So for Misha to be so relaxed about this…. Sasha couldn’t fathom it. Either he was being deceptive, or Sasha had vastly underestimated his rookie.
“What if—” He cleared his throat, took another sip of his drink. A glance around showed they were completely alone, even though they were speaking in Russian. “What if Alex and I were dating?”
Misha shrugged. “Good for you, I’d say. You’re too uptight, old man. Maybe a good fuck every once in a while will help you relax a little.”
At least this time Sasha only had air to choke on, instead of his sports drink. “Jesus, Misha. If I told your mother about some of the things you said….”
Misha laughed. “My mother played hockey as a young woman, and she married a hockey player as well. I don’t think anything I could say would surprise her.”
It was true. The Volkovs were Russian hockey royalty, and Maria Volkova could curse just as fluently as her male family members, given the right incentive.
They drank in silence for another minute. The yells and chirps of their teammates carried over the sand to them, and the ocean was a soft roar beneath that.
“You know, Sasha, it’s okay here to love another man. This is America; here you can love whoever you want… man, woman, even both—I hear that’s a thing. You can even love a P—”
He cut off suddenly, face going red.
Sasha turned, eyebrows going up. Misha was focused again on the game in progress, eyes fixed on the ball as it went back and forth over the net. He almost said more than he wanted to. He replayed Misha’s words. You can even love a Para. That’s what he was about to say, I’m certain.
He’d welcomed the rookie into his home when Misha had signed with the team, but he’d never seen any sign of his housemate dating anyone. Was he gay? Or was it something else?
Is he dating a Para?
Misha looked uncomfortable, shoulders up like he clearly didn’t want Sasha to talk about it any further. But Sasha needed to. The only person who knew about Alex—other than Shawn, who was angry at Sasha on behalf of his friend—was Eddie, and Sasha couldn’t trust him. But Misha—Misha, who might be in love with a Para himself, might be the only person in Sasha’s life who could understand.
“What if—” His voice was hoarse, and he whispered even though there was no way for anyone to hear or understand him. “What if I did love someone who was a man? And—and a Para?”
Misha jerked, like a lightning bolt had struck him head-on. His water slipped from his fingers, the half-empty bottle rolling a few inches before spilling out into the sand. Misha didn’t seem to notice.
“What are you saying, Sasha?” he asked. Every word was careful, precise.
“This is not my secret to tell,” Sasha said, “but I’m thinking maybe you’re the only person who can help me.”
“Sasha.”
“I think I’m in love with Alex,” Sasha said slowly. “And I think he’s a Para. No, I know he is. I confronted him about it, and now we’re no longer speaking.”
Misha turned his entire body, any pretense of watching the volleyball game abandoned. His eyes were wide, darting from side to side, and his entire body twitched slightly. “I think I’m going to need a little more than that.”
What was the English saying? In for a penny, in for a pound. It was a dumb saying, but at this point Sasha wasn’t sure he had any path except to push on forward. Eddie already knew, was already threatening to tear Alex’s entire world apart; surely telling Misha, who might actually be sympathetic, couldn’t be any worse?
So Sasha told him everything. He laid out the weird things he’d noticed about Alex, the burns and the mood swings, the way he dated Heather but still flirted with Sasha once they got to know each other. And he told Misha about the fight on the ice, and how Ed had discovered Alex’s secret, had revealed it to Sasha, hoping for support and encouragement in going to Coach Henrique until Sasha had convinced him to wait.
Through it all, Misha sat silently, shaking a little but otherwise watching Sasha, unmoving.
“I didn’t get a chance to explain to him what had happened,” Sasha concluded. “So he thinks I went to Ed, and that I’m going to be instrumental in him getting kicked off the team.”
When it was clear he was done, Misha deflated like a balloon, slumping forward. “Oh, Sasha. This is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into.”
Huh?
“Us?”
Misha looked up, and there was a strange glint of determination in his eye. “Yeah,” he said. “Us. The Paras of the NHL. If the team kicks Alex off before the season even ends, it’s going to give more strength to Commissioner Heatly’s resolution to do genetic testing.”
