Tony Rydinger Novels & Stories

As she approached, their voices became clearer. "I do not endorse such a decision," Ronald fumed. "You think I wasn't in school when I gave birth to my first child? Huh? How did you think I started out young? Or should I start losing hope in my favorite grandchild?" "You know that's not going to happen," Donovan assured him. "Then be the powerful man that I see you becoming. Don't disappoint me now. You're a born leader. Do not make me doubt the possibility of you becoming the Godfather of our frat when you get to my age. Because I see you taking over from me."

I spotted Spencer and Ryder across the crowd, his eyes locked on mine for a brief moment before he nodded and continued on his way. Ryder stood at around 6'1" with a lean yet athletic build, honed from years of running and training in the woods. His skin had a warm, golden undertone, a testament to his mixed heritage, unlike my pale own. His grey eyes were a striking feature, seeming to gleam with a mix of intensity and kindness, depending on his mood.

It didn’t matter how hard he worked or how much distance he tried to keep, Calloway was everywhere, always there, a shadow that refused to let him breathe. When they hit the ice again that afternoon, Ryder was determined to take something back. He needed a win, something solid to remind both himself and Coach Larsson who ran this team. Drills bled into scrimmage. Beck barked orders, whistles shrieked, and ice sprayed in glittering arcs beneath their blades. Ryder caught a perfect pass from Connor, dodged a defender, and drove it home, stick snapping against the puck with a sharp crack that sent it soaring into the upper corner of the net.

Franklin’s POV I called his name once. He didn’t slow. I called it again, louder, trying to cut through the crowd noise and the medical team movement and the general controlled chaos of a player down on the ice. Rydan’s back was to me and he was moving with the particular directness of someone who has stopped filtering their movement through the consideration of how it looks. I went after him.

Giving him a nod, I reached out to take the hand he offered. “Very well.” I said, only keeping my hand in his briefly as we shook on it. “Remember, if things get hairy out there, let me know and I will bring a team out to assist you. I have Ryan on the rooftop standing by as a sniper if needed.” Ryker spoke as we started toward the front door. I was tempted to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but from the looks of things, I doubted he was going to budge on this. When we reached the door, he grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving. Turning to look at him, I wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Go and get your wounds cleaned, the Alpha has guests over tonight; he expects you to serve. Therefore, you are to help in the kitchen before getting ready. That is, unless you want to anger him…” *************************** “I am impressed by the quality of girls that you have within your pack, Alpha Stefano,” a man, Alpha Ryker, said, eyeing me up and down. I had to fight back, shying down under his dark gaze, and looking back at me, Alpha Stefano smirked. I was holding their wine for them, waiting for one of them to empty his glass for me to serve. “How much for the night?” “She is not for pleasure. She barely knows how to hold a bottle.” Alpha Stefano said, his tone cold as he spoke to h

Their sticks clattered against the boards as they rounded the corners, their breath puffed out in visible clouds in the freezing air. I skated slowly along the perimeter, taking notes as Andy, one of my best defensemen, slowed beside me, breathing hard. “Coach, what are we gonna do about Reynold? He’s still out. We need a legit left winger who can actually finish chances.” I kept my expression neutral. “Derek’s moving up; he’s earned the spot. Bobby, you drop back into Derek’s old spot on the second line.” Derek, who was already circling back, grinned like an idiot and slammed gloves with Andy. “Let’s fucking go!”

Off-Season Chapter 1: The Trade The locker room smelled like sweat, metal, and old rivalries. Ryder “Riot” Kane slammed his gear bag onto the bench with enough force to make the metal rattle. Six-foot-five, two-hundred-forty pounds of pure muscle and barely-contained violence, his arms and chest covered in dark ink that told stories of fights won and bones broken. At twenty-eight, he was one of the league’s most feared enforcers — the guy coaches called when they needed someone to bleed on the ice.

"You've got quite the eye, Vance! Good taste." My face burned even hotter at the blunt teasing. "Shut your loud mouth," Ryder grumbled, though there was no real malice in his tone. He turned around, offering me a hand to help me up, then pulled me by the waist, pressing me possessively against his side. "Baby, ignore this idiot. This is Jason. My old best friend and hockey teammate from Canada." Jason extended his hand to me with a warm, golden-retriever-like smile that completely contrasted with my boyfriend's dark aura. "Jason. Specialist in pissing Ryder off, and the actual captain on the ice. It's nice to finally meet the angel who managed to melt this monster."

Rhyker took my arm while those two opened the door for him, we got inside of his luxury office, I gasped in fascination as I saw the big aquarium outside and a pool inside his office. A fucking pool! "You can make yourself comfortable." He said while tugging his tie off, he took off his blazer and the necklace that was on his forehead then sat down on his chair that was in the middle of the room. I stood there nervously while looking at the trophy back in the office, I walked close and touched one of the gold trophies that was standing in the middle for some reason. "That's a trophy that I won when I was only a kid. I played the violin and the piano in a competition." He commented, I hummed