glowing and violet, which is hooked behind the rest of the equipment. It looks like it’s been hidden.

I start to reach for it but then, I hesitate.

If Asher wanted to hide this secret, do I have the right to drag it into the light? Even if I’m doing it to protect him and other people in the sporting world?

Even if I’m doing it to the protect myself?

Asher is Cygnus’ best friend. He’s an awesome Beta to Lark and Millie. Jackson and Zev are as close as I’ve ever seen Alphas be with a Beta to him.

They all love him.

By the way that butterflies swarmed in my stomach, when Asher’s honey eyes were fixed on me with a focused intensity earlier on the rink, it would be easy to fall for him too.

Dangerous but easy.

Slowly, I withdraw my hand.

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