Devious Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)

“What are you wearing?” Willow screeches and throws her hands up to stop me from coming any closer.

I snort, plucking at the Knights’ jersey that Josh Maverick gave me last night. It’s the one they wear when they play at home, so it’s mostly red with white lettering. He’s number seven. His name is on the back of it, making no mistake exactly where I got it.

The fact that Thalia’s cousin goes to Smoke Valley and was able to get me the number of their best player is just another reason why I love her. And that he’d be willing to help me… although I heard what he and Steele were discussing afterward.

Luckily, I picked the best player for a reason. So even if Steele has some sort of vendetta, he won’t be so easily crushed.

I hope anyway.

Coming to the game tonight in general might’ve been a bad idea.

“It’s just a little motivation for O’Brien.” Violet slings her arm around my shoulders. “Greyson explained it. Right, Aspen?”

Oh, great. “Yep.”

I have a picture saved on my phone that I took while I was getting ready, but I’m not ready to send it yet. I won’t until just before the game, because the last thing I need is for Steele to try and get me to change.

Thalia is trying not to laugh at Willow’s mortified expression. Amanda, Jess, and Michelle join us, too, and they have mixed reactions. But Violet explains again, and they all go back to looking semi-normal.

We sit, and I pull out my phone. I’m sandwiched between Violet and Thalia.

Violet glances at the image, and she chuckles. “You’re dangerous.”

My face heats. I thought so, too, when I took the picture in my mirror. I’m only wearing the jersey, which is long enough that it just barely covers my ass. My body is tilted to show off the number and name on the back, as well as the bruise on my thigh.

May as well hit him with a double-whammy.

ME

[image]

Thanks for the fifty bucks, asshole.

The sad thing is, I actually did pay that much to borrow the jersey.

Worth it, though. It’s not like it was my money. This is as much Steele’s fault as mine.

And also, this is the first time I’ve texted him. I got his number from his dad before I left for college, and I never thought I’d use it. But then again, he wasn’t supposed to be the guy from the summer either.

Everything just got screwed up.

STEELE

You’re going to pay for that.

ME

You already did, so…

Hilarious. Hope you’re not too attached to his face.

What’s that supposed to mean?

I stare at my phone, but he doesn’t respond. My brow furrows. A minute later, the players are bursting out onto the ice. Someone drops a whole bunch of pucks down, and they begin to warm up. They move like a beehive—somehow in sync without visibly communicating. My gaze is drawn to Steele. He’s flicking a puck toward one of his teammates, paying no attention to the crowd.

All focus.

My heart skips when he skates by our section. Still, doesn’t even glance at me.

Which… what was I expecting?

“He’s pissed, huh?” Thalia whispers.

I laugh it off. They change to taking shots at the goal, the goalie leaving it wide open for them. There are two Whiteshaw jerseys out on the ice—Knox, one of the forwards, and Miles. The goalie. He’s covered in padding, per usual. I haven’t actually met Miles. Just his brother, who’s dating Willow.

Speaking of… “Do you guys actually like dating hockey players?”

Willow and Violet turn my way.

Willow smirks. “Yeah, it’s a rush.”

Violet rolls her eyes.

“They just seem so…” I shake my head, not wanting to offend.

“Arrogant?” Willow supplies.

“Hotheaded?” Violet guesses.

“Hot in general,” Willow adds.

“All of the above,” I mutter.

They both burst into giggles.

Violet grabs my hand and squeezes. “Yeah, it’s a little rough in the beginning.”

“Doesn’t help that my mom married his dad,” I say on a sigh.

They both freeze.

Oh, shit. I wasn’t supposed to say that.

“When did that happen?” Willow is leaning closer, almost in Violet’s lap. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Let’s just talk about how Steele O’Brien is her new stepbrother,” Violet murmurs. “Is that a forbidden fruit sort of situation?”

I frown. That hadn’t occurred to me.

Well, shit. Now it does.

I’ve been looking at Steele as anything but brotherly.

When I turn my attention back out onto the ice, Steele is stretching. He’s got both legs spread out on the ice, leaning forward and bracing his weight on his hands. He flexes his hips down, and damn it if it doesn’t look dirty.

“I love that one,” Violet murmurs to Willow.

Eventually, the players file off the ice and the Zamboni rumbles out. Violet glances at her phone, and her cheeks heat. I’m not that nosy, but I’m dying to know what sort of shit Greyson says to her.

“How’d Maverick look?” Thalia asks me.

I cringe. I hadn’t even checked the other side of the rink, where the opposing team was warming up. “Fine,” I lie. “Tip-top shape.”

Thalia rolls her eyes. “Liar,” she whispers. “Don’t worry, your secret obsession with your tormentor-slash-brother is safe with me.”

“He’s not my brother.”

