Page 77 of Puck & Her Blades

I throw back my head and spin.

Then I jump and jump and…

Suddenly, I glimpse Jackson leaning on the boards and watching me with intense, dark eyes.

My breath hitches, and I skate to a stop.

Across the length of the rink, we stare at each other.

I’m breathing hard, on a high.

Fuck it, I’m going to talk to him.

Buoyed up by the excitement of my skating, I don’t feel like Puck but rather, Ice again.

I’m not invisible inside my costume now or hidden in the dark.

Tonight, I’m the star.

I switch off my iPod, slipping it out of my ears and into my pocket.

I skate up to Jackson, and he never looks away from me.

“You probably don’t know who I am,” I say, before I lose my courage, “since last time we met, I was hidden inside a huge furry costume and wearing pheromone blockers.”

He straightens. “I know that you’re our Puck.”

“Oh.” I blush. “I thought that the rink was meant to be free tonight. Cygnus said that it would be. I’m sorry. I’ll leave now and let you…”

“Don’t,” Jackson says, quickly. “There’s enough time for both of us to use the rink. I came here to fit in some extra practice for the big game tomorrow. It’s important that we win.”

I nod.

I try to keep my expression blank, but it wrecks me that I know just how important the game is and also, what’s going to happen to him, if they don’t win and score enough to appease Roarke.

Plus, that Jackson could have asked for any reward for himself, but all he wanted was for me to attend the Omega selection party on Saturday.

Yet Jackson is perfect. He’s the most desired man in the sporting world.

I know that because he won Hottest Alpha Jock three years running in Alphas Today Magazine.

Why would he ask for me?

He’s wearing a long, woolen black coat over a stylish caramel suit with a matching tie, along with elegant black leather gloves.

His raven hair tumbles to his sharp cheekbones. His skin is warm and golden.

I can’t look away from his gorgeous bronze eyes.

He appears to misread my uncomfortable silence. “I’m not stalking you.”

I blink. “I didn’t think that you were. I mean, I wouldn’t mind it, if you were.”

“Good. Remember that, will you?” He leans closer, stroking the back of his leather glove down my cheek. “You’re so beautiful on the ice.”

My hands tighten on the boards, as my legs become weak.

Jackson’s spicy, mulled scent is intense.

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