Ice Play Novels & Stories

"What do you want, Ryder?" He caught up, slinging his hockey duffel bag over one broad shoulder. "Look, I don’t want you tutoring me either, okay? Let's get that one thing straight." I crossed my arms, letting out a dry scoff. "Good. At least we agree on something." "But," he continued, leaning down slightly with a familiar smirk, "I need my grades up to stay on the ice. So I guess I’ll just have to endure it for a bit."

"A strain. That is what you said last time. And the time before that." "Because that is what it is." Richard was quiet for a moment. Julian could hear him breathing, could feel the weight of his silence. "If you cannot play, I need to know. I have investors who are counting on you. Sponsors. Contracts. This is not just about you, Julian." Julian's hand tightened on the phone. "I can play." "Then prove it. The game against Vancouver is in two weeks. I want to see you on the ice. I want to see you win."

Amanda's POV~ "Hmph!" I sighed as I stared at the glowing white chandelier above, closed my eyes and watched as the phosphenes created random pieces of art within my closed eyes. What kind of bad luck must have met me today? This day had quite literally won the position of the most terrible day in my life. "Clip! Clop! Clip! Clop!...." I heard footsteps approaching. Slightly turning my head to the side, I saw mom walking down the floating stairs.

Icy iron chains locked around my wrists and ankles, fastening me to a stone pillar in the center of the cellar. The piercing cold surged up from the soles of my feet, spreading through my entire body, cutting through the thin maternity dress and drilling straight into my bones. The cellar was empty, filled only with the slow drip of melting ice and the uncontrollable chattering of my teeth. I curled in on myself, arms wrapped tightly around my belly, trying to warm the child inside with what little body heat I had left.

"The last thing you said was 'Don't stop... don't... oh god, yes!'" He slaps my stomach playfully. The jolt of need makes me hiss. Isaac lifts his head, blonde hair a mess. "I didn't hit you that hard." "No," I groan. "But I'm about to snap." "I can help." His nails circle my navel. His tongue flicks my nipple. "The next puck drop isn't for thirty-six hours..." The game? I don't know what hockey is right now. I just know Isaac.

“I’m a little out of practice.” “A little?” He smirks, lazily gliding toward me. Effortless. Like the ice bends for him. “You look like Bambi on roller skates.” Heat surges to my cheeks. “You’re supposed to be helping me.” “I am.” He flicks a puck in my direction. “Rule number one: stop whining.” The puck skitters across the ice. Instinct kicks in I catch it on my stick, handle it without thinking. For a second, it feels right. Then my balance falters, and I stumble.

I get up, pull on gear without fully deciding to and walk to the rink. The ice at five-forty in the morning is a specific thing. The lights on half-power, the refrigeration hum, the cold that hits your face at the entrance and reminds you immediately that this is a real place and you are a real person in it. I lace up alone on the bench, no rush, nobody waiting, just the sound of the empty building around me. I step onto the ice.

Hot Ice: “Where are they,” I think, flipping my left hand and forming a fireball. Throwing the fireball, I set a shopping cart on fire. As the people run, some accidentally step onto the ice and slide around. A man screams as he slides right into the cashier’s counter. “They’re coming,” the boss replies, speaking through the earpiece he gave me. “Be ready, and remember the plan. To retrieve the flash drive Nitro lost.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, flipping my right hand and forming an ice ball. Throwing the ice ball, it hits and breaks a t.v screen.

Pelin screamed, diving to the earth at the last possible millisecond. I stepped into his path. I wasn’t moving; I was a statue of ice. As the ram reached me, the heat of his horns melting the eyelashes on my face, I swung. “Iced Earth!” I yelled. I didn’t aim for his head. I aimed for the ground beneath his hooves and his front legs. The moment my icy blade touched the ground, a flash of ice shards erupted and a strand of ice froze the ground towards Aries. Even the moisture in the air turned to shards.

Liam let out a soft, misty breath that vanished into the chilly air, and stepped onto the ice. The initial glide was a revelation. After five days of forced stillness, the sensation of the hard, frozen surface rushing beneath his blades sent a jolt of pure kinetic pleasure straight up his spine. He took three long, powerful strides, his body instantly dropping into the familiar, elegant geometry of his program. He didn't jump. He didn't execute the high-velocity transitions. Instead, he leaned into a deep, continuous forward outside edge, his body tilted at an angle that seemed to defy gravity, his gloved fingers tracing the red line as he swept across the center circle.