Suckerpunch

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Suckerpunch Page 5

by Elyse Springer


  LIKE ANY good Cascades player, Sasha hated Vancouver. It was practically a requirement of being on the team. Even one of their rookies, Braiden Rager, had accepted and given in to the pointed hostility, despite the fact that he was from the Vancouver area and had played in the WHL before being drafted. The rivalry was fierce, and more than a few games involved punches being thrown.

  That animosity, Sasha told himself later, was the reason he reacted the way he did when that asshole Bilovsky skated toward the net fast and stopped on a dime just outside the blue paint, spraying Fanning with a thick wave of ice shavings.

  Sasha was certain that it had been entirely on purpose, and the mean smirk on Bilovsky’s face only confirmed it.

  He couldn’t help himself—he saw red. After the game he’d justify it to himself that Bilovsky was a thug and a bully, that he had no talent whatsoever and was only kept around by Vancouver so he could drop gloves. It had nothing to do with the way Fanning had looked afterward, shocked and furious. Sasha would do the same for any of his teammates, even the ones he didn’t like.

  So he skated forward and shoved Bilovsky in the chest.

  Bilovsky pushed him back.

  Distantly he was aware that Fanning was cursing at them both, and that play had continued to go on while the two of them tangled in front of the crease. He could hear a ref yelling at them to knock it off, but Bilovsky had one glove tangled in Sasha’s jersey, and a look in his eyes that said he was ready to drop gloves and go.

  One second Sasha was shaking his wrists and loosening his gloves—

  The next, there was a siren going off, and the lights behind the goal were illuminated.

  What the…. Sasha froze, not entirely sure what had happened. He looked over and saw Fanning on his knees, still hovering in the middle of the net. The puck sat behind him on the ice, accusingly.

  The Vancouver players were celebrating. Bilovsky smirked, then untangled himself from Sasha and skated off to join in the celebration, leaving Sasha alone in his own crease with a dejected goalie at his side.

  Oh no.

  Sasha looked up at the clock. The score was now 2-1 Vancouver, with less than two minutes to go in the game. He looked back down at Fanning, and was almost taken aback by the icy look being leveled at him through the goalie’s mask.

  For a second, Sasha considered apologizing. But then Fanning looked away, his entire body stiff.

  Whatever, Sasha told himself. Not my problem.

  While the scrum in front of the net was almost certainly a response to Bilovsky spraying goaltender Fanning with a shower of ice, it’s clear that Petrov once again let his temper run away from him. The defenseman has racked up an impressive 42 PIM at the halfway point in the regular season, including two fighting majors. But while tonight’s overreaction didn’t result in a trip to the penalty box, it did result in a goal and the loss of two points for the Cascades.

  —Sharon Zurasky, CascadesFanReaction.net

  THE FINAL buzzer sounded a few minutes later and dejected fans filed out of the arena. The Cascades looked equally upset as they made their way back to the locker room.

  But Alex was too angry to be sad… and too hungry to rein his anger in.

  “What the hell was that?” Alex stomped into the locker room and aimed straight for Petrov’s stall like a heat-seeking missile. He was distantly aware that the rest of the locker room had gone quiet, even the muted buzz of conversation dying away. But his heartbeat was pounding in his ears, and Alex was hungry, and he’d just lost his first ever NHL game because some asshole couldn’t control his temper and had to start a kindergarten shoving match right in front of his net.

  “It’s always the quiet ones who blow up when you least expect ’em to.” Seth Bayer’s words were amused but too loud in the dead silence that had filled the room.

  Alex pulled back and realized abruptly that he’d said that entire last part aloud. He flushed but wasn’t ready to let go of the anger yet. “I don’t care if you want to drop gloves and brawl like it’s the 1990s again,” he said, staring up at Petrov and letting every ounce of disappointment and upset fill his glare, “But you keep that shit out of my crease. Got it?”

  Petrov stared back, face unreadable.

