Page 31 of Their Obsession

“No clue.” I shrug as I slip my sticky, damp glove into place and fumble with the strap.

Volkkon skates by and the urge to leap from the bench and pummel him hits me like a freight train. I’ve never been a violent guy. I’ve never really felt the urge to hit someone. But I’ll make an exception to the nice guy rules if it means I get to punch the replaying image of that picture out of my mind.

“Maybe we show him he’s not the boss of this team then?” Max asks with a hint of mischief in his voice.

I side-eye from the seat next to him, “What do you have in mind?”

I know that look in his eye well. It’s his ‘fuck shit up’ look. Usually that means he has a very stupid plan.

“Just watch for your opening and show him you’re not to be fucking messed with.” He claps me on the shoulder as he stands and jumps the boards.

I follow suit, seamlessly gliding across the ice and back into practice. We’re running a scrimmage—four on four. Pucks on the other end of the ice. Volkkon nabs it off someone else’s stick and heads our way. Max turns and winks before skating forward to engage the Raging Russian. With a boldness that surprises even me, Max shoots out straight at the oncoming wall of muscular fury. They’re going to crash into each other.This is his fucking plan?At the last second before their collision, he shifts to the side, allowing his stick to hit the puck and send it ricocheting towards the sideboard.

“Shit!” Volkkon curses before slowing and turning to chase the loose puck.

He quickly picks up speed again as he heads towards the boards. I see it then—my opening. I take off after him, picking up as much speed as possible. I’m not really an enforcer, but I know damn well how to check a guy hard enough to teach him a lesson. And this fucker is certainly asking to be taught a lesson. The image of him in Lilly’s house flits across my vision as I careen towards him. He had no fucking right to come into our lives and blow everything up. He deserves my fury.

Sliding to the side slightly, I angle myself so that my shoulder will drive right up into him and send him crashing into the boards. I brace myself, then go for the kill shot. The impact is so strong that it nearly sends me flying. I feel the rippling waves of force throughout my entire body as I use every ounce of strength in me to shove the massive asshole into the hard surface of the boards with everything I have. He grunts in shock and pain. The sound is so masculine and painful that it sends tingles throughmy entire body. Volkkon immediately loses his footing, falling at my feet.Serves him fucking right.I swipe the puck and skate a few paces before sending it flying, straight onto the awaiting stick of my wing who goes skating off towards the net. A smug smirk spreads across my face. That felt fucking good.

My cocky satisfaction is immediately cut short when thick fingers wrap around my neck from behind. My windpipe is uncomfortably crushed as I throw down my stick and attempt to bring my hands up to my throat. With more force than I’ve ever felt, I’m thrown backwards, the hold on my neck being used to shove my head against the glass. The impact knocks the wind from my lungs, and I struggle to breathe as the hand re-wraps itself around my throat but from the front. My ears are ringing as I try to gather my bearings.

Volkkon stares down at me from above as he pins me to the boards with his hand around my windpipe. White hot rage swirls in his eyes as the cage of his helmet clashes with mine.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Rookie?” he snarls at me. I can hear some voices shouting in the background, but in this moment, it’s just the two of us.

“Stay the hell away from Lilly, asshole,” I choke out as much as I possibly can beneath his crushing hold on my throat.

I can hear the coaches’ whistles blowing and players yelling as they begin to notice what’s happening. In my periphery, I can make out their shapes skating towards us. But I don’t fucking care. Nothing matters right now except the man in front of me.

“Or what?” he counters as his grip on my throat tightens. I swear I feel his hips jerk against mine. The sensation causes my cock to stir uncomfortably behind my gear. What the fuck? “Are you going to teach me a lesson?” he eggs me on as he continues to sneer down at me. “Or maybe I need to teach you a lesson?” His hips jerk again; this time I’m certain of it.

What the fuck is he playing at?

“She’s with me,” I snarl.

He leans down close, so close that our cages nearly touch before he whispers in a low growl, “You think she’s yours, pretty boy? That you can keep a girl like her? She always has been, and always will bemine.”

His words turn my blood to ice. He may think she’s his, but I’m not a quitter. I fight for what I want.

“Get the fuck off of me and leave us alone. She’s happy with me. Let her be happy.” I cough and splutter to get out the words as he keeps me pinned against the glass.

Something about my words causes him to falter. Something I don’t recognize flashes across his eyes. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and my eyes follow the motion.

“And what if I can’t leave you two alone?” he whispers, almost desperately, before a rough hand on his shoulder rips him away.

I immediately slump forwards, desperately sucking in air as his grip on my throat disappears. We’re surrounded by the entire team. Players are hollering and yelling, but it all just sounds like background noise. My heart is beating so erratically it feels as though I might pass out. I’m lightheaded and the world is spinning slightly. I chance a glance up to see Volkkon being pulled back by two of our biggest players, each one holding one of his massive arms. His fists are bunched tightly at his side, the fingers that were around my throat just moments ago now turning white as they clench.

“Volkkon,” Coach hollers as he approaches the scrum looking livid. “Off the ice! You’re done for the day.”

Shirking off the men holding him back, he takes one final glance in my direction. Our eyes meet, and all I see is fire in his gaze. Then he swiftly turns and skates towards the tunnel. I let out a long sigh of relief.

“Make sure he changes and gets the fuck out of the building,” Coach hollers at one of the assistants before turning hisattention back to where I’m still standing, folded in two, and trying to catch my breath.

The other players slowly move back, allowing Coach Karr to approach. His sharp gaze assesses me for a moment. The tension is palpable. I swallow slowly, my throat burning from being crushed.

“Grab some water, then back on the ice,” Coach growls, and everyone seems to let out a collective sigh of relief.

The players disperse, skating off and into positions or to grab water from the bench. Some shooting each other questioning looks or whispering, but seeming to let it go.

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