Chapter 45: Mate on Ice

The locker room smelled of cold sweat and damp rubber.

Daemus sat on the wooden bench, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor. It was the first intermission. His chest was heaving slightly from twenty minutes of a brutal game on the ice.

"Hey, Daemus," one of his teammates called out, tossing a roll of black tape across the room. "Still no sign of your little human mate?"

Daemus caught the tape effortlessly without looking up. "She’s just running late."

"You sure, bro?" another wolf laughed, bumping Daemus’s shoulder as he tightened the laces on his skates. "Be honest, a human could never be a proper mate for a wolf. There’s no way she can keep up. She probably took one look at you out there and tapped out."

"She’ll be here," Daemus said firmly, leaning back and taking a swig from his water bottle.

She had to be. It was written into their fake mate contract. Furthermore, his mother and sister were sitting right behind the glass in the VIP section tonight, waiting for her to join them.

The locker room door swung open, and the rest of the team piled out into the hallway to hit the ice for warm-ups. Daemus stayed behind for a second, re-adjusting the straps on his shoulder pads.

As the door clicked shut, a figure casually peeled itself away from the shadows in the corner of the room.

"They are getting suspicious, you know."

Daemus let out a long, weary sigh. "Uncle Silas. What a pleasant surprise."

"Your mother and sister think you might have made this whole ’human mate’ thing up just to get out of your engagement," Silas continued, ignoring his sarcasm and leaning casually against a row of lockers.

"She will be here," Daemus repeated, his jaw tightening as he adjusted his skate guards.

Silas gave a noncommittal shrug. "Perhaps. Or perhaps the little lesser found herself busy with another beastman. You know how those humans are. They love to spread their legs to the highest bidder."

A low growl ripped through the quiet locker room.

Daemus’s head snapped up. His silver eyes flashed with a sudden, intense heat, his lips curling back to bare his canines.

"She isn’t like that," Daemus snarled.

Silas blinked. Then, an amused chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"Well, well," Silas grinned. "Getting quite attached to this female, aren’t we? You even dare to snarl at your own uncle to defend her."

Daemus forced his canines away, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s not like that. Generalization just pisses me off."

"No, no please, it’s a good thing," Silas noted cheerfully, waving a hand. "If you two actually get attached to each other, the mating will be a lot less awkward."

Silas took his phone from his jacket pocket. He tapped the screen a few times, humming a happy little tune as he turned toward the door.

"Ensure you boys beat the Timber Wolves tonight," Silas tossed over his shoulder as he opened the door. "I placed a very big bet on this game."

He stepped out into the hallway, but a second later, his head popped right back into the doorway.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Silas smiled brightly. "I heard they are considering transferring your sister to this school."

Daemus’s hands froze on his laces. He didn’t even try to hide the profound look of irritation that settled over his features. He glared at his uncle. "They want to send her here to spy on me."

Silas laughed out loud. "Don’t look so excited! You are the first wolf in a hundred years to take a human mate, Daemus. What did you expect?"

"How did my father take the news?" Daemus asked, dreading the answer.

"The Wolf King is actually very pleased!" Silas beamed. "He completely agrees with our strategy to get the genius gene into the Wintercrest pack. He expects you two to have at least two hundred pups! Then, of course, when she dies, he expects you to resume your previous engagement."

A shrill whistle blew from the hallway, interrupting them.

"Daemus! Get your ass out here!" the coach roared.

Daemus stood up, grabbing his helmet off the bench.

"I’m not doing it," Daemus muttered as he pushed past his grinning uncle.

As he walked down the tunnel toward the blinding light of the ice rink, Daemus glanced up at the large clock on the wall. The first intermission was almost over.

Blair, Daemus wondered, a knot of worry twisting in his gut. Where are you?

---

Blair stood outside the doors of the armory, staring at it like it was a gateway to hell. The usual dread was filling her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Taking a shaky breath, Blair pushed the doors open.

To her relief, Professor Feron was not there.

Instead, sitting behind the desk in the center of the room, was the same elegant avian beastwoman from the night before. She didn’t look elegant tonight, though. She was slumped over the desk, her long, beautiful hair a tangled mess obscuring her face as she let out a quiet, pathetic groan.

"Um, good evening, Professor," Blair greeted softly.

The beastwoman slowly lifted her head. "I can’t believe I fell for it again."

Blair blinked, stepping a little closer. "I’m sorry?"

"Jack," the beastwoman whined, her voice thick and raspy. "He told me the game was tonight. And then he asked me what I was doing tonight. I was so certain he was asking me to be his date to the game!"

She threw her hands up in the air, the picture of absolute despair. "But he just wanted me to cover his detention shift again!"

Blair let out a quiet, happy sigh. She would take a detention shift with this depressed, lovesick beastwoman over Professor Jack Feron any day of the week.

"What am I doing wrong?!" the beastwoman groaned loudly to the ceiling.

She reached under the desk and pulled out a large, half-empty glass bottle of vodka. Without grabbing a glass, she uncapped it, tipped her head back, and started drinking straight from the bottle.

Blair’s eyes widened. She took a slow, cautious step back toward the door.

She watched the professor take another gulp. The beastwoman’s cheeks were already flushed a deep, feverish pink, and her breathing was growing heavy and uncoordinated. Based on the amount of missing liquid in that bottle, Blair could tell the woman was going to pass out very, very soon.

"I’m just going to... use the bathroom," Blair announced quickly to the room.

The beastwoman didn’t respond, merely resting her forehead against the desk with a miserable hiccup.

Blair slipped back out the doors and into the darkness of the campus.

He must be in the woods again, Blair thought, her pulse quickening as she looked toward the dark, sprawling tree line bordering the campus. He’s searching for the monsters.

The last time, the monsters hadn’t hesitated to attack her. But the second he had stepped in, they fled. They didn’t even try to fight him. They were terrified of him.

So, maybe... they could help each other?