Page 5 of Slash Me Savagely

He turned to me with that icy stare, and again, there was that pulsing, that awareness.

“Nice to meet you,” he said smoothly, extending his hand toward mine. The moment our palms met sent a jolt through me—a thrum of electricity that caught me off guard.

I felt my cheeks heat as I shook his hand, trying not to dwell on how warm and strong it felt against mine.

“You survived the game,” he said with a heavy Russian accent. “That’s impressive.”

“I’m still not sure if I’m traumatized or exhilarated,” I replied, managing to keep my voice steady despite my racing heart.

“Exhilarated is definitely the right choice.” He leaned slightly closer as he spoke, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “It gets better from here, I promise you."

His gaze held mine longer than necessary—an unspoken connection sparking between us.

Was I being crazy?

Did he feel it too?

The moment hung in the air like a secret, and I couldn’t help but feel that everything else faded into the background. Rob’s voice became a distant murmur as I locked eyes with Matt. His gaze felt like a brand, searing itself into my memory—an imprint I doubted I’d ever shake off.

“Gemma!” Rob interrupted, waving his hands animatedly. “Did you see that last play? It was insane! I mean, Sokolov here was like a freight train! Just plowed right through them!”

I nodded mechanically, still caught in the web of Matt’s stare.

Matt's expression remained steady, his lips slightly curved at the corners as if he found something amusing in our banter. The crowd buzzed around us—other players, fans laughing, the echoes of conversations swirling—but it felt as if we were encapsulated in our own little bubble.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice quieter than intended. “You really had a game tonight.”

Rob continued to ramble on about statistics and highlights, his enthusiasm infectious yet strangely irrelevant in that moment. All I could focus on was Matt's intensity—how it seemed to draw me in deeper.

“I don’t think anyone expected you to pull that off so effortlessly,” Rob prattled on, oblivious to the tension coiling between Matt and me. “I mean, look at the size of these guys! You just... smashed through them!”

Matt didn’t break eye contact with me; his blue eyes sparkled with mischief and something else I couldn't quite place.

“Yeah, well,” he finally replied. “Sometimes you have to take risks.”

His words resonated deep within me. It wasn’t just about the game; it felt personal, like he was saying more than what lay on the surface.

“Right?” Rob chimed in enthusiastically. “That’s what makes you a legend! You’re fearless out there!”

Still locked in that gaze, I hardly registered Rob's excitement until he nudged my shoulder gently.

“Gemma? You okay?”

I blinked and turned toward him for a brief moment before glancing back at Matt. His expression hadn’t changed—still focused, still unwavering—and something stirred within me that made my heart race.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I’m good.”

Rob kept talking; I barely heard him now. My world had narrowed down to this single moment with Matt—a tattoo inked deep into my thoughts as if it would linger long after this night faded into memory.

Chapter 4

Matt

Once the last of the season ticket holders shuffled out, the locker room felt heavier. Alaric Knightly stood at the front, arms crossed, his dark attire blending into the shadows. He was like a specter, sharp features illuminated by the overhead lights. His gaze swept across us, piercing and calculating, reminiscent of a ravenous hawk sizing up its prey.

“Listen up,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You’ve fought hard this season. But hard work isn’t enough if you don’t know how to harness it.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air. I leaned forward, eager for more but caught in my own thoughts. “If you want to win,” he declared, “you must want it more than your opponent.”

His eyes fixed on me again, unwavering. The challenge stirred something deep inside—a fire ignited by the image of Gemma watching from the stands.

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