LOGINPOV: GunnerKhyle had showed up, of course. A little late, and friendly enough, but with that unreadable look in his eye from across the room that Gunner took to mean he still wasn't quite done flipping him the bird yet.Gunner smiled at that.The next few days blew by in a hurry that suited him fine. He and Khyle had no problems working together and reading each other during practice.Practice in general had gone well. No problems to be found. And he'd been cleared to play. That mothballed stuff was done and gone. And it was finally game time again.Purr.Throughout practice, Cooper's teachings, the sense memory of finding his feet against the coach, the rally of resolve from that accomplishment, it had been playing strong in his mind. Before they'd left that day, Cooper had quietly bestowed on him one other detail that Gunner had been curious about. He hadn't elaborated on Khyle's personal stake on the subject, but what he had explained was enough to have Gunner acting like some sor
POV: GunnerGunner rolled through the door of the locker room with an unnatural quiet for someone of his size. And his level of excitement. One corner of his heavy bag clipped the frame on his way through with a dull thud.Beyond that, he didn't announce himself. He purposely hadn't meant to. Because he wouldn't need to. He knew the moment he showed his face in the locker room after a couple of weeks MIA he'd be met with.. . .. . . nothing?The room was as quiet as Shane's bedroom on a Friday night.Most of the team was here, but all the players were in various states of folded-over. It seemed like every one of them was hunched forward to either lace their skates or pick at their gear in some sort of strange tandem.He slowed.A couple of guys looked up. One gave him a brief nod almost devoid of recognition.Gunner's head tipped slowly into a shallow, quizzical lean as he braked and really took in the entire room. He was hardly ten feet inside the doorway, black winter jacket still
POV: GunnerNot cleared to play.Not even practice.That was what the team physician had told him.So what that it had been ten hours ago and he was still processing the news, reclining on his couch. Shirtless, solo, and scowling.Okay, truth was, he wasn't processing anything. He was long done with that. Now he was just sulking and rather comfortable about it at the moment as he watched the Reapers tie their latest away game on the ice that he should be skating on right now. Except no. He'd missed what was supposed to be his first practice, and now he was watching the team play his game tonight on his drop-down flat screen. Again.It wasn't like he didn't have ten different invitations to hang out tonight. Either at his place, or at someone else's pad. Okay, maybe five. But it wasn't like he couldn't walk into any bar in the city and instantly have a fuss made over himself. But he didn't feel like being social tonight, and he sure as hell didn't feel like being fussed over.He was a
POV: Dual, Khyle and GunnerThey pulled up to the quiet curb in front of Gunner's apartment. The car came to a soft stop, and Khyle looked at him thoughtfully.The enforcer had been half asleep in the passenger seat once they hit the highway, long legs stretched out and seat reclined. At one point he heard a soft snore, and it made him smile. He was so sweet when he was asleep. Features boyish and innocent. It was almost a shame he spent so much of his time conscious."Hey dickhead, we're home.""Huhn?" Gunner flinched as he roused himself awake, his sense of awareness visibly snapping back into place. He smacked his lips a few times and blinked before he casually stretched, back arching fully out of his seat, languid and panther-like, the gravel rough hum in his throat rumbling through the car in what was to Khyle turning into a most pleasurable display of contentment. He liked Gunner when he was waking up too, it seemed."Hell, I'm gonna sleep good tonight.""You're welcome," Khyle
POV: Dual, Khyle and GunnerHe ducked his head back under the water and closed defiant eyes. He jerked when something thumped against the side of his foot. Khyle wiped his eyes free of the remnants of soap and water and looked down. A shampoo bottle.His body and brain seemed to be at war, once fighting as kin, now traitors on two separate sides. And once again, without thinking, he looked over at the enforcer.The water sluiced across the smooth, extensive terrain of well-defined sections of muscles. The man attached to them was back to lathering and rinsing, blithely unaware as he lifted one arm and rubbed conditioner suds up his side and across his armpit.For softness? Khyle snorted. Prima donna. But it reminded Khyle that they both smelled, a complicated mix of body heat and greasy sweat, cold arena air and damp skin. They stunk. Except that Gunner didn't really. Khyle had gotten a nose-full of him while being bear hugged across the room and dumped into the waiting showers. And t
POV: Dual, Khyle and GunnerAt least they were black.They clung to his skin like glue, everything underneath modified and magnified, tight wet material like fast groping hands against his skin. On reflex, he caught the bar of soap that Gunner tossed at him."Here."Khyle muttered something underneath his breath, but only scowled and turned away. There was no point in fighting about it now. He was wet and stuck. He peeled his black workout pants down, palming the wall for balance as he struggled to roll the sodden pants past his ankles. He tossed them to the side, and they collapsed in a dark, wet lump where they landed with a squelch.He wet his hair first, tipping his head forward, using the soap Gunner had tossed him. It would do. No way in hell was he asking to borrow Gunner's shampoo. That would involve talking, and maybe looking.The water turned hot, the air around them muggy. He held his face outside the spray as he lathered his body and underarms. The water ran down over his
POV: GunnerHe was just finishing pulling a loose fitting navy blue crewneck over his head and tucking the hem into the waistband of his black stonewashed jeans when it happened.The sound reached him before the words did. A swell of crowd noise rolling down the corridor like water finding the lowe
POV: GunnerGunner Jäger stalked his way down the long corridor alone with heavy, choppy strides, the sharp blades of his skates cleaving deep, clean cuts into the padded rubber matting that lined the hallway floor.The few people he had passed moments ago had scampered toward the wall, giving the
POV: KhyleSantos Khyle couldn't believe his eyes or his ears as he stepped off the padded walkway and glided onto the ice at Seattle's Sokyoku Hill Arena.The place was sold out.Over nineteen thousand people had packed themselves into every available seat, standing room, and railing, all of them
POV: KhyleKhyle tugged persistently at his lower lip as he maneuvered his car through the streets of Seattle, mind drifting to autopilot along the straight stretches while he considered and reconsidered his current situation.After last night, Khyle had taken a giant step up from being the worst t







