CHAPTER ONE

IAN

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*

The crowd was still losing their mind long after we left the ice.

We won.

Last game in this shithole high school before we officially moved to the Academy for our final year. The Dark Falcons didn’t stand a chance and they knew it before the puck even dropped.

My teammates were celebrating. Loud. Hyped.

Everyone was riding high.

Except me. The captain, who’d just delivered the performance of his life while his own body tried to eat him alive from the inside out.

My wolf, Fenris, wouldn’t go still.

My jersey was soaked through with sweat, my skin clammy in a way that had nothing to do with the game.

I inhaled. Sharply. Raggedly.

I got this. I got this.

I was Alpha. The last thing anyone needed to see was their Alpha losing control. Again.

“Bro, you were a fucking animal out there.”

Zane dropped onto the bench across from me, shin pads half unstrapped, grinning like a kid high off a sugar rush.

“That last hit? That was sick. You sent their goalie into the shadow realm.” Rhys sat down next to his twin wearing the exact same grin.

The two of them were identical in every way—same dark hair, muscular build, and their inability to shut the fuck up for more than thirty seconds.

The only way to tell them apart was the silver barbell through Rhys’s left eyebrow—a piercing he’d gotten six months ago specifically because he was tired of girls calling him Zane in bed. Before that, even their own mother mixed them up. Hell, I mixed them up, and I’d known them since we were five.

“Both of you shut up,” I said.

“Geez. We win the whole championship and you’re still murderous and constipated?” Zane smirked.

They were annoying as hell.

Adrian sat at the far end of the bench, quiet as always, unlacing his skates. He didn’t say anything. He rarely did. He met my gaze now. A question in his eyes. You good?

I gave him a short nod and he went back to his skates.

“Hey, babe.” An irritating sugary feminine voice purred.

The platinum blonde strutted into the locker room, her hips swaying towards me like she was on a runway and not walking into a room that reeked of sweat and adrenaline.

What was her name? Shannon? Shawna? Something with an S. I could not remember and genuinely did not care.

“I could help you celebrate. You know I’m good at that.” She murmured, her fingers reaching up to cup my jaw.

I caught her wrist before she made contact. “Not now.”

She raised a brow and pouted. “What do you mean not now? You just won! You always want sex after a win. There’s still about an hour before the party starts,”

She tried again, pressing forward. Fenris lurched. Her scent hit me intensely. Three weeks ago that scent was tolerable. Tonight it was making me want to peel my own face off.

“Go away,” I growled.

She blinked. Then her expression hardened. “Are you serious right now? Everyone’s celebrating and you’re sitting here like someone died.” She crossed her arms, which only pushed her tits up higher. “You’re really going to ignore this?”

Any other night? Maybe. Fine. Whatever. But right now my wolf was trying to eat its way out of my rib cage and the last thing I needed was the bleached-haired ‘Throat Goat’ shoving her chest at me like it was going to fix the fact that I was slowly losing my goddamn mind.

“I said go away!” My voice was louder this time.

“Bastard.” She flushed with embarrassment. “Fine. Suit yourself. Don’t come texting me later.”

She strutted off, her heels angrily clicking against the concrete floor.

“Damn.” Zane leaned back, watching her leave with open appreciation. “You’re really passing on that? After a win?”

“One hour? You’re a champ.” Rhys whistled, tilting his head to get a better angle on her exit. “That’s, like, fifty eight more than Zane needs.”

“Speak for yourself,” Zane fired back. “Every girl knows I’m a beast in bed.”

“Since when?”

“Your last girlfriend, remember? Remember when I pretended to be you and—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll break your jaw,” Rhys said, all traces of laughter gone from his voice now.

“Damn. You’re still touchy about that? You must have really liked that one.”

Adrian didn’t look up from his skates as he muttered. “Both of you are embarrassing.”

I braced my hands against the locker and breathed—the episodes. My wolf was going completely feral. I knew what Fenris wanted. He wanted his mate. And I hadn’t found her. Maybe when we found her—if we found her—it would stop.

“You’ll come for the after party, won’t you, babe?”

Another voice. Another babe. But this one wasn’t directed at me.

I looked up.

Nate Calloway.

