Page 8 of Ice Queen

As she slides me my ticket, a question forms, buried under years of obedience and over-apologizing.

If I’m not living for anyone else, who am I allowed to be?

I guess we’re going to find out.

CHAPTER 3

Markus

Present day - January

Pounding bass rolls through my body as a tiny blonde woman grinds on me like it’s her full-time job. I bring the bottle of tequila to my lips, licking up the bits that cling to my mouth when I pull it away.

Her hand wraps around my neck, nails scratching against the short hair on the back, before she pulls my head down to hers. “Want to get out of here?” She purrs into my ear, and boy, do I. But not with her. No, I want to go home to my dog, to run my fingers over her furry back until I pass out. But I’m in Toronto, and that can’t happen.

“Not yet.” My hand anchors firmly on her hip to keep her from falling when I push her away from me. My stomach sours at the thought of what she’s trying to get from me.

Which, to be fair, I guess I knew when she came up to our table. I, however, just wanted to dance. It’s in my blood. Every holiday party growing up, we danced. Sad? Go dance. Happy? Dance even more.

Growing up in Madrid, with a model for a mother, we weren’t exactly lacking in the social scene. In fact, I think I’ve spent more time in my life dancing than I have playing hockey. And that’s saying something.

“Oh come on…” She drawls, turning and pressing in until her boobs are plastered to my chest. My hands skate up her arms until they land on her shoulders, then slightly push her away. Again.

“No.” My head shakes. Her lip immediately juts out into a pout, and while I’m sure this look has worked before, the only thing she’s getting from me is the gift of not asking out loud, if she knows those lashes she was batting my direction are hanging on by a thread.

Yikes.

I take a giant and pretty obvious step back from her, and turn on my heel, heading to the table some of the rookies are still at. “How come you get all the girls?” Price asks, his arms coming to cross over his chest as he pouts. Huh, they’d be a perfect match.

I hike a finger over my shoulder. “She’s all yours, man.” He doesn’t waste a second, hopping up and occupying the space I had just been in. Gross.

Shaking my head, I turn to look at the rest of the table.”I’m going to head out,” I say. “You guys good?”

They eye me warily, exchanging a few glances before Tate, whose voice is loaded with hesitation, finally says, “You’re leaving by yourself?”

I shrug. “I’m a big boy, I can handle walking across the street to our hotel.” Then I turn and push through the crowd, doing my best not to get pulled back onto the dance floor.

I’m almost to the door when laughter sounds from somewhere behind me, the noise quickly becomes too loud, and before I know it, I’m pushing out into the freezing Toronto night. It doesn’t take long for my teeth to start chattering, or the panic to swirl once I realize I don’t know where I am because we aren’t across the street from the hotel.

“Shit,” I mutter, placing a hand over my chest as I brace against the wall with my other.

It all happens so quickly: her face, the screams, the drop of my stomach when the plane took a nosedive. The cold seeps into my bones, rooting me to the spot I’m in. Black spots take over my vision, and before I can stop it, my world is tilting, fading until there’s nothing left.

“Sammy.” My name filters through the darkness, but I don’t know who it belongs to.

“Samuels.” Harsher this time.

“Man, get up before Coach finds you.” Something knocks against my foot. “We’ve got damage control to do.” Reed, I finally recognize.

My head pounds, my eyes protesting as I try to open them. “Agh,” I groan. “Where am I?”

My captain helps me sit up, steadying me with his hands on my shoulders. “I’d like to believe you didn’t get so drunk you passed out on the street. But you smell like a distillery.”

Fragments of the night slam into me, the girl, the fake lashes, turning her down, coming outside, the panic, the crash.

“I…” He puts a finger to his lips, shaking his head.

“Not here.” He looks around, what he’s looking for, I’m not sure. But he’s apparently satisfied when he stands, offering me his hand and pulling me off the ground fast enough to make my world spin again.