Page 47 of Just One Bite
He’s quick with it and hits the puck between two other teammates and passesthem on the left, taking it right to the goal.
Finally.
I’m about to go get it when Zant blocks me.
“Didn’t we talk about this?” I say.
I give him one more second to move out of my way. Threaten a man with an ass kicking and that should be enough.
“We’re tied now. Gotta do what I gotta do.”
“Bad move.” I grit my teeth and rush him till his skates lose contact with the ice and we’re crawling and fighting for leverage.
Meeting your match on the ice is tough. When someone knocks you onto the ice, you have twenty seconds to get up. If the person who tackles you is able to keep you down, well—
The whistle blows, and the coach points to center ice. “Parker and Zant, in the circle.”
I wink at Zant and yank him back to his feet, knowing I’m about to kick his ass. When the score is tied and you can keep your opponent down for more than twenty seconds, it triggers a riot play. A play I’m always trying to trigger because it ends the game early.
Whoever challenges and wins, will end the tie and the game.
I strip my gloves, and my skin itches with the coming shift. Weres are only permitted to shift up to fifty percent during games unless there’s a riot play against another Were opponent. That keeps things equal. Also, werewolves have trouble with traction on the ice in shifted form. I tried it once and laughed with my teammates on how ridiculous it looked on video.
Zant sighs. “I didn't want to spend all my time in recovery today, but here we go.”
We’ve been doing this dance since we were kids. Zant is one of the first people who ever saw me shift. It’s only fitting he helps me train while I kick his ass every day in practice.
Because of Rage, shifting is as natural as breathing. My fingers shift into claws, and hair coats my arms. Our bodies collide in a final riot play, and every strike counts.
Last year, I was elected captain at the end of the year when our previous captain graduated. Zant was ecstatic. He’d seen it coming, but I didn't. I have the C on my uniform, but it’s like I’m wearing a costume. Our team this year is at adisadvantage. For one, there are no pack affiliations. All the previous successful teams at Doxlothia were stacked teams, where the majority of the players were part of the same pack or part of two coworking packs. Now it’s just me, a few lone wolves, and a few vampires like Zant.
Zant is bad at scrap work with Weres, which is exactly why I needed to trigger the play so he can practice.
I’m left-handed and so I leave my right side open for him to make it an easy blind spot. But he’s too slow. I clock him with a claw to the face and lunge to tackle him to the ice. We trade a few blows, and he clocks me in the jaw.
“Enough. Parker’s game,” Coach Zepheus calls. “Honestly, boys. What was that? I’ve never seen you guys less cohesive. You need to communicate more. Owens, come see me.”
I stand and leave my arm out to help Zant up, and he slips on his own blood. “Aw, buddy. I went easy on ya.”
“Shut the fuck up, Owens.” He winces.
“It’s Captain here, bud.”
He flips me off. Gotta say, I enjoy the one and only time I’ve ever had any authority over him.
I skate over to Coach with my tail between my legs because I already know what he’s going to say. Practice was a shitshow. Coach Zepheus is a big, burly Were with a two-year-old daughter who comes to visit him nearly every day. She’s practically our mascot at this point. I kinda wish she was here right now because he’s less inclined to rip me a new one when she’s tugging on his leg.
“What’s up, Coach?”
“You saw what I saw out there. You tell me.”
“There’s a lot of new guys on the team this year. We’re still learning how to work together.”
“You’re right, and it’s up to you to lead them. Your predecessor believed you could do this.”
That, he did. At least someone did. My dad had barely bothered to change his tone when I told him I’d been picked as the team captain.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”It was loud on the other line, and I could barely hear him.
