Page 56 of Pucking Vamps

He kisses me on the cheek, handing me a perfectly crispy drumstick. “Anything for my mate. Now eat and watch. Areos and Onyx are dying for a run.”

Ah yes, our horses. The ones he got because I was fanboying over Vivian’s. I shake my head, my smile stretching wide. Leander’s such a dork. But he’s my sexy vampire Daddy dork and I’m here for it.

Epilogue

Two months later.

HAYDEN

I’m buzzing, every inch of me on fire as we spill out into the rink. The crowd explodes, screaming and shouting. Signs are waved around, jerseys are held up high. It’s like I’ve walked into a battlefield or a Roman arena. The air crackles with energy, pumping more adrenaline into my blood.

“Okay guys, this is it!” Coach shouts over the commotion, his eyes shining with excitement. “This may be a charity match, but there are agents from the top ten teams. This is your chance. Play like you’ve never played before. Make me proud!”

We roar in agreement as the beep goes off. It’s time. My nerves dance as I take my position, squeezing my stick. Nick gets ready for the faceoff. Park glares at me from the other side, but nods his head. We are a team for the next hour and a half. I have his back, he has mine. Things have been… better lately, our animosity mostly contained in light scuffles now and then. All because of me. I blame Leander for it; he’s been fucking the hotheadedness out of me every time before practice.

Time slows down. The crowd is still yelling, chaos reigning around me. But among that chaos I feel it, the flicker of order. The anchor, the beacon calling out to me. My mate, here to witness the most important moment of my life. Here to support me.

My eyes cut to him, locating him as if they know exactly where to look. His emerald green gaze is blazing, locked on me. He’s wearing my practice jersey and pants. No underwear. He’s my prize and we both know it.

I take a deep breath, momentarily overwhelmed by everything. I can’t believe I’m here. Tonight, everything changes. I will make history for myself. Because I will win. I will prove to myself and everyone that I have it in me to be one of those stars at the very top. I know it in my bones, in every fiber of my being. And Leander’s here to witness it. He’s here for me. I am not alone. I have him in my corner, at my side, his presence reaching out to mine in a boost of adrenaline and euphoria.

The referee prepares the puck. I flex my muscles.

“You got this,” Leander mouths, his voice clear and confident in my head.

I nod, tearing my eyes from him. The chill of the ice crashes into the heated skin of my face. I revel in it, let it engulf me. For the next hour, the rink is all that matters. I am one with my stick, a hunting hound with one single objective—to win. The black disc is my weapon and the net is my target. Nothing else matters, only the game. Only my teammates, Park included.

My muscles flex and tense, my legs ready. The beep sounds again. Nick clashes with the opponent. The puck flies past the enemy’s blue line. I bolt after it, Park on my heel. I’m the first one to reach it and get control of it but a mountain of a Gators’ player rushes toward me.

“I got you, Johnson!” Park screams, pushing past a snarling defenseman.

I grit my teeth. Not how I wanted to start the game, there goes my flashy play. But I also want to win. And there is no way I can take on this giant and come out on top. So, squeezing my stick as my head swims with possibilities, I fake out a strike toward the net and send the puck at the irritating redhead.

Park grins, pivoting to the left as he snatches the puck with his stick blade. The guy who was headed my way grunts, spinning away as his target changes. But he’s too late, Park’s already at the net, sending the little disc right past the goalie.

The beep screams, the crowd follows. I bump my shoulder into my right winger and get back to the middle of the rink. The puck slides into our side this time, the Gators’ offensive lineup bulldozing through our defense. It all comes down to Jimmy, who’s guarding our net like his life depends on it.

He stops the attack. We cheer. And then we are back at it, this time the Gators scoring a hit. It’s a back and forth after that, a change in lineup coming toward the end of the first period. I haven’t scored anything yet. My nerves are on edge and my head is throbbing. I want to win. But it’s useless to me if I can’t showcase my ability. I need that flashy goal that was stolen from me at the start of the game. I need to prove that I am one of the best players on the ice tonight.

Tapping on the glass above me snatches my attention. I twist around to see who it is. A boy who can’t be older than ten shoots a toothy smile at me, holding a handmade sign that reads ‘Go Scarecrows, Johnson is the best’. I’m dead. My blood boils. Grinning back at the kid, I give him the thumbs up.

It’s torture waiting for my turn on the ice. I don’t get it until the half point of the second period. The Gators have a lead of three points, but that’s fine. I’m about to annihilate it. Buzzing, I meet Leander’s gaze again for a heartbeat, then get in position. I’ve got this.

The beep rings and the puck flies toward me. I snatch it, sending it forward. It crosses the line, headed right for the Gators’ defender. I don’t let it escape me. I pick up speed and get hold of it, slipping past the opposing player with a flawlessly executed spin away.

It’s just me and the Gators’ goalie now, his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched.

This is my chance. I’m scoring, no matter what.

Winding up my shot as I approach the goal line, I drop my shoulder and pull back a little while retaining control of the puck. The goalkeeper prepares, his eyes on the puck. At the last moment, I cut across to the opposite side of the net, changing the stick to my other hand.

He doesn’t get the chance to react. I’m too fast, the black disc tucked into the net before he’s managed to blink.

Cheers erupt around me, pride swelling in my chest. I’m good. I can be one of the best. The ice is my realm, the stick an extension of my body. A weapon that’s part of me.

Panting, I get ready again. Two more goals happen before the break, both courtesy of me. The third period is wild, though I don’t get to play until the very end. Coach knows he can count on me, so he keeps me for last. I don’t disappoint. He subs me in during a power play after one of the Gators’ wings trips Park, sending him sprawling on the ice. The snort and the pat on the back I give my red-headed teammate has him fuming.

The last ten minutes are super intense, everyone doing their best to tip the scales in their favor. But I don’t allow it, scoring another beautiful goal and solidifying our lead, so a comeback is unlikely.

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