  When it became clear that he wasn’t going to get an apology—or, hell, any reply at all—Alex let out a rushed, angry breath and turned to make his way back to his own stall.

  He bent his head over, focusing on untying his pads and skates and stripping down as quickly as he could. Eventually, conversation picked back up again. Coach Henrique came in to talk to them, a short speech that was half “I’m disappointed” and half “You did a good job, though.” Alex didn’t pay much attention, just threw his dirty Under Armour in one of the laundry bins and rushed into the shower before the press came in to start their postgame interviews.

  Shawn was waiting for him when he emerged, though.

  “That was a bit harsh, eh?”

  Alex paused in the process of pulling his shirt off its hanger, closing his eyes briefly. “Yeah, I know.”

  Shawn huffed a laugh. “But you weren’t wrong.”

  “Yeah, I know that too.” Alex pulled his shirt on, fingers numb as he tried to button it up. “Are the guys pissed at me?”

  “Pissed? Nah.” Shawn laughed, and Alex finally lifted his eyes to look at him. “Entertained maybe. You’re so quiet normally, I don’t think anyone expected that out of you.”

  Alex found his pants and finished getting dressed. “Sorry.” He dug out his phone and exhaled an audible sigh of relief when he saw the text waiting for him on the lock screen.

  Shawn leaned closer to take a look, and Alex tilted the screen to let him, inhaling deeply as he did so. The fresh scent from Shawn helped the last dregs of his anger to drain away. “Wait, have you not—” He cut himself off, looking around the room, then lowered his voice. “Phantom, bro, have you not fed since you got called up?”

  “When would I have had time?” Alex glanced down at the text again, a message from Luis in Portland who had been one of his steady blood sources for a couple of years. Found you someone. Call her. She said she’s available tonight. The name and number that followed were the best things Alex had seen in days. “I can’t just go up to a random person and ask for a nibble. I had contacts in some AHL team cities, but that doesn’t help much now that I’m not in the A.”

  His friend looked horrified. “But it’s been two weeks.” A pause, then, “I guess that explains the yelling before, though. Hangry, right?”

  “Ha. Yeah, something like that.” Alex rolled his shoulders, feeling his muscles protest. “I was starting to get pretty desperate. Look, I’m gonna rush out of here before I get roped into doing any media. If anyone is looking for me….”

  “I’ll cover for you.” Shawn bumped fists with Alex. “Go, feed. Stop being a moody dick.”

  Alex grinned and escaped before anyone else could stop him.

  HEATHER WAS tall, blonde, absolutely stunning, and surprisingly cheerful for a woman who was about to let someone bite her neck. She was also, Alex realized with a start, a succubus.

  “And you’re a vampire,” she responded with a smile when he said that aloud.

  Alex grimaced but didn’t correct her. It didn’t matter what percentage of him was Para or human tonight; for all intents and purposes, he was a vampire, and he was going to drink blood like one.

  Feeding had always been something Alex enjoyed, and he knew it was equally appealing to the person he was feeding from. Normally he tried to savor the experience, like eating a decadent dessert, but tonight he just wanted to get it over and done with. He followed Heather into her lavish apartment, toeing his shoes off politely at the door even though he didn’t plan to stay any longer than he had to.

  “So,” Alex began awkwardly. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks and hunched his shoulders forward, feeling out of place in his suit. “Luis didn’t mention how much—”

  Heather inte
rrupted, flashing pearly white teeth as she grinned. “Oh, I don’t do this for human currency.”

  “What other currency is there?”

  That earned him a laugh. “You feed on blood. I feed on… emotions.”

  Oh. Alex flushed, heat rushing to his face. “You mean sex.”

  Heather shook her head. “Not just sex. Any strong emotion will do. While you drink from me, I skim off the top of whatever recent emotions you’ve experienced. Mutually beneficial, and everyone goes home happy.”

