Temptation On Ice: My Rival Is A Girl

Anything for a real pay

I lift my chin and give the coach a tight smile. “Good thing I’m not here for a girls’ team. Sign me up.”

He chuckles like I told a joke. “Look, we appreciate the interest, but this is physical. Strength testing, drills—you’d get hurt.”

“Try me.” I say as I step past him toward the strength station. A big guy just finished his turn, pushing a weighted sled across the floor. The digital display shows solid numbers for a human. He steps back, wiping sweat from his forehead, and gives me a surprised look when I take his place.

I plant my feet, grip the handles, and shove. The sled shoots forward fast. The machine beeps three times and the readout spikes way past his score. Heads turn. Whispers start moving through the small crowd of guys waiting their turn.

The coach’s eyebrows shoot up. “Holy s**t. Do that again.”

I do it again. Same result. My arms barely feel the effort. The machine lights up like it’s impressed.

More guys gather now, watching openly. Someone mutters, “She’s small but damn.” Another one laughs under his breath. “That’s got to be a glitch.”

The coach scratches his head, then nods slowly. “Alright. You’re in for full tryouts. Fill out the form. We’ll see what you’ve really got on the ice.”

A small grin tugs at my lips as I grab the clipboard. I’m halfway through the paperwork when the lobby door swings open. The whole room shifts and the guys suddenly straighten up as voices drop.

"Colton's here" I hear someone whisper behind my back.

A tall, broad-shouldered guy walks in like he owns the place. Dark hair, sharp jaw, and an expression that says he doesn’t have time for anyone’s bullshit. He wears a fitted team hoodie. The captain. He has to be because he seemed like it with an aura of coldness and arrogance.

Our eyes meet across the room for half a second. Something tightens in my chest. An unfamiliar pull that makes my wolf sit up and pay attention. My skin prickles. Mate? No. It can’t be. The potion I take blocks my scent and suppresses my wolf. It has to be nothing.

He scans the room, then his gaze lands on me again, lingering a beat longer than necessary as his brow furrows slightly, like he’s trying to figure out what he’s seeing.

I look away first and focus on the form. But I feel his eyes on me the whole time.

I finish signing and hand the clipboard back. The coach waves me toward the next station. “Speed test. Let’s see if that strength translates.”

I follow him to a short track marked on the floor with cones. A couple of guys are already lined up. One of them, a tall forward type with messy blond hair, gives me a once-over and smirks. “You sure about this, princess? Ice is a different beast.”

“Princess?” I raise an eyebrow. “Cute. What’s your name, or should I just call you the guy who’s about to eat my dust?”

A few of the guys snort. The blond one’s smirk falters for a second before he laughs. “Liam. And I’m not the one who has to prove anything today.”

I step up to the starting line as the coach blows a whistle and I take off. My legs move easy and fast, faster than the guys before me. I hit the end cone and stop clean, breathing steady while the others are still catching up.

The coach checks his stopwatch. “Jesus. You’re clocking times that don’t make sense for someone your size.”

I shrug. “I run a lot.” It’s the truth. Back home I could outpace almost anyone in the pack. Here I’m holding back just enough so I don’t look like a freak.

More guys begin crowd around me. One of them, shorter with a friendly face, leans in. “Where’d you play before? College? Some rec league?”

“Self-taught,” I say. It’s not a total lie. I watched enough human hockey on that tiny TV in my room to get the basics. The rest is instinct and power.

The coach rubs his chin. “Alright, strength and speed check out. Let’s see coordination. Partner drills with the pucks.”

They hand me a stick and a puck. I grip it the way I’ve seen on screen. Nothing fancy. Liam gets paired with me. He passes the puck my way, not too hard. I stop it clean and send it back. He nods, surprised. We go back and forth a few times. I keep my passes controlled and my movements tight. No need to show everything yet.

“You’ve got hands,” he says after a while. “Didn’t expect that.”

“Most people don’t.” I keep my tone light. Inside, I’m cataloging every reaction. They’re curious, not hostile. That’s new. Back home, strength like mine got respect or fear. Here it gets side-eyes and jokes.

We move to a simple passing line. I watch the others glide first. When it’s my turn, I send the puck exactly where it needs to go while the coach watches and jots