Page 141 of Heartless Game

I wanted him, all versions of him.

“Yes, Isaac, I’ll marry you,” I said, moving toward him and holding out my hand so he could slide the ring over my finger.

“Good,” he told me. “Because I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

“But what about the family? What about?—”

“Liza is taking over, thank fuck,” he said. “I’m giving up all of it. None of it means anything if I have to live without you.”

“I can’t live without you either,” I said.

“Good.”

And with that, he kissed me, a kiss that made every other kiss he’d ever given me pale in comparison. The room spun around us, gravity gave up the fight, and it was like I was floating in his arms as they tightened around me. What once felt like a prison was now my safe haven; nothing and no one would ever, ever, tear us apart again.

Finally, he pulled away. And a dark smile spread across his face, popping out his dimples.

“You know what I want you to do next, don’t you, little journalist?”

I nodded, already feeling breathless.

“Good.” He rose, setting me on the floor, and crossing his arms. “I’ll give you a sixty-second head start, and you better move fast, because the second I catch you, I’m going to shove my dick inside that tight cunt so hard and so deep, you’ll feel me forever. Now,run.”

My feet pounded down the stairs as I raced to the first floor and out of the house, ripping off my clothes as I went. The driveway passed behind me, Isaac close behind, and then I was in the trees, darting through the forest, bare feet catching on rocks and twigs, but I didn’t care, didn’t care, didn’t feel the pain, because all I felt was elation as I ran and the love of my life chased me.

And then he caught me, shoving me down in the dirt and following me down. I was already so wet, and he grunted in pleasure as he shoved my legs apart. And then he was inside me, as hard and deep as he promised, no, harder and deeper, fucking me and fucking me and making love to me and loving me, and I fucked him and made love to him and loved him right back, forgetting everything but the hot, hard, thick feeling of him inside me, his body covering mine, until nothing existed in the world.

Nothing but my monster and me.

EPILOGUE ONE

Isaac

It felt good to be back out on the ice. Especially now that the name displayed on my jersey was SILVER. My redone tattoo on my back—of living, thriving vines climbing up and over the wall on my back, vines that spelled outbashert—may have been hidden by my jersey, but I was always aware of it—just like I was always aware ofher.

I had Tovah to thank for all of this. Not only for giving me back my life, but myself, as well. The tattoo was a reminder of what I had in my life now—freedom to choose my own fate with the woman I loved by my side. I thanked her, multiple times, mostly with my head between her thighs as she cried my name. It was my favorite way to show my gratitude. And even though I’d missed the draft, I was a free agent and could still join the NHL. According to coach, recruiters had been asking around. It was good, and not only because I would finally get to play hockey professionally. Liza had followed through on her warning: I was cut off financially from the family, and I was determined to make sure Tovah and her mom grew accustomed to the best life possible.

For now though, I no longer had the weight of my father’s crown hanging around my neck. Liza was having some difficulties bringing the family around, but my sister was smart, resourceful, and always had a plan. That was her business—mine was winning the Frozen Four for my team—and my fiancée.

She sat in the stands next to her mother, hair a radiant millennial pink—a color I’d grown obsessed with—her fingers typing away at her phone as she wrote an article—her last ever article—forThe Daily Queen. She was still the same distraction she’d always been, but it was easier to focus, knowing she was safe, and more importantly, that she was mine.

The Kings were playing the best game we’d ever played. It was like we were one on the ice, flying across the rink and passing the puck, not letting the opposing team get close to it. The puck was ours. The game was ours.

The cup would be ours, too. Especially now that I was fully healed and not only allowed, but able to play.

Jack passed me the puck, and I slapped it into the net.

After the next puck drop, I passed the puck to Jack, only for the other team’s defense to slam him into the boards.

But he regained control of the puck, and the two of us skated in sync toward the goal, and I watched as my best friend executed the slapshot of his life, and the puck flew into the net, right past the goalie.

The horn sounded.

We’d won.

We’d won the cup.

My team was screaming, and so was the crowd, exhilarated and celebrating the win, but I only cared about one thing—my woman, engagement ring on her finger, waiting in the stands.

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