He stood at the other end of the locker room, still in his jersey, hovering over his girlfriend. She was tucked against him, petite and wide-eyed, her wavy brown hair falling around her shoulders like a curtain. The Muteblood. Elara-something. The wolfless nobody Nate dragged around like a charity case.

As if she could feel my gaze on her, her head turned in my direction.

Her lips parted and those forest green eyes covered by thick framed glasses found mine.

One second.

Her wide eyes narrowed the way it usually did, she always looked at me like I was the worst thing she’d ever seen while simultaneously looking like she was about to cry. Everything about her irritated me on a level I couldn’t fully explain.

Nate’s arm went around her waist and pulled her closer. Her gaze tore away from mine.

Fenris surged inside of me, tearing against my skin again.

“Give me a reward for winning, that last goal was for you, especially.” Nate was saying.

“Hmm,” She tiptoed and kissed his lips. Quick and light. The kind of kiss you give your grandmother.

“Aw,” Zane said, loud enough for half the room to hear. “Look at that, Rhys. True love.”

“Beautiful,” Rhys said, pressing his hand over his heart. “Brings a tear to my eye.”

“They’re so cute I might throw up.”

I didn’t want to hear any of this. But curse my goddamn supernatural hearing—I could hear every breath, every wet sound of lips meeting lips being funneled directly into my skull at maximum volume.

“So quick?” Nate grumbled. “Come on, I’m the birthday boy. You can do better than that.”

She kissed him again. Longer this time. And then—fuck—I could smell it. Nate’s arousal. That thick, musky stink rolling off him in waves, flooding the locker room like a gas leak.

“Also,” Nate murmured against her mouth, “for the party later… wear the dress I bought you?”

“If that’s what you want.” Her voice was breathless. Soft.

I snapped.

“Enough!” My voice cracked through the locker room like a whip. Every head turned. Conversations died mid-sentence. “Get a fucking room. Some of us are trying to change without gagging on Calloway’s hormones.”

Nate’s grin vanished. He pushed Elara behind him as though he could actually protect her from me.

“What’s your problem, Nightshade?” Nate growled. “We just won and you’re still picking fights? Can you go one night without being a dick?”

“Nate.” Her hand was on his arm, pressing into his jersey. “Just ignore him. It’s okay.”

I totally ignored her.

“Your captain and Alpha is telling you to keep your hands off your girlfriend in the locker room,” I said, eyes locked on Nate. “That’s basic fucking etiquette. Or do they not teach that in the Beta’s household?”

Nate stormed forward. I was half an inch taller. He was glaring up at me with the kind of defiance that would’ve been admirable if it wasn’t so fucking annoying.

We used to be best friends as kids—inseparable. All five of us. Me, Nate, Adrian, and the twins. We grew up together, trained together, raised hell together. That was until that unforgettable incident happened. And then six months ago, Nate showed up with her as his girlfriend.

“And if I don’t?” Nate glared up at me.

“Try me.”

We started to circle each other. The locker room went dead quiet.

“Oooh.” Zane grinned. “This is gonna be interesting. Careful, Calloway. Don’t write checks your muteblood girlfriend can’t cash.”

“Leave her out of this,” Nate snarled, his eyes cutting to Zane.

“She’s in it,” Rhys replied. “She’s been in it since you brought her around.”

“Save it for the party, boys! Everyone out, showers, now!” Coach burst through the door, he shoved himself between us, one hand on my chest, one on Nate’s, his red face vibrating with fury.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Nightshade? We just had the best game of the season and you’re starting shit in my locker room?” He clapped my shoulders hard. “Go celebrate like a normal person. Christ.”

I shrugged off his grip.

Behind Nate, the Muteblood was holding his arm, whispering at him to calm down. Her chin was trembling. Those green eyes were getting glassy and wet, the way they always got—the only move she had, really, the quivering lip and the doe eyes.

“Aw,” Zane said, “is she gonna cry?”

“Boooo,” Rhys added loudly, cupping his hands around his mouth. “No crying in the locker room. House rules.”

“That’s enough. Everyone out,” Adrian said, his expression bored, directed at the twins.

Elara shot me one last glare over Nate’s shoulder. Those green eyes were burning with undisguised hate.

I stared right through her.

I fucking hated that face.