“I don’t really think I should skate today.”
Laughing, he squares his shoulders. If the look on his face is anything to go by, he was expecting this. “I’ve already taken the liberty of renting you a pair of skates.”
I let out a horrified groan at the idea of renting skates. My horror escalates when I see the pair of skates that he is referring to, on the bench with his backpack. “I can’t wear those!”
“I think you’ll find you can,” he says coolly, “and more importantly, you will.”
“What if they don’t fit?”
“The rental skates are spelled to magically re-size to fit the wearer.” He sounds far too pleased with himself. Anyone would think he spelled the skates himself.
“They’re hockey skates!”
“Not for long,” Garrick says proudly. “According to the rental girl, once they’re on your feet, they’ll become whatever you require.”
“What if I just need a pair of running shoes to escape from you?” I ask, sarcasm dripping from every word.
“No such luck. There’s no getting away from me, not until you’ve won the world championship.”
With a grimace, I pick up the skates. Might as well get on with it. “When can I get my skates back?”
“I already told you.” Garrick is impatient again. “It’s going to take at least a week.”
“Can’t we take a holiday?”
“Do you think Addie Ravenwood is taking a break?”
That question is definitely rhetorical. The reigning champion will be hard at work, perfecting her form, because she has every intention of taking the trophy again this year, for the fourth time. Either that or bribing the judges if the rumors I’ve heard about her are true. Although that seems unlikely. I’ve seen her skate enough times to know that she’s a damn good skater.
But I’m better. I just need the right rink to prove it.
Sitting down on the bench, I watch with amazement as the skates transform from the ugly hockey skates I had been holding into a much nicer pair of figure skates. They’ve still got that over worn look that rented skates get with a splash of green neon paint near the blade on the right boot and the left lace is ripped slightly. I certainly wouldn’t like to give them a sniff, but I have to concede that they will do the job.
In no hurry to go out on the ice without my own skates, I take my time putting them on, my eyes roving over the rink as I do. A small smile curves my mouth when I spot the small girl from the other day. My eyes immediately search for her father, but I can’t find him anywhere. For some strange reason, I feel a twinge of disappointment.
My cheeks warm just at the thought of how he’d helped me up off the ice.
It’s not often I get to play the part of a maiden in distress, mostly because at least on the ice, I’m pretty competent. If someone had told me he’d helped me off the ground in the park, I’d have believed them without hesitation but not on the ice.
The little girl is with a slightly younger man, who looks strangely familiar. The look on his face is far softer as he looks down at the child, guiding her gently across the ice, but there’s no denying that I’m looking at the very same man who hit on me last night at Vee.
Holden Sterling.
He looks so out of place on the ice with the child compared to how I remember him. Flirty. Dangerous. And far too tempting.
Garrick is talking, probably a reminder about weight distribution, balance or something else he thinks I could improve. I should be listening, but I don’t seem to be able to take my eyes off Holden and the little girl.
Stepping onto the ice, I do a handful of laps to warm up, my eyes trained on Holden. I’m not sure what it is about him that fascinates me so much. Last night, he’d been entertaining enough but he was a distraction I knew I shouldn’t allow myself to indulge in.
But now, seeing him in the daylight and with a child, my mind is freewheeling.
“No distractions,” I mutter to myself, speeding up slightly.
I force myself to look away. Now is not the time to let my eyes be swayed. “Eyes on the prize, Ember.”
Klaus’s POV
I feel her before I see her. Or to be more exact, I feel the magic. I stop skating abruptly causing my niece, Avery to skate into me. Fortunately, I’m able to grab her before she falls. My big brother, Dominick, would murder me if I brought Avery home in anything less than the perfect condition I brought her out in.
“What’s wrong Uncle Klaus?” Avery asks in that sweet little voice of hers. She’s definitely got more of her father’s angelic DNA than his witchy side. Our mother was an angel, who foolishly fell in love with a warlock. She wasn’t a fool for loving a warlock but for loving that particular warlock. He had no intentions of raising three half angel brats, and left the same way he arrived, with a puff of smoke.
“N-nothing,” I lie. I can hardly tell a four-year-old that somewhere on this rink is my mate. She wouldn’t understand that at all. Instead, I slowly start us back up again, doing my best to ignore the tingling awareness I feel or the orange, fiery, web-like, magical strand that now seems to be coming from my chest. I can feel that magical strand wrapping around my heart, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
If I follow the strand, it will take me straight to her. That knowledge has me seriously considering flinging my niece over my shoulder and skating through the crowds on the rink until I find her. My eyes fly about, searching for her.
With a heavy sigh, I return my attention to my niece. “What were you telling me Avery?”
“Last time daddy and I came there was a lady who skated like the people on tv.”
“Mhmm.”
“I want to be just like her when I grow up.”
“Yeah. You want to be a skater?” I ask. It’s unexpected. Only last week she was telling me that she wanted to be a doctor one day.
“Yup. Just like her!” She raises her little hand, pointing at someone in the distance.
That’s when I see her. I still don’t know her name. I don’t know anything about her. Except she skates like an angel, with a grace that humans are incapable of, and most importantly, she’s my mate. The orange cord that connects us pulses brightly as I stare at her, words deserting me.
“Isn’t she pretty?” Avery asks.
I don’t reply. Pretty is not the word I’d use to describe her. She’s a fiery temptress, alluring and arresting, but not pretty. Pretty is far too ordinary a word to ever describe the woman now gliding across the ice towards us.
“You know her?”
“Daddy saved her.” She says it like she thinks my brother is a prince and my mate his princess, and I don’t like it one bit.
Slutty Foxes
Ember’s POV
M oving across the ice, I feel drawn towards where Holden is skating with the little girl. There’s something different about him and it’s not just that he’s practically dancing with a four-year-old.
“Wow, you’re so good at that,” the little girl says. “Will you teach me?”
I put my left skate out to stop myself, looking down at the child even though I really want to look up at the man beside her. He’s wearing more clothes than he had been last night, bundled up warm in a ski coat, scarf, hat and gloves. And the flirty look on his face has been replaced with one of real interest. There’s no wicked glint in his eye, instead there’s a surreal sort of depth to them that I definitely missed last night.