Novels by danielossai604

Three weeks ago he could not score. Tonight the entire rink screamed his name, and the woman standing behind that success was Mikka Rowan.I clenched my glass until my nails ached. She had arrived as nothing, a broke Australian student with an immigration problem and nowhere to sleep. Now she stood beside Seven like she belonged there, and worse, he looked at her like she belonged to him."You are staring again," my father said behind me.Council Head Di Matteo stepped beside me, his expression colder than the ice below. I told him I was watching the game. He said I was watching Seven."Do you know what the council is saying?" he asked."That he is winning.""That he is becoming difficult to control."My eyes narrowed. "He was never yours to control.""Careful," he warned.I hated that word. Everyone in my family used it when they wanted me to obey.I turned back to the rink. Seven was laughing with his teammates until Mikka walked over. His entire face changed into that soft smile he

My heart stumbled. Before I could answer, a phone started ringing in the snow. Seven pulled it from the rogue's pocket. Unknown number. He put it on speaker.A distorted voice said, "Tell the Beast we know where he lives."The line went dead.Seven stared at the screen, his jaw working. Then his own phone buzzed. A photo appeared. Me standing beside him after the game, taken from across the arena. Underneath it, four words: WE SEE EVERYTHING, SEVEN.He looked at me, and I looked at him, and neither of us spoke because we both understood at the same time.This was no longer about hockey.MIKKALevi did not leave after the game. He stayed near the tunnel with his arms crossed, watching Seven get mobbed by his teammates, and the smile he always wore for cameras was gone.Good. I knew that look. It was the same one he wore when something stopped belonging to him.Seven skated past me on his way to the locker room, tapped that stupid red card against his chest, and grinned. I rolled my eyes

The game turned brutal. They targeted him every shift, two men on him, shoving him into the boards, clipping his skates. He fell hard once and I was on my feet shouting before the whistle even blew. This time the ref called it on them.Seven looked at me and I gave him a thumbs up. He scored again. Then again. Three to one.In the final period their captain slammed him into the boards so hard his head snapped back. He pushed himself up slowly. His eyes flashed black. My heart stopped because I could see his claws pressing against his gloves.The captain laughed in his face. "What is wrong, Golden Rookie?"I stepped to the edge of the bench, my voice sharp. "Seven. Eyes on me."His gaze cut to mine. The black faded as he locked onto me. He picked up his stick, took the next pass, and scored again. Four to one.When the final whistle blew, he did not celebrate with his teammates. He skated straight to me, sweat dripping from his jaw, chest heaving."You did it," I whispered."You filled

MIKKAThe arena had been empty for almost an hour by the time I finished packing my bag, my clipboard and laptop shoved in beside my spare tapes, and when my phone buzzed I already knew who it was before I looked. Seven asking where I was, telling me to wait for him, typing and stopping and typing again like he could not decide how possessive he was allowed to sound over text. I laughed and told him I could survive the ten minute walk home alone, and I shoved the phone into my pocket. I should have listened.The path behind the arena was unnaturally quiet, the kind of quiet that made my wolf shift restlessly under my skin. Most students had gone home after the win, and my boots were loud against the thin snow. Then the wind shifted and brought it to me, wet fur and smoke and old blood, and my whole body went still. I turned slowly, scanning the trees, and said it clearly so whoever was hiding knew I was not prey. Come out.Nothing answered, so I kept walking, counting my steps, and w

The first thing I stole from the hockey team's private office was a keycard. The second was a file. The third nearly got me killed. I ran through the underground garage with the file crushed to my chest, my heels slipping on the concrete. Behind me the security door slammed. "Stop!" I didn't. My father had fourteen days left before his execution. I wasn't spending one of them in a cell. I cut between two parked cars and dropped behind a black SUV as a guard rushed past. He stopped. I held my breath until my lungs ached, fingers digging into the folder. Inside were four names. Four hockey players. Four witnesses to the night Daniel Vale died and my father was blamed for it. The guard turned. I ran for the exit. Headlights swung around the corner. I threw myself back against a pillar as a car braked inches from my legs. The driver's door opened and he stepped out — tall, broad in a black hockey jacket, dark hair falling over his forehead. He glanced at the guard, then at me

Ethan didn't speak until we were outside. The night air was cold and it hit my hot cheeks like a slap.He stopped by his car, finally letting go of my hand. He stared at the ground."Did you want him to kiss you?" he asked quietly.My stomach dropped. "What? No. Ethan-""Don't lie," he cut in, his voice cracking. He finally looked up, and his golden boy mask was completely gone. He just looked tired. Young. Scared. "In the room. Before I walked in. Did you want him?"Guilt choked me. I thought of Adrian's finger hovering over my lips, how badly I wanted him to close that distance."I was confused," I whispered, which wasn't a no. We both knew it.Ethan laughed, bitter and wet. "Great. Perfect." He opened the car door for me anyway, because he's still Ethan. "Get in, Mia."The drive was silent.THE NEXT DAY - RINKThe hockey rink smelled like ice and sweat and boy.I sat in the bleachers with a coffee I didn't want, watching practice because Ethan had begged me to come. _Please just co