Page 30 of The Last Inch Of Ice
But Nazar stays silent. It’s none of his business. He has no claim on Kai.
Except, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he does. And that thought unsettles him more than he wants to admit.
Instead of asking, he talks about the game. “Thompson wants to run the cycle drill tomorrow morning. That means you need to be sharp on your transitions.”
“It’s the same drill we’ve been running all week,” Kai says flatly.
“Then you should have it down. Unless you’re too tired from—”
“Fuck off, Rykov.”
“Be at the rink at seven-thirty. Not eight. Seven-thirty.”
Kai’s laugh is bitter. “You’re not my keeper.”
“I’m aware.” Nazar’s voice is cold. “But if you show up hungover, or worse, the coach will bench you. And I’m not carrying the second line by myself.”
“How considerate. You care about my professional well-being.”
“I care about winning,” Nazar says.
Kai grabs his jacket and heads for the bathroom. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he says without looking back.
The door closes.
Nazar sits alone on the rumpled bed, his heart still hammering, his body still thrumming with adrenaline. He knows that tomorrow, all this anger—all this confusion and jealousy and desire—will translate into fury on the ice.
And Kai will know exactly why.
Nazar pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts Oksana:Don’t write anything about tonight.
She responds within seconds:Wasn’t planning to. You good?
Fine,he lies.
He’s not fine. He’s not fine at all.
But he’s also never been more certain about anything in his life. He’s not backing off, not after tonight.
9
Chapter 9 Kai
Kai watches Nazar from the bench.
He plays with brutal intelligence. The way he reads the ice, anticipating plays three seconds before they happen. The way he accelerates without warning, catching defenders off-guard. The focus in his expression—absolute, unwavering, total.
Wave after wave of something rises in Kai’s chest. Anger. Tension. Malice. Maybe something else underneath, something he doesn’t have a name for.
He can’t remember ever feeling this many things, this intensely, about anyone.
Rykov is a damn hypocrite, and there are few qualities Kai despises more. And yet—the most painful, most paradoxical thing is that since he first saw Nazar, he has never stopped thinking about him. Not once. Not for a single day.
He knows his own tendency to become addicted. It’s why he never indulges in serious drugs. Because he knows what he’s like once he latches onto something—he can’t let go. Can’t moderate.
And Rykov is like a drug. A very large, very angry drug with dark eyes and a contempt that cuts deeper than anything he’s experienced.
Kai shouldn’t give in to his reactions. Shouldn’t let it consume him. But since last night—since the private room, since Rykov’s hands on him, since that moment of vulnerability—it’s become unbearable.