  Alex twisted his hands in his pockets but nodded. “Yeah, all right.” He trusted Luis, who had been his friend and feeding source for almost the full three years that he’d been in Portland, and he knew Luis wouldn’t send him to someone who could hurt him. “Can I…?”

  “Oh, sure! Let’s move to the couch; it’ll be more comfortable.”

  Heather led him into the living room, tying her hair up in a bun on her head while they walked. She was dressed like she’d been expecting him, wearing a tank top that left her long neck and tanned shoulders exposed.

  Alex shrugged his suit jacket off and laid it over the back of the couch, then rolled his sleeves up to his elbows before joining her. “How do you want to do this?”

  “Like this.” Heather leaned back against the cushions and tilted her head to the side, drawing Alex to her with one arm around his waist. She smelled like saffron, dark and sweet. Usually the smell would have been appealing, but tonight….

  He thought about the earthy scent that had plagued him for the last week every time he stepped foot into the arena, and scowled.

  “Okay, yeah. Whatever you’re thinking about right now?” Heather’s eyes fluttered shut. “Damn, that’s nice. Let’s get this show on the road, vamp boy.”

  With the invitation hanging between them, Alex stopped resisting and gave in. Heather was warm and soft, and he brushed his lips over the pulse on her throat before moving down to the spot where her neck and shoulder came together and the veins sat just beneath the skin.

  And then he bit in.

  Feeding was one of his few pleasures in life, outside of hockey. It wasn’t usually sexual, but there was a genuine satisfaction in sating the hunger that always lingered in the back of his mind. Heather gasped beneath him, and he knew she was enjoying it as well, could imagine the languid sensation that was settling over her.

  One second he was thinking about saffron and spice, and the way her smaller body fit beneath his. And then Alex was thinking about how wrong it felt, how he’d rather have hard muscles leaning over him, pushing him down, the rich, tantalizing smell surrounding him while he drank from—

  No. Alex shifted, swallowing and feeling Heather hum in contentment under him. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about how incredible he smells, how he looks so damn good even when he’s angry. Especially when he’s angry.

  Heather moaned. It wasn’t an erotic noise, but instead like someone taking a bite of an expensive dessert.

  Would Sasha sound like that if I drank from him?

  But as much as Petrov’s scent called to him, the man himself left a sour taste in Alex’s throat that even Heather’s rich blood couldn’t erase. Shawn had mentioned in passing that Petrov and Despres, the goalie who Alex was filling in for, were incredibly close friends. It was obvious that Petrov disliked Alex—Because he thinks I’m not good enough to be here? Or because he thinks I’m taking over for his friend? Either way, Petrov’s mere existence was infuriating, driving Alex crazy every time he caught the defenseman glaring at him.

  He finished drinking from Heather, pulling his fangs back and pressing his lips to her neck until the bleeding stopped. The wound closed up almost immediately, as it always did, leaving behind only a small bruise that would be gone by morning.

  Heather’s skin looked flushed when he pulled away, and her eyes were bright as they met his own.

  “Did you get what you needed?” he asked.

  “I did.” Heather looked curious. “Whoever you were thinking about tonight….” She shook her head with a laugh. “Sweetie, you need to sort out what you’re feeling there. Your emotions were all over the place.”

  Alex exhaled. “He’s—it’s complicated.”

  “It always is. But either hate him or fuck him, is all I’m saying.”

  Succubi. Alex rolled his eyes and huffed out a laugh of his own. “Yeah, I don’t think the second one’s going to happen. For one thing, he’s a he. For another, he’s human… and he hates me.”

  She winced. “You’re an athlete, right? Luis mentioned. Hockey?”

  “Yeah. With the Cascades. They can’t know that I’m—”

  “Gay?”

  “Or Para.”

  Heather sat for a moment in silence. “Look, Alex, I like you. You’re sweet. And you’re a damn fine meal. I don’t get to feed on other Paras often, you know? Mostly around Seattle you get nymphs or dryads, and they’re like drinking milkshakes three meals a day.”

