Chapter 2

ELIAS'S POV 

The third period was my only chance to beat him and if I didn't, I was at his mercy.

From the moment the puck dropped, the atmosphere in the arena shifted. The air was colder, the lights felt brighter, and the weight of the "C" on my chest weighed down on me. My teammates were playing for the win, but I was playing not to lose to Ryder who was determined to have me in his clutches.

Ryder didn't shadow me like a normal defender would. He was just there, a constant presence at the edge of my vision. Every time I touched the puck, I could feel him behind me. It was nearly like his goal was simply to disorient me and keep me unnecessarily alert and cautious. I couldn't play like this, not him basically following me around.

"Focus, Elias!" Jason barked as he zipped past me, his eyes wide with a mix of confusion and fear. 

I tried. I forced my mind back into the familiar grooves of my training. *Head up. Knees bent. Watch the hips.* But my body wasn't listening. My muscles were tight, locked in a state of high alert that had nothing to do with the score and everything to do with the deal I’d just made.

Ryder skated into my lane, his shoulder catching mine just hard enough to knock me off balance. 

"You're overthinking it, Captain," he murmured as we tangled near the boards. He was leaning into me, his breath warm against the side of my neck through the gaps in our gear. 

"Your heart is beating so hard I can feel it through the pads."

"Shut up," I hissed, shoving him off. My hands were sweating inside my gloves.

The clock was ticking down the seconds of my freedom. 4:02. 3:59. 3:55. We were tied 2-2 and one might have relaxed, in fact, I might have been slightly relieved if we were up against another team but this was Ryder and his team we're talking about here. 

With two minutes left, I saw my chance. A turnover at the blue line. The puck squirted loose, and for a split second, I had a clear lane. This was it. This was the moment I reclaimed my dignity. If I scored, I could pretend the deal never happened. I would be able to get rid of Ryder.

I dug my skates into the ice, the blades screaming as I accelerated. The wind whipped past my face, and for a heartbeat, I felt like I was in control again. I reached the puck, settled it on my blade, and looked up.

The net was wide open.

Just then, I spotted Ryder coming at me from the flank. It was now or never. Not giving him the opportunity to intercept me, I channeled every ounce of my frustration, my fear, and my strange, twisted fascination with this man into my arms. I wound up for a slap shot, a powerhouse move that usually left goalies shaking.

I swung.

*CRACK.*

The sound echoed through the entire arena, louder than the crowd, louder than the buzzer. My stick didn't hit the puck. Ryder’s body hit me at the exact moment of impact. The carbon fiber shaft snapped in two, the top half flying into the air.

I felt the air leave my lungs in a violent rush. My skates left the ice, and then the world went white.

I hit the boards with a thud and crumpled to the ice. My lungs were paralyzed, my chest refusing to take in air. I stared at the ceiling lights, the blurred white circles spinning above me. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard the final buzzer.

*Game over.*

I had lost.

I didn't move as my teammates swarmed the ice. I didn't move as Jason tried to pull me up, his voice a muffled distant sound. I just stared at the two pieces of my broken stick lying in the slush. 

The locker room was like a graveyard, quiet and awkward. The guys moved in silence, the air heavy with the stench of a loss they didn't understand. Jason tried to talk to me, his hand resting on my shoulder.

"Elias, man, it was an accident. The stick just gave out. You would have had it."

I didn't look at him. I couldn't. I just stared at the floor, my fingers fumbling with the laces of my skates. "Go home, Jace. I’m staying to finish some tape review."

"You sure? You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," I lied. The word tasted like copper in my mouth.

One by one, the lockers slammed. The showers stopped hissing. The lights dimmed automatically as the last of the staff filtered out. Finally, I was alone.

Or I should have been.

The silence of the locker room was broken by a heavy, deliberate footfall. The door swung open and I could guess who it was. 

I sat on the wooden bench, my head bowed, my damp hair dripping onto my knees. Ryder’s shadows stretched across the floor until they touched my feet. He was still in his gear, his jersey stained with ice and the blood from a small cut on his lip. 

"You're late," I whispered, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.

"I gave you a few minutes to mourn," Ryder said. He stepped into the light, his massive frame blocking the exit. "I’m a generous man, Elias."

I stood up, my legs feeling like they were made of water. I tried to summon that cold, captain’s stare that usually made freshmen tremble, but my mask was gone. I was just a man who had made a bet due to ego and still ended up losing it.

"Just say it," I snapped, my chest heaving. "Tell me how pathetic I am. Tell the press. Do whatever you’re going to do and get it over with."

Ryder moved closer and didn't stop until he was inches away, his chest nearly brushing mine. He was taller than me, broader, and perhaps in this moment, better than me.

He reached out, his bare han calloused and warm gripping the back of my neck. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, a touch so intimate it made me shudder.

"You think this is about the game?" he asked, his blue eyes searching mine with a terrifying intensity. "You think I want to humiliate you in front of a bunch of kids and cameras?"

I couldn't breathe. "Then what?"

Ryder leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. His scent filled my senses and surprisingly made me feel relaxed.

"I’ve spent three years watching you pretend to be perfect. I’ve spent three years waiting for you to break,” he whispered. 

He tightened his grip on my neck, forcing me to look at him. 

"A deal is a deal, Captain," he murmured, his face so close his nose brushed mine. "And my request is rather simple, perhaps boring even.”

“If you haven't thought about what it is you want from me, then think about it before you—”

“I want you to sleep with me. Just this once.”