Page 18 of Knot Sharing the Ice

"She started it," I mutter, knowing how childish I sound. "And she's not our mate. Not really. Not if she doesn't want us."

The words taste bitter on my tongue.

The others were right when they were busting my balls about those books earlier. Hell, I'm probably the only one who's given more than a passing thought to actually finding a mate. We're all so focused on the sport, on the rest of the team, but in the back of my mind, it's always felt like there was something missing.

Someone.

But now that I've caught her scent, felt that instant connection...

The thought of her rejecting us makes something twist painfully in my chest.

Mason's quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable behind his mask. Finally, he says, "You ever think maybe that'swhy she's so prickly? Because she does want us, and she's scared shitless of what that means?"

I pause, puck balanced on the blade of my stick. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, stretching out his legs in a series of practiced movements. "Think about it. She's a professional athlete, just like us. You know how much work that takes, how much sacrifice. And here we come, four strange alphas, basically telling her that biology says she's supposed to be with us. That's gotta be terrifying."

I frown, considering his words. It makes sense, in a way I hadn't considered before. "So, what, we're just supposed to back off? Let her go?"

The thought makes my inner alpha snarl in protest.

She'sours.

How are we supposed to just... walk away?

Mason shakes his head. "Nah, that's not what I'm saying. But maybe we need to show her that being with us doesn't mean giving up her dreams. That we'd support her, just like she'd support us."

"And how exactly are we supposed to do that when she can barely stand to be in the same room as us?" I ask, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

"By being patient," he says simply. "By showing her who we really are, not just what she thinks alphas are supposed to be."

I snort. "Right, because I've done such a great job of that so far."

Mason laughs, a real laugh this time. "Yeah, well, maybe tone down the caveman act a bit. She seems like the type who'd appreciate a little finesse."

"Finesse," I repeat, testing the word out. "Not exactly my strong suit."

"No shit," Mason says dryly. "But you've got other qualities. Use 'em."

I raise an eyebrow. "Like what?"

He considers for a moment. "You're funny when you're not trying too hard. You're loyal as hell. And you care, even if you suck at showing it sometimes."

I blink, surprised by the unexpected praise. "Uh, thanks?"

Mason waves it off. "Don't let it go to your head. Now come on, show me what you've got. And this time, try not imagining the puck is Ember's clothes, yeah?"

I feel my face heat up. "I wasn't?—"

"Sure you weren't," he says with a knowing smirk. "Now shut up and shoot."

We fall back into the rhythm of practice, but my mind is whirling with new possibilities.

Maybe Mason's right.

Maybe we just need to show Ember who we really are, beyond the alpha posturing and hockey personas.

But as I wind up for another shot, a traitorous voice in the back of my mind whispers something else.

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