Page 90 of Devious Obsession
I want to see blood.
Your blood. On the ice.
And if you’re lucky, I’ll kiss it and make it better later.
25
ASPEN
Part of me thought,Nah, Steele won’t get his hands dirty.
And yet, the gloves are coming off. Literally.
Steele and one of the Devils are skating in a circle. Both have ditched their gloves. They drift closer to where we’re sitting, and I lean forward.
I have no doubt that this is for my benefit.
They’ve been trash talking each other all night, shoving each other around. Seeking each other out—or maybe they’re just assigned to guard each other, I don’t know. Either way, the tension between them has been ratcheting up all night.
It’s the third period. The CPU Hawks are up by one. But there’s still ten minutes left, and a power play by the Devils could seriously hurt our chances of winning.
Basically, from what Violet has said—at this time, anything could happen.
The Devils player throws the first punch. Steele retaliates, hitting back with power that snaps the guy’s head to the side. They’re right in front of us, and the life in Steele’s eyes is enough to make my heart lurch.
I like it and hate it at the same time.
How’s that?
Steele’s helmet is torn off and tossed aside, and his opponent hammers his fist into Steele’s face. Steele shoves him away for a second and spits a glob of blood onto the ice. His face is red, blood coming out of his nose.
Suddenly, I don’twanthim to lose.
I rise from my seat and bang on the glass. I scream, “Fuck him up!”
Steele’s brows furrow. He doesn’t look at me, but I swear he hears me. He comes back at the guy twice as hard and somehow gets him onto the ice.
The CPU crowd erupts.
We’re not on home ice—we’re outnumbered by Devils fans. But we sure do make a lot of ruckus. I’m not alone in banging on the glass as the refs separate them. Steele is pushed away, and he skates to the bench.
Someone examines his face, turning it this way and that. The Devils player climbs to his feet and skates off, expression dark.
Steele returns to the ice, skating toward us. He points at me and gives me a full-toothed smile. Even with his mouth guard, his teeth are stained pink with blood.
He steps up into the penalty box beside our section and takes a seat.
I shiver.
“Wow,” Willow murmurs. “That was hot. And I mean that in a respectful way.”
I snort and take my seat again. “Yeah, yeah.”
But on the inside, I’m smiling. Because I got what I wanted, and I can still see it. Steele’s blood left behind on the ice.
Except it backfires, because the Devils score while Steele is off the ice. The home crowd goes nuts, a horn sounding. Their music plays in celebration. It’s a little obnoxious, and my heart is in my throat.
They’re tied with eight and a half minutes remaining.
