Page 9 of My Pucking Mate

“Father, do you care to finish your sentence, or are you practicing the art of suspense?” I ask, feigning indifference, as I straighten my silverware next to my place setting.

I’ve obviously ruffled his feathers, judging by the small scrunch of his brows for only a moment, and I love it. “Well, son, it is most excellent news!” he exclaims as he claps his hands.

Nothing good can come from him being this truly happy with himself.

“Boian has informed me that the union of you and India will be so much more than your average arranged marriage . . .” he pauses once again, for dramatic effect, and I can feel my resolveto not strangle him weaken. My men are just as restless. My wolf is growling and pacing under my skin.

“When you’ve finished with your silly little hockey career, you will return to Zabella, and you will no longer be commander of the army.”

I’m up and out of my chair in an instant, letting the roar loose from my throat. “What are you going on about? No more of this illustrious bullshit. You have only a moment to tell me what’s going on before this is no longer a nice family dinner.”

My father takes a moment to straighten his cufflinks, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, but I can see the tic in his jaw that tells me how he feels about me interrupting him. “Well, son, if you would let me speak. Now, as I was saying, you will no longer be the commander of our armies.”

Small growls erupt around the table.

“As you know, our poor princess was lost to us some time ago. Though the King and Queen continue to hold out hope that she will be found, Boian has been in discussion with them for some time. They have finally all agreed that should our princess not be found by the time you’re finished with your little hockey games, you, my son, will take the throne as king, with India as your queen.”

All the men begin yelling into my mind at once, causing me to throw up my walls.

“What did you just say?” I ask in a calm and deadly voice. “I didn’t ask for this. What if I don’t want this? It’s not enough to marry her to make your old pal happy, but now I’m to lose all my freedom and become King?!”

India flinches from the level of my voice, but I can tell she’s still immensely pleased with herself.

I couldn’t imagine her as the Luna of my pack, and they want her to be the Queen Luna of our existence? This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. “Alright, Father, joke’s over. What did you really want to talk about?” I ask.

“Roman, I will not be spoken down to again, and I do not spin fairytales. You will be king, whether you like it or not. Enjoy playing your silly games, and when the time comes, you will be king.” With that, he stands, throws his napkin from his lap onto his plate, and storms out of my home with India hot on his heels. I’m sure she has questions and more ass-kissing to do, but I can’t be bothered to care right now.

Once we’re alone, all of my men look to me with different expressions on their faces. Benny is a mixture of shock, awe, and trying not to laugh his ass off. Eris and Dolos seem to be rendered speechless, which I haven’t witnessed in a long time. Slate looks like he’s going to kill someone, but he always looks like that so it’s hard to tell if he’s affected. Andrei looks a little confused, and maybe a little lost in thoughts or memories.

“I don’t know anything more than all of you. I didn’t know this was coming,” I state, quietly.

“I think you made that clear with your father, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s happening,” Slate replies, always the logical one but he’s not done yet, “should we talk about this and make a plan of some kind? There are going to be a lot of moving parts we’ll need to take care of.”

I’ve always been immensely grateful for my men, but they never cease to amaze me with their loyalty to me. “Thank you, Slate, but that’s not needed yet. I don’t plan to retire from hockey any time soon, and I’m not thinking about this right now. Let’s just finish eating, and for now, we can pretend this didn’t happen.” And so, we did.

As the last of my men make their way out, leaving just Benny and myself at the table, Benny looks at me without a hint of humor in his words, “What now, Boss?”

I drop my chin for a moment feeling my wolf fight a mixture of rage and pride under my skin. Looking back up, I scrub my hand up and down my face and let it settle on the back of my neck, “Benny . . . for once I don’t really know.”

7

Clothes are scattered all over our room and I’m not any closer to actually choosing something to wear on my assignment. I can’t find the right balance of professional, chic, and fun.Is that even what you wear for sports photojournalism?Photographing animals was so much easier. Animals didn’t judge what you were wearing while you took their pictures.

It’s also so much easier to plan photos and interview topics in theory. The thought of actually having to show up in front of these people, who aren’t just people, they’re super famous, and kind of gorgeous men, who play hockey for a living and still remember to follow the plan I wrote . . . is terrifying. I never realized how attractive these men actually are. It really isn’t fair to us regular mortals that they can walk around looking like that. What if words fail me and I can’t even speak? What if I pick thewrong clothes and look like a total fool and they don’t even want to talk to me?

I flop, face first, onto my bed with a dramatic half sigh, half growl. I'm talking full blown Disney princess temper tantrum and scream into my pillow.

“Will you just ask me for help for once?” Zoey snickers from where she has her nose in a book, tucked comfortably into her bed. It’s not that I don’t want to ask for help; I just don’t understand when it’s okay to ask or at what point I become a nuisance.

With my face still in my pillow, I grumble, “Will you please help me? I don’t know what to wear for my interview.” She flies off the bed so fast that it makes me giggle. “If you wanted to help so much, why couldn’t you butt in sooner?”

“You need to know you can ask for help, but it’s been killing me!” she says with a wide smile on her face. “Plus, you’re so pretty, I’ve been waiting for the chance to dress you up!”

“Oh . . .” I say with a blush spreading to my cheeks. I felt pretty to myself, but other than my parents, no one has ever directly called me pretty before, let aloneso pretty. “Thanks, Zo,” I mumble as she starts pinging around the room, gathering what she needs to put me together.

I’m so glad I let Zoey talk me into going shopping, so we had clothes for any occasion. My wardrobe has mostly, only ever, consisted of comfy pajamas, jeans, t-shirts, and leggings. Now, I have some mix-and-match suits, cuter casual clothes, and even some cute dressy clothes, should the need arise.

She’s got things from both of our collections of clothes and accessories to put together an absolute knockout outfit. We’re roughly the same size, so it’s nice that we can share stuff. She’s gathered my high-waisted, classic black pencil skirt, a soft-pinktank top with lace detailing across the neckline, a cropped, black blazer with giant rhinestones for buttons, and my silver pointed toe pumps. Luckily, most of the arena isn't as cold as the actual rink, so I think this will be a good balance.

---