Be ready at eight thirty, CINDER. Wear something that doesn't smell like a locker room.
I dropped the phone onto the futon and stared at it like it had personally betrayed me.
Going out meant people. Conversation. Pretending I was fine when I very much wasn't. But staying here meant another night of replaying the worst moments of my life on an endless loop. The radiator clanked again, as if weighing in on the decision.
I stood up and jogged to the shower.
Chapter three
Icing - Shooting the puck from behind the red line all the way past the opponent’s goal line untouched, stopping play.
Taranis
Max insisted on taking me home after I’d been injured and didn't push when I told him about the cold. I'd wanted him to assure me it was normal. Needed him to. Dragons didn't really talk about dragons. We were intensely private. The old joke about hoarding was true, except we hoarded secrets, not always gold.
He just nodded, handed me a beer from the fridge, and settled onto the couch like he had all the time in the world. That was the thing about Max—he understood dragons. Understood thatsometimes our bodies did things that looked catastrophic to humans but were just... part of what we were.
"Your knee?" he asked after a while.
I flexed it experimentally. No pain. No stiffness. The joint moved smoothly, perfectly, like it had never been twisted at all.
"Healed," I said.
"Course it is." He took a long drink, then grinned at me. "So. That medic."
I shot him a look. "Don't."
"What? I'm just saying, Taz, the man couldn't take his eyes off you."
"He was doing his job."
"He was doing something," Max said, waggling his eyebrows in a way that would've been obnoxious if it wasn't so absurdly cheerful. "And you were enjoying it."
I had been. That was the problem. I'd been noticing for months.
The way Cinder had touched me—careful, competent, grounding—had cut through the cold and the chaos in a way nothing else could. His hands had been steady. His voice had been calm. And when he'd looked at me, really looked at me, I'd felt something I hadn't felt in years.
Wanted. Not for what I could do on the ice. Not for my stats or my saves or my reputation.
Just... wanted.
"Forget it," I said quietly. "He's human. I'm—"
"A dragon who's been alone too long," Max interrupted. "And before you give me that look, yes, I know you've got your reasons. But Taz, you can't hide forever."
I stared down at my beer, watching condensation slide down the glass. That was the problem, a hockey career lasted a fraction of human years. Dragons lived much longer. It was true I was afraid of the "wrong hit" ending my career, but that was simplybecause I couldn't explain a fractured femur healing in the space of a week. "I'm not hiding."
"You are," Max said, gentler now. "And I get it. But maybe it's time to stop."
Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it and his grin returned, bright and mischievous. "Perfect timing. Team's got VIP tickets tomorrow night at that new club opening on 16th. You're coming. It's ticketed only. Doesn't open to the public until Wednesday."
"I'm not—"
"You are," he said firmly. "Because if you don’t, you're going to sit in this apartment and brood about your knee and that pretty medic and all the reasons you think you don't deserve nice things."
I opened my mouth to argue.
Max pointed at me. "Don't even try it, Taz. I've known you too long."