  “Too sweet?”

  She made a face. “Tooth rotting. No depth at all.” She tapped the spot on her neck where the bruise was already fading, clearly thinking. “But given who I am, feeding off humans is almost impossible.”

  Alex blinked. “Given who you are?”

  Heather’s lips twisted in amusement, and her eyes crinkled like she was holding back a laugh. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

  “Uh, no?”

  She stretched slowly, then pushed herself off the couch and walked across the living room to a shelf full of books and magazines. She selected one at random and flipped through it until she found whatever she was looking for.

  When she passed the magazine to Alex, he glanced down and was surprised to see an advertisement for a television show on the page, featuring Heather and a handsome blond man in police uniform.

  “You’re an actress.”

  “Yes.” Heather tapped the page. “I have a good career. I enjoy what I do. But I can’t feed as often as I’d like, because people know who I am. I don’t want to get called out as a Para any more than you do.”

  Alex glanced back down at the page and waited.

  “You need to feed every couple of days, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Every three or four days would be ideal, but whenever I’m not on the road for sure.”

  “The same for me. So I’m thinking maybe we have a solution that covers all of our bases.” Heather sat up straight. “Let’s date.”

  Alex’s brain skidded to a halt. “What? Look, you’re gorgeous, but I don’t… I mean, I’m gay. So.”

  Heather tilted her head in obvious amusement. “Yes, I gathered as much. I mean, we make it look like we’re dating. We’re both Para, so we can handle feedings even more regularly without negative side effects if needed, and an exclusive feeding arrangement when you’re in town means neither of us risk getting outted. Plus, you can tell your teammates that you have a girlfriend. It’s a win-win for both of us.”

  “I don’t—” Alex paused, the words sinking in. It made sense and gave him a steady blood source. It wouldn’t look suspicious if he met up with Heather once or twice a week, especially if they sometimes went out in public to have dinner, or if she came to one of his games.

  “Yeah, okay,” he finally said. “You have a deal.”

  Chapter Six

  Seattle Cascades (@CascadesNHL)

  Tonight it’s #TealAndWhite versus #TealAndOrange here in Seattle as we take on San Jose. We’re ready for another West Coast battle!

  Chelsea in SEA (@ChelSEA_Scades)

  Wish they’d give Fanning another chance in net tonight… feel so bad for the guy after that crappy goal against in the last game. I liked what I saw from him, I think he’ll be a really good backup for us.

  THEY HAD a day off after the Vancouver game, with a mandatory practice in the morning. Sasha kept his head down while they were on the ice and put himself through a solid workout in the gym after. No one said anything to him about what had happened th
e previous night, but he caught a few glances, especially from some of the younger guys who had already started to bond with Fanning.

  It didn’t help that Shawn was his usual self after practice, talking nonstop. Sasha tried to tune him out, especially once Shawn got on the subject of Fanning and their teenage exploits. Sasha rolled his eyes and pointedly taped a couple of new sticks while Shawn rambled on about their time rooming together in the USNTDP. If he screwed up the tape job because Shawn started talking about the time he dared Fanning to go skinny dipping, well… it was just because he was annoyed by the chatter. That was all.

  There was an itch between Sasha’s shoulder blades by the time he left the arena, and he was happy to escape for the day, a slow simmering anger resting right beneath his skin. I’ve been on this team for five years; some kid who’s been here for five minutes has no right to get pissy with me. The others will see soon enough that Fanning doesn’t belong on this team, if he treats people that way all the time. He drove straight to the hospital, bypassing the nurses’ station once again to find Ed in his room.

  “Sasha!” Ed greeted him with a wide smile as soon as he walked in. “I’m glad you came back.”

  At least someone is happy to see me. Sasha returned the smile. “Said I would.” He pulled up the chair again and flopped down into it. “How’re you feeling?”

 

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