Page 59 of No Promises, No Lies

Alongside my rising anger is an unwelcome rush of desire. I can’t deny how captivating she looks—I’m unable to look away. Little Kostalova skates the rest of the routine with a combination of strength and grace. And unlike when I’ve spied on her practicing her competition routines, she genuinely seems to be enjoying herself, the usual cold intensity missing from her beautiful face.

Rory stops on the blue line closest to me, raising her shimmering pom-poms to the sky, looking up to the crowd above. My eyes trail over the defined lines of her abs, the way her pleated skirt swirls about her legs. The heat rising deep within me has nothing to do with anger…This infuriates me even more and I glare at the little Belle, who spins around oblivious to the daggers I’m shooting her way. Giving me her back. Too absorbed in her routine and her job, eyes on the crowd. The number 21 flashes across her back in metallic silver embroidery. She tosses her hair and reveals the nameKingscrawled across her shoulders.

It’s instant rage at the sight of Colt’s name written on her body, with an unexplained craving for it to bemine.

Loud whistles draw my attention across the rink to the Falcons’ bench. A couple of their players have hung back as well, watching the Belles’ routine. I recognize one of them as the Falcons’ starting left wing, Logan Pierce. The piece of shit leans over his bench, trying to slap Rory’s ass as she skates past them.

At the last minute, she spots him and veers sharply to the left, just missing his hand. Her smile falters for a moment before she recovers, though looking a little unnerved.

My fists tighten at my side, and I grind my teeth.

By now, Assistant Coach McKinley’s anxiety has propelled him forward, eyeing me nervously as he gingerly pushes me toward the tunnel. I should be down below, listening to Coach’s second period speech. Reluctantly, I allow him to herd me down the tunnel, tearing myself away from the sight of Rory on the ice.

I stalk into the locker room with a slam of the door. The room is silent. All eyes are on me and I shoot Colt a dark glare before plopping down next to Liam, who gives me a curious look.

Shaking my head, I push him off. Not wanting to explain my newfound mood. For now, I need to channel all these complicated emotions into hockey. I can’t afford any distractions. I can’t letherdistract me. The wild emotions inside threaten to spill over, and maybe I’ll let them—on the Falcons’ offensive line.

Pierce is gonna get it.

If there’s one thing hockey’s good for—it’s an excellent outlet for pent up aggression.

36

THE VIBE IS SLUTTY CHIC

RORY

Skating for the Belles tonight was nothing like what I expected it to be. I’m grinning from ear to ear when we finally make it back to our locker room after the game. High on an adrenaline rush from the crowd, the performance, the win—everything.

The Breakers entered the third period with a 3-1 lead, but a couple of unnecessary penalties and bad plays allowed the Falcons to tie up the game 3-3.

Aidan O’Rourke came out for blood in the third, earning his reputation—and time in the penalty box for a major penalty—after charging the Falcons’ #25 Logan Pierce five minutes in and starting a fight.

The most rabid Breakers fans cheered while the rest of us watched in apprehensive fascination as Aidan punched the grin right off of Pierce’s face. Logan’s blood dripping all over the ice, leading to an unexpected break in play while the officials cleaned it up.

Not usually a fan of this violent side of the sport, I had to hide my grin. Pierce deserved it, especially after what he tried during the period break.

Unfortunately for me, the Irish Devil’s spot in the penalty box put him right next to the platform the Belles dance on throughout the game. By that point, I’m sure he’d noticed me and whatever his feelings were on it, I didn’t want to know. Throughout his entire sentence in the box, I could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on me, but I refused to acknowledge it, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the game.

That part aside, cheering and skating with the Belles tonight had turned out to be way more fun than I ever could have expected. I wasn’t about to let Aidan O’Rourke ruin it.

In the end, #19 made up for it by sinking a buzzer-beating goal just out of reach of the Falcons’ goalie to secure the win and avoid overtime.

“Rory,” Liv’s voice pulls me out of my head as I slip off my last skate and shove it into my bag. I notice most of the team looking my way. “You down?”

My eyes dart around the small room, hoping to pick up some context clues, but I come up with nothing. “Down for what?” My cheeks heat slightly.

Elle elbows me in the side teasingly, “The team’s all going out to Last Call tonight to celebrate the first win. It’s a sports bar close to the rink. You in?”

I catch the little side look she gives me. She might not know the reason, but she knows it can be… difficult for me to go out and do things like normal twenty-year-olds do, with how strict my security detail can be.

I nod, knowing full well agreeing to go out with the team means sneaking out of the mansion tonight… I’m sure Niko’s already pacing the halls of the family area. He hates hockey. It was work enough to talk him into allowing me to do the games at all. There's no way he’d be down for an after party…Engaged Bratva princesses have no business being in clubs.

“Yeah, I just need to run home first, shower and change...”

“Okay, great. Text me your address and we’ll pick you up in like an hour?” Liv calls on her way out of the locker room, bag already slung over her shoulder.

“The vibe isslutty chic,” Grace, another girl from the team, laughs from across the room.

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