What. The. Hell?
“I—you—that is—”
Misha tilted his head to the side. A hint of his usual humor had appeared now, lips turning up at the corners. “What, you didn’t think your boyfriend was the only Para to play pro hockey?”
“You’re a—a—”
“A Para. Yes.” The grin appeared in full, but Sasha could still see the nervousness that lurked beneath it. “A werewolf, in fact.”
That was impossible. Волколак were violent, diseased, vicious beasts with no reason who would come for you and your children in the night. Misha was funny, immature, but ultimately a good man. He couldn’t be a werewolf.
Except вампиры are supposed to be evil, manipulative bloodsuckers who will hypnotize you and drain you dead, and Alex is nothing like that.
“A werewolf.” Sasha shook his head in disbelief. “You lived with me all season, but I never had any idea.”
Misha looked uncomfortable again. “Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? You couldn’t have any idea, because if you did, then anyone could find out. Right now, Para groups are fighting to get the vote canceled, but until that happens we’re all at risk of discovery.”
“How many?”
“Hm?”
Sasha blinked. “How many Para are in the NHL?”
“Oh.” Misha shrugged. “Lots. I don’t know. Werewolves like me, we all know each other, right? You can smell it, and it’s important to know where pack boundaries begin and end. And I’ve heard about others. But I won’t tell you any names,” he added defiantly.
“No, of course not.” A thought came to Sasha suddenly, and he laughed. “Oh, goodness. Your last name. Of course, it’s so obvious now.”
Волков and волколак. Put side by side and it was so obvious. The last name was rather common in Russia, but Sasha had never assumed that a man with the last name Wolf would be an actual werewolf.
“Hiding in plain sight, my papa likes to say.” Misha smiled. “So now you know.”
“Now I know.” Sasha dug his fingers into the sand, feeling the heat against his palm. “So….”
Misha reached out and put a hand on his knee. “So let’s figure out how to help you win back your love, and then we can figure out what to do about Ed and this entire anti-Para agenda, hm?”
Seattle Cascades (@CascadesNHL)
Finishing off our trip to sunny Florida with a win! The guys will bring home four out of six possible points from this trip, plus a few sunburns.
Mrs. Merkley… a girl can dream! (@MerkleyFan96)
can we please take a moment to discuss the many MANY photos of half-naked hockey players covered in sand that resulted from this trip? seriously @nhl thank you.
BY THE time the road trip finally came to an end, Alex felt like he was about to lose his mind.
The hunger was a living, visceral thing now, clawing at him every time he wasn’t in skates between the pipes. Even playing hockey was barely enough to keep it at bay, and the second he was back in the locker room, it was the only thing he could focus on once again.
“Phantom, dude, you really don’t look good.”
Shawn’s concern wasn’t helping. He hovered constantly, worry twisting up his scent and making it come off as faded and a little sour. He’d offered to let Alex feed a
gain, after the game against Florida, but Alex had just shaken his head.
The other thing that wasn’t helping was Sasha, who had somehow managed to increase the intensity of his staring. Every time Alex happened to look his way, Sasha would be focused on him. He didn’t seem eager, or even anxious; instead, he was patient, calm, like he was waiting for the right moment to approach—or, Alex thought bitterly, waiting until he noticed a moment of weakness so he could strike.
But Sasha hadn’t gone to Coach Rico yet, so Alex tried to push him to the side. There were more important things to focus on.
“You need a ride home?” Shawn asked, once the plane finally touched down in Seattle. Six days in the sunny South had done him wonders. His blond hair looked even brighter, and his skin had a hint of rich golden brown. Alex was envious but also relieved not to be sporting a wicked sunburn like some of the other guys.
“Heading straight to Heather’s,” he answered. “I shouldn’t be long, though. Want to order dinner, and we can eat when I get back?”
Shawn bumped fists. “Gotcha.”
He texted Heather as he got into an Uber, and she confirmed that she was home and ready for him. Then it was just a half-hour drive across the city, to the condo building and Heather’s door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I’m going to come right out and say that the fated mates plotline is one of my favorite tropes in romance. [I]t’s mostly prevalent in Paranormal romances or any other subgenre of romance that deals with the fantastical…. But I also suppose that’s part of the fun: physically powerful characters that are essentially powerless in the face of fate.
—Amanda Diehl, romance novel reviewer
“YOU’RE STARVING, aren’t you?”
Alex jerked. “How did you know?” He shook his head before she could answer. “I don’t know—I just fed on Sunday. It’s only Saturday. Six days. And I’m—” He cut himself off with a growl.
“You’re ravenous, as though you haven’t fed in weeks.” Heather spoke the words softly.
“Yeah.” It was a constant throbbing through his entire body, every waking second. “What’s going on?”
“You had sex with your Sasha.”
The words made Alex lift his head in confusion. “Yeah, a few times. So what? You know about that. We’ve been together since ’Scades and Skates.”
Heather sighed. “And that’s the problem. At some point since then, you fell in love with him.”
None of this was making any sense. “No, I didn’t.” He liked Sasha a lot, sure, but love? No way. He’d only been with Sasha for three weeks. But you were attracted to him the moment you laid eyes on him just after the New Year. And Sasha’s scent had teased his senses even when they didn’t get along.
I really like him. Alex frowned to himself. Liked, past tense. That wasn’t true, either. Even right now, in the midst of fear and uncertainty and the threat of betrayal, he still liked Sasha. He’s handsome; he’s kind and thoughtful. He has a sense of humor, and he was always trying to take care of me.
Something settled in the back of his mind, a puzzle piece fitting into place.
Heather laughed. “Yes, you’ve figured it out.”
Alex rubbed his eyes. “I’m not sure I can love him,” he confessed. “He… I’m going to get outed, lose my spot on the team, and it’s going to be his fault.”
She hissed in a breath. “What?”
“He figured out that I’m a vampire. Told his friend and mentor, who… well, his friend doesn’t like me. Thinks I’m a threat to his job. If he hasn’t told Coach yet, he’s going to, and it’s going to be Sasha’s fault.”
“Oh, Alex.” Heather rested a hand on his arm. “And yet, you do still love him, don’t you?”
It was a bitter truth, but Alex couldn’t deny it. “I think I do.”
Heather nodded. “And that’s the problem. That’s why feeding from me is no longer satisfying you.”
But that wasn’t possible. Alex knew the lore as well as anyone; he might only be a half vampire, but his parents had made sure that he knew his human and Para backgrounds thoroughly. “Are you talking about… what? Bonding? That’s something out of erotic vampire fiction and cheesy daytime soap operas.”
“Sure,” Heather said. “Except you’re in love with a human and can’t sate your hunger with anyone else. What would you call that?”
“A coincidence,” Alex said firmly. “People don’t actually bond, outside of, like, shifters who find mates or whatever. But vampires and fate? That’s a romance novel, not reality.”
Heather just stared at him, one eyebrow raised.
“There has to be some other explanation,” Alex insisted. “Even if it was a thing, I’m not even a full vampire.”
There was a glimmer in Heather’s eyes that was most definitely amusement.
“Heather, I’m not forming a bond with Sasha. I’m not.”
The amusement spread across the rest of her face, and Heather bit her lip as though trying to stop herself from laughing outright.
Alex sighed and fell back against the couch cushions. “You’re wrong.”
“Maybe,” Heather said. “Or maybe I’m not. Are you really going to starve yourself trying to feed on me, though, when it’s clearly not satisfying you anymore?”
The weight of the situation settled back on Alex’s shoulders. “What choice do I have?” he asked softly. “You can joke about mates all you want, but the fact is that I couldn’t drink from Sasha even if I wanted to.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.” Alex stared up at the ceiling, breathing in Heather’s scent. Even now, he couldn’t help but long for the woodsy, earthy scent that he’d grown so used to. “How can I trust him with something like this? He finds out I’m a vampire and can’t even keep it to himself before he’s telling someone about it. I can’t ask to feed from him, can’t be that… vulnerable, I guess.”
Heather made a low sound, then shifted closer and leaned back as well. Her long hair tickled his arm, and she was warm and soft and exactly the opposite of who he wanted beside him.
“I guess you can’t,” she said. “But that leaves the question of what are you going to do?”
“No idea.” Alex closed his eyes. “Keep feeding from you, if you’ll let me. Hope it gets better. Hope this bond—or whatever it is—goes away. Hope I can keep playing hockey and keep living my life. That’s all I can do.”
Heather took his hand, lacing their fingers together. It was an intimate gesture, but it felt more like the closeness of siblings than lovers. “You know I’m here for you. And you have other friends as well.”
Alex squeezed her hand. “Thanks. I mean it.”
But even with Heather’s nice words, he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Already he could feel the toll it was taking on his body… and he didn’t know how much longer he could last like this.
Ellen DeSmith (@EllenDeSmithESPN)
The Seattle Cascades could be this year’s come-from-behind miracle story. With six games to go in the regular season, can this team defy all odds and make the post-season? My analysis: bit.ly/g44lR….
“YOU CAN’T go to practice like this.”
Alex peered up at Shawn, bleary-eyed and feeling like death. “Yeah, I can.”
Shawn took a step to the side, moving between Alex and the coffee maker that he’d been stumbling toward. “No, Phantom, you can’t. You look like shit; you’re clearly exhausted. If you get on the ice in this state, you could really hurt yourself.”
Alex closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then he opened them again and drew on every meager ounce of strength he could manage. “I have to go to practice, Shawn,” he said slowly, “because I have to play tomorrow. Because I can’t give them even the slightest hint of an idea that something is wrong or that I can’t do my job.”
Shawn stared at him, then moved aside silently.
With a sigh of relief, Alex stepped forward to fill his mug with coffee and try to get himself
going for the day.
But as much as he hated to admit it, Shawn was probably right. He was lethargic and sore, like someone with the flu. He spent the car ride to the arena curled up in the passenger seat while Shawn hummed along to music and pretended like he didn’t notice.
He’d fed only the day before, but his body sure as hell didn’t seem to think so.
Thankfully, the cold, chemical-scented ice was enough to finish waking him up. He managed to summon enough energy for a full practice, even pulling out a few jokes and laughs when Bayer tried a fancy shoot-out move and failed epically. No one noticed that he was anything other than fine.
Except Shawn… and Sasha, who still kept watching and waiting.
The only time Alex made eye contact with Sasha, the other man looked worried. He mouthed the words You okay? at Alex, and Alex looked away without responding. But it spurred him to finish practice with as much normalcy as possible; if Sasha was looking and noticing, then it was possible someone else might as well.
After practice, a bunch of guys gathered around to make plans for a late lunch. Alex lumbered over to his stall, sat down, and closed his eyes for a second, listening to the chatter as restaurants were thrown around.
The next thing he knew, someone was sitting next to him and laughing.
“We wear you out so much that you can’t keep your eyes open?” Alex blinked awake and looked over to see Mikhail, half-undressed and covered in sweat but smiling cheerfully. “You fall asleep in here, someone gonna draw a dick on your face, you know?”
Alex huffed a weak laugh. “Just didn’t sleep well last night, I guess.” The lunch crowd had moved on to the showers, and he hadn’t noticed. “Thanks, I guess, for defending my face from Sharpies.”
“Anytime.” Mikhail grinned. “Hey, wanted to talk to you for a second, if it’s okay?”
Alex opened his mouth to say sure, but was cut off by a growl before he could.
“Misha.” Sasha’s low voice carried easily across the room. “Что не так с тобой?” He continued on in Russian, sounding a mix between lecturing and furious, and Mikhail went still and tense as he listened.
Suckerpunch Page 22