Ice Play Novels & Stories

“You don’t tremble like the others.” “Should I?” she whispered. “No.” His answer came too quickly. Too firm. He looked away, like he had revealed something he didn’t intend to. Then he handed her a small velvet box. Elara blinked. “What’s this?” “Open it.” Inside was a thin silver bracelet with a tiny flame symbol carved into it. “It’s a tracking cuff,” he said. “But it will never hurt you unless you break the rules.” Elara hesitated. “Does every slave get one?”

His patience was thinner than the ice we trained on. Before I could even find the words, Isaac’s chair creaked. Slowly, deliberately, he set his pen down on the folder and looked up, his expression so flat it could’ve been carved from stone. “This is not a romance novel, Coach Lila. It’s competitive figure skating.”

Paul reported. "This is becoming unbearable." Old Madam Ryan spoke hopelessly. ============ Babe came out of the kitchen holding a cup of ice cream. She was wearing an off-shoulder top and mini shorts. Her hair was packed loosely as she sat on her Queen-sized bed. She was watching a few series that got her hooked for a few days. Just as she was about to get comfy, her doorbell rang and she sighed nonchalantly. The doorbell kept ringing nonstop but she was adamant on not wanting to answer it.

Omar had been explicit about his hatred towards my kind, but part of me hoped he would see through that judgmental fog and become the kind, caring Omar I met. "Beatrice, more ice." Persephone extended her ruby-engraved chalice, waving in a gentle upward motion. I clench my jaw at my new Ice machine status. She used me as her cooling device, forcing me to use my power at every frivolous opportunity. "Yes, your majesty." I pause my palm-leaf fanning momentarily to wave a hand over her glass, forming little clumps of ice.

Ice. He came up to the room after I called him, telling him to come up to me. "Sofia what is it? I swear to god, if you want me to paint your toenails again, I'm not doing it" Ice raised his voice after bursting into the room. "I need to talk to you about something" I spoke gently, showing him my puppy dog eyes. "Oh no, are you pregnant" Ice gasped, all the colour draining out of his face, leaving it a whitish colour.

“You call that a pass?” I glanced down at the ice, realizing I had completely missed the play. “I…” “Focus,” he snapped. “Or get off my ice. “I’m fine.” I muttered, tightening my grip on my stick. “It doesn’t look like it.” He snapped. Ignoring him, I pushed off again but it didn’t get better. Every pass was off, every shot missed and every move felt wrong like my body wasn’t keeping up with my mind or maybe it was the other way around.

Water began to disappear fast and was pulled downward through channels beneath the ice. The container dropped with it. Lower. Deeper. Out of reach. “No!” Rory surged forward. I caught her instantly, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back. “It’s going under!” Victor watched, satisfied. “If I cannot have it,” he said, “neither can you.” The container sank further. The water level dropped rapidly now, exposing jagged edges of broken ice, hollow sections beneath, the skeleton of the rink’s infrastructure revealed in pieces. Amelia moved fast without thinking.

The day before the Qualifier, the rink was freezing, as always, but the tension in the air made it feel even colder. Elias glided across the ice, his blades carving sharp, precise arcs as he ran through his short program for the third time that morning. His breath formed clouds in the chill, but his body moved with fluid precision, each spin, each jump landing clean.

The wealthy have a scent for authenticity, and right now, the pack was howling. It was their first time seeing a "lowly" Parker wear high-end gear with such absolute defiance. “Do you even have an invite, Collins? Or did you sneak in through the kitchen vents?” Charlotte Whitmore’s voice was a shrill whistle. I met her gaze with a glacial stare. “I got in on my own merit. Something you wouldn’t understand.” That shut them up for a second, but their eyes immediately dropped to my feet. I was wearing a pair of rare, midnight-black skates—the kind with the carbon-fiber blades and custom leather. They were the limited edition "Valerian Frost" line.

"Focus! Stay in the play! Intercept!" The command hits Mateo like a bucket of ice water. Viktor stones the incoming shot, and the rebound chips out toward the very defenseman Mateo was ready to maul. This time, instead of using his fists, Mateo uses his superior speed. He cuts the lane, stealing the puck right off the man’s stick before the defender can even blink.