Page 7 of Beautiful Venom

This must be what it feels like to be iced alive.

I shake the image from my head. This is Kane, not Preston, or God forbid, the wild card Jude. He’s my best—andonly—option.

“Yeah,” I continue in a more confident tone. “I’m a new fan. I didn’t know much about hockey before, but I’m learning more because of the team. Go Vipers!”

“I’m happy we could lure you into the game.” His words sound calm. Like an undisturbed ocean.

Right.

That’s the vibe Kane has always given. Deep, controlled, and reliable. An ocean in all its glory.

“You did me the greatest favor.” I smile wide. I’ve always heard I have a beautiful smile and I don’t mind using it to my advantage. Beggars can’t be choosers, and I’m definitely a beggar in this situation.

“Who’s your favorite player on the team?”

“You,” I say with no hesitation.

“Are you sure you’re not saying that just because I’m here? If Callahan shows up, you’ll switch, won’t you?”

“Callahan is too aggressive and violent in his play. I don’t find that entertaining.”

“Most hockey fans do.”

“Not me. I prefer your tactical prowess and your seamless ability to lead both in offense and defense.”

“I’m flattered. Thank you.” His voice remains the same. Unaffected, cool. He certainly doesn’t sound flattered, or maybe he’s been praised so many times before that his responses have become mechanical.

“No, thank you for taking the time to talk to me. It’s hard to run into you on campus, so this means so much to me.”

Gag.I’m not used to praising strangers this extensively. I’m starting to cringe.

“Anything for a fan. If you want an autograph, all you have to do is come closer. Itrulydon’t bite.”

That’s when I realize I’m still nestled behind the row of plastic seats, gripping one of them so tightly that my fingers hurt. I release it and slowly take the steps down.

The entire way, Kane’s gaze is pinned on me.

It’s not threatening per se, but it’s intense, like when he’s reading his opponents on the ice. That should feel like a compliment, but I’ve watched this man crush so many of his rivals, the attention shoots a wave of unease through me.

I stop in front of him, and he stands to his full height. I’m not sure whether the gesture is meant to intimidate me, but I might have underestimated how tall he actually is. Add the skates and he’s downright towering over me.

Up close, his jaw is sharper, his skin smooth except for some stubble. And his eyes are paler, much colder. Slightly disturbing, even.

He carries himself effortlessly with complete and utter ease.

I’m actually envious. How can someone be so…self-confident? So self-sufficient?

“Can I take a rain check on the autograph?” I say to murder the invisible tension. “I don’t have a pen or paper.”

“How about a picture, then?”

“That would be amazing.” I fumble in my back pocket and retrieve my phone, then click on the camera.

Due to the height difference, I can’t get a good angle.

“May I?” he asks after watching me struggle for a few seconds.

I hand him the phone with an apologetic smile and lean closer so he can take the picture. A whiff of woodsmoke and the faintest trace of musk flood my senses.

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