Page 2 of Slash Me Savagely

He handed me a water bottle without even acknowledging what just happened. I took it mechanically but couldn’t shake the feeling that the player’s eyes remained on me. Even with Rob sitting right next to me, laughter echoing all around us, that gaze lingered—a silent challenge hanging between us like charged air before a storm.

Rob rambled on about stats and lineups while I forced myself to focus on him instead of what had just happened. But every time I glanced back toward the ice, I felt it—his stare bore down on me with an intensity that made it impossible to ignore. What did it mean?

Chapter 2

Matt

Istood at center ice; the arena buzzing around me, lights blaring down like spotlights on a stage. The scent of sweat and fresh ice filled the air. As the puck dropped, adrenaline surged through my veins.

I pushed off hard, gliding forward, my skates carving into the ice with precision. My eyes scanned the rink, assessing the opposition's movements. I spotted a defender closing in on me. With a flick of my wrist, I sent the puck flying past him—quick and unexpected.

“Fuck, Sokolov!” shouted a teammate as he took off down the left wing.

I chased after him, weaving through players like a needle through thread. The crowd erupted with each successful pass. Every time I touched the puck, it felt electric. I had to keep moving, keep creating space.

With one swift motion, I picked up speed, my skates digging into the surface beneath me as I approached the goal line. A defender shadowed me closely; his breath fogged in the cold air. I feigned left and darted right, slipping past him like he was stuck in molasses.

The goalie crouched low in anticipation. I barreled towards him. Time slowed as I positioned myself for a shot—just me and him now.

“Come on!” someone yelled from the stands.

I pulled back my stick and released a snap shot that sliced through the air like lightning. The puck soared towards its target but clanged off the crossbar with an echoing thud that sent fury spiraling through my gut.

“Get it back!” someone shouted from behind me.

I didn’t hesitate; instincts kicked in. I sprinted after the rebound as it bounced into open ice. My teammates scrambled to regain possession, voices rising in urgency around me.

“Over here!” I called out.

The chaos felt alive as players collided and sticks clashed. Finally, one of my linemates scooped up the loose puck and passed it to me with precision.

With a quick glance at my options, I made a decision. Instead of shooting again, I feinted another shot to draw out the goalie before sliding a perfect pass across to Peter Wolfe stationed at the far post.

He didn’t miss his mark; his blade connected solidly with the puck as he sent it flying into the net with a satisfying swish that echoed triumphantly through our home arena.

“Yeah!” The roar of our team erupted around me while cheers rang out from every corner of the stands.

The roar of the crowd faded as I turned to find her. She stood a few rows up, just beyond the glass, caught in a moment of celebration. Long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the arena lights in a way that made it shimmer like polished wood. Her eyes sparkled with excitement—deep green, bright as emeralds, alive with the energy of the game.

She wore a fitted shirt, one that hugged her frame just right, and every time she laughed or cheered, it sent an unexpectedjolt through me. She hadn't seem eager to be here, but she was getting into it.

There was something about her, something different that pulled me in. I couldn't quite put my finger on it; maybe it was the way she seemed genuinely invested in every play or how her smile lit up even the dullest moments.

I leaned against the boards, momentarily distracted from the celebration around me. My heart raced—not from the thrill of the game but from an overwhelming urge to approach her. To consume her. To see if those eyes would hold mine for more than a fleeting glance.

Then he appeared—her boyfriend—a broad-shouldered guy who pulled her close and planted a kiss on her lips to celebrate Wolfe's goal. The sight hit me like a punch to the gut. He grinned like he owned the world, and for a second, I wished I could wipe that smug look off his face.

Iwouldwipe the smug look off of his face.

I clenched my fists at my sides as jealousy coursed through me. How dare he? She was mine.

She didn't fucking know it yet, but she was mine.

And I didn't fucking share.

The game continued behind me; cheers erupted sporadically as our team took control again. But all I could focus on was her—how she shined even brighter than any victory we could claim on that ice.

“Let’s go!” one of my teammates shouted beside me, pulling me back into reality.

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