Fangs Beneath the Ice

Chapter 4: Recognition

Asher's POV

Wren could try all she wanted but she wasn't fooling me.

My father was already at the table when I came down, tie loosened but not removed, a sign that the fundraising had not gone the way he wanted and any little mistake on my part could lead to a transfer of aggression.

He was scrolling through his tablet. "I heard there's a new player getting a lot of attention on the team,"

Why wasn't I surprised that he knew? "Word travels fast."

"Word always travels fast in this town, that's the entire problem with it." He finally looked up. "I don't need my son's name attached to some viral hockey drama three months before the primary. I want you to keep it clean and boring. Boring wins elections, Asher."

"It's just hockey." I shrugged. “There's nothing fascinating about it that could draw attention.”

"Nothing's just anything right now." He went back to his tablet, dismissing me without another word.

My mother came in halfway through, already dressed for some morning event, clipping an earring into place while she scanned a folder of talking points balanced on her hip. She paused just long enough to press a kiss to the top of my head, the same absent, automatic gesture she'd been giving me since I was small, before continuing straight past toward the door.

"Don't stay out late," she said. "Your father’s got the Hendricks family coming by."

"I have practice.” I reminded her.

"Practice, then home." She said and was gone before I could answer.

I grabbed a granola bar off the counter instead of sitting down, appetite gone. Don't stay out late. Do this, do that. Nobody really cared about what I wanted.

This was the main reason why I didn't tell him about the alley three streets over from the rink, the one my uncle had specifically told me to keep clear of patrol routes for the next few weeks.

I texted my uncle on the walk to school, three words, asking if anything strange had happened in town and he said no but I should be careful.

After the fourth period, I changed into my gear and headed over to the rink. As usual, Wren came in late and my eyes followed her up until she sat next to that chatterbox Pearl.

"She's better than you," Marcus, who was lacing up beside me said. "The betting pool's actually pretty split."

I arched my brow. "There's a betting pool?"

"There's always a betting pool." He grinned. "You're not even mad. That's what's freaking me out. Old you would've had a whole speech ready."

He wasn't wrong, and that bothered me more than the betting pool itself. I watched her across the rink, stretching with Pearl.

I had seen her eyes flash gold and the two guys she'd shoved into the boards were twice her size.

No, maybe I was overthinking it but her scent. Her scent….

“Did you come here to look or to play?” Coach Daniels blew the whistle, and I snapped back to reality.

The coach blew the whistle, shouted something about contact rules, and the rest of the team slowly unfroze into whispers, half of them aimed at her. I didn't join in.

I skated to the bench instead and took a seat with my helmet in my lap, while i waited for practice to wrap.

As soon as we were done, I caught her by the equipment room after, and this time I didn't bother with the easy, testing tone from yesterday.

"We need to talk."

"We really don't." She didn't slow down, shouldering her bag.

"Wren." I stepped into her path, and something about my tone must have scared her because she actually stopped. "I know what you are."

The air around us went very still.

"Excuse me?"

"I know." I kept my voice low, even though the equipment room was empty, some old instinct making me check anyway. "The strength, eyes and the scent when you're angry, it's not subtle, not to someone who knows what to smell for." I watched her face drain of color.

“I do….don't know what you're talking about.” She stuttered and attempted to leave but I blocked her path.

“You can stop pretending with me, because I've spent my whole life around people like you, and I'm done watching you flinch every time someone looks at you too long."

"People like me?" She laughed but there was no humor. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know enough." I stepped closer and she backed away. “I know all there is to know about my kind.”

"You know nothing." She shoved past me and I caught my arm, something snapping within me instantly. Her eyes widened with shock and I felt it.

“Mate! Mate! Mate!” My wolf screamed.

"Let go of me." She growled and her eyes turned gold, just like before.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Wren."

"You don't get to decide that just by saying it." She yanked my arm free, her voice shaky with panic. "You don't know what happens when people find out. You don't know what I lost the last time someone found out."

"Then tell me."

"Why do you even care?" She retorted. "What, is this some kind of game to you? Some project? You think you get to just corner me after practice and demand I hand you my whole life because you smelled something you didn't like?"

"I'm not playing games."

"Sure you're not." Her voice cracked. "You've been watching me since the alley," She stepped closer and I was the one backing away. "That man. He smelled like you do right now. Was that you? Did you send him?"

"No." I shook my head. "What man? What did he say to you?"

"You know what, forget it." She backed toward the door. "Forget I said anything. Go back to your perfect little captain's life and leave me alone."

“You're a werewolf Wren just like me.” I called after her. “You're just like me.”

She turned to face me, her hand still on the doorknob. “I don't know what you're talking about. And one more thing, try to see a psychiatrist.”

With that, she slammed the door shut leaving me and my wolf.

“You've finally found your mate.”

Yeah, a girl who hates my gut.