PROLOGUE

“The ice remembers every destiny carved- every victory, every defeat, every rivalry, even two hearts that seems to beat as one--even hearts on ice”

YEAR 3000, MONTH OF JULY, 21ST DAY

“Welcome back to Day One of the Annual Arcane Ice Hockey World Cup! And folks brace yourselves. Because this is the match everyone’s been waiting for.” The voice of the announcer boomed through the arena, resounding over twenty thousand screaming fans and millions watching from home.

"Demidov versus Kensington. Russia versus USA, Moscow vs. Chicago.

Two of the biggest names, two of the brightest talents.

Two men who utterly, without question despise each other's guts.”

Hearing this, Lian tried to hold back his laughter as he stretched near the boards. "Hate each other? Yeah. Sure." He thought sounding sarcastic then eventually sighed. How many years has it been? Two years? Two years of sneaking into hotel rooms, empty locker rooms, dark hallways or their own penthouses. Two years of biting back smiles on the ice.

Two years of play-acting. Yeah. They were experts at pretending.

Across the rink, Demidov stood stiff and stoic, helmet under one arm, glaring as though someone had insulted him personally. Well to be fair, someone did.

Kensington did. Always him.

But under that glare was the same thing Kensington always felt buzzing between them. Heat and Desire, even Love. A bond they still didn't know how to handle. And tonight? That bond was vibrating like a live wire under his skin.

“There he is, ladies and gentlemen—Yaroslav Viktorovich Demidov! Captain of team Russia, Moscow's rising player the only non-magical athlete in the tournament, and easily the most disciplined player on the ice. With him, is his team Volkov Ice Dynasty” Disciplined, wow! It's like a kind word for repressed as hell.

Demidov walked in with his team while adjusting his gloves with clenched jaw, slicked-back hair, eyes in permanent murder mode. Even seeing this, Kensington's mouth went dry. And god, he was in trouble.

“And now entering the ice—Lian Mateo Alonzo-Kensington! USA's rising dual-type sensation, Chicago's pride and even the pride of Filipinos. Fast, flashy, dangerously talented, and yes, Demidov’s favorite rival. With him, is his team Chicago Frost Titans”

The crowd screamed so loudly that the rink shook. Kensington skated a slow arc, letting the wind magic curl around him as diamond shaped frost weave across the wind just enough to be dramatic. The cameras loved it, and the fans loved it. Yaroslav hated yet loved it at the same time. He hated how he has the perfect image as a magic wielder ice hockey player that he isn't but love him for how he shines on the rink and how Kensington seems to glimmer in the light.

Kensington passed by the Russian bench and caught Demidov's eyes-not long, not obvious, just a tiny glance and it was enough to make the bond snapped tight. A pulse, like a second heartbeat, hit his chest and Demidov's reaction was barely seen, a twitch of his jaw, the slightest narrowing of his eyes. But Kensington saw all of it. And he loved it.

Two years together taught him every version of that expression. That one meant:

You're distracting me.

You're in trouble.

I miss you.

He looked away first because if he didn't, he'd skate straight into him and kiss him in front of the whole damn world.

"Puck drop in thirty seconds! This has been an explosive rivalry for years, so expect hits, expect heat, and for the love of magic, expect....CHAOS!"

Chaos was an understatement. The puck hadn't even hit the ice yet when Demidov drifted closer, lowering his voice just enough for Kensington to hear. “Stop smiling like that,” he muttered. “It’s distracting.”

Hearing this Kensington can't help but smirked, "You make it too easy."

“You make everything difficult,” Demidov shot back. He skated off before Lian could reply, because of course he did.

But the bond pulsed again, stronger this time, as if the universe was leaning in between them and whispering, You're not fooling anyone.

Halfway through the first period, they slammed into each other along the boards—clean hit, technically, but only just. Their helmets clacked together, their chests collided.

The crowd roared but they didn't hear a damn thing. All Kensington felt was the heat coming from Demidov's body, his breath. The bond ripping through his ribs. Demidov's gloved hand briefly caught Lian's jersey for just a second, barely noticeable. But the look he gave him? It hit him harder than any body check. A look that seems to say how he remebered last night, how his body felt on his hands, his lips and how he clenches around Demidov's manhood, fuck just thinking of it made Kensington arosed and even Demidov for it was what his thinking at the moment.

Kensington swallowed hard and skated away before he did something insane, he found the quiet hallway behind the benches, cool air, equipment smell, muffled crowd noise.

But what he hadn’t expected, was Demidov finding him there. He grasped him by the arm, eased him dangerously gently against the wall.

“Demi—”

"Shut up." His voice was low and furious, shaking. "I can't do this today. Not with you looking at me like—"

"Like what?" Kensington whispered.

“Like you're mine.”

Kensington's breath caught.

“Are you saying I'm not?”

Demidov pressed his forehead against his, breathing too harsh, too close.

“This tournament, Kensington… if the Council finds out, if our families—”

“I know.” Kensington replied almost a whisper

"I could lose everything."

“I know” 

“But you—” Yaroslav’s voice broke, just a little. “Fuck Kensington… then I’ll risk everything, suffer everything… for one thing that matters… you.”

The bond between them throbbed, hot and bright. They kissed each other quick, desperate, and fierce.

They separated at the sound of the intermission horn. Time to pretend again. Time to go back to being rivals.

The announcer's voice boomed loudly once more: "And now, period two of the world's most hottest rivalry." 

They skated out, their eyes never meeting, bodies tense. But the bond knew. And the ice? The ice remembered everything.