Because, ew.

“Okay, okay, fine.”

I snap to attention when the players come back out, just the starters, and take their positions. They’re joined by a ref in the middle, and Knox and one of the Knights, in a white-and-red jersey, lean down.

The ref drops the puck, and the game begins.

My eyes lift to the suspended cube above our heads. It cycles through the players and statistics, with the time left in the period and scores underneath it in red.

The crowd is quieter than usual. The rough skating noises, the scrape of blades across the ice, is almost the loudest part. I find Josh, the Knight whose jersey I wear, and a second later he gets the puck. He skates furiously down toward our goal.

Steele comes out of nowhere. Josh passes it, but Steele still slams into him at full speed. They both crash into the glass on the opposite side.

I gasp.

Both players shove off each other and go their own ways—but moments later, the same thing happens. Josh gets the puck. Steele is right there, body-checking him. Maybe harder than is necessary—I don’t know.

It gets to the point where I ignore the rest of the game and solely track Josh around the rink. Not because I’m fixated on him, but because wherever he is, Steele doesn’t seem to be far behind.

By the end of the first period, my nerves are strung out.

The bell sounds, and I shoot to my feet.

“Are you okay?” Thalia asks.

Her voice sounds a million miles away. I wave her off and slip past her, hurrying up the aisle. Is Steele starting shit on purpose? Hunting after him because I’m wearing his jersey?

The thought is ridiculous.

The bet on who gets a shot with me, or whatever he said, is stupid enough. But this?

“How much for a blowie?” someone calls.

I ignore it and continue into the hall.

But then someone grabs my wrist and tugs me around, and I come face-to-face with… a complete stranger. Older, too. Definitely not a Crown Point student.

“I asked you a question.” His eyebrow raises. “How much?”

“Fuck off,” I snap and tug my wrist free. I hurry into the women’s bathroom and lock myself in the stall, fishing out my phone.

One new message. Not from Steele, though.

UNCLE

Your address was leaked online.

No directions after that, no advice. My breathing hitches at what that means. First the site, which must’ve gone viral before it was shut down, because I received about six hundred emails. Now this. Did Steele do this, too? I should go home and get the money. Thalia and I can stay in a hotel until we figure something else out.

If my address is out there, it isn’t safe.

Especially on the first floor, where anyone could break in through the windows. We lock them now, but didn’t Steele prove that it’s easy enough to get the screen off? And then how hard is it to use a screwdriver or something to break the lock?

I’m not a burglar. Unless we’re talking about the Crown Point Theater, obviously.

When I reemerge, the hallway is almost empty. The guy is still there, though. Lingering with a sick look in his eye.

My stomach turns, and I hurry back toward my section. I beat him there—barely—but he follows close behind me. The second period has started, the crowd on their feet. I feel almost invisible, except to the man intent on harassing me. He keeps up with me all the way down to the glass, where he finally makes another move.

“Come on.” He grabs my upper arm. His fingers dig into my skin. “You’re not supposed to fight it, right? I’m offering you cash.”

“Hey!” Something crashes into the glass.

The guy lifts his gaze, and his eyes widen.

I glance over my shoulder, too, surprised to see Steele there. He’s slamming the glass with both hands.

“You get your hands off her,” Steele shouts.

The guy, surprisingly, listens.

He backs up the aisle steps and turns around once he’s far enough away, hurrying away from us. I face Steele again, and he meets my eyes for a second before skating away.

“Holy shit,” Thalia says, standing to let me pass. “What was that?”

“Well, he was behind that shitty website that told the world I was a sex worker,” I grumble, practically falling into my seat. I’m more rattled than I’d care to admit. “It shouldn’t come as a surprise that more than just students saw it. That guy wanted to pay me to blow him.”

“Well, shit.”

Violet takes my hand and squeezes. “It’ll be okay.”

“I know.” I lift my chin and gently pull away. I’m all for comforting touches, but really—I’ve got enough on my plate without Steele making it worse. And now I have to tell Thalia that we can’t go home. That’s going to extra suck.

I refocus on the game.

The Knights have the puck. Someone passes to Josh, who dodges around Knox and Greyson. Someone tries to intercept him, and he leaps over their stick.

Steele is coming in fast, a look of determination visible even with the helmet blocking some of his features.

It seems that the Knight has had enough of getting smashed into, though, because he skids to a halt a second before Steele hits him. He gives Steele a check of his own, sending him into the glass in front of us. The wall shudders, and I try not to have a visible reaction.

The other defenseman tries to intercept, but for once, no one can touch him. Josh passes to another teammate, who flicks it into the goal.

It sails past Miles’ glove.

The horn goes off, and the red-and-white-clad crowd erupts into chaos.

The first goal of the game, and it goes to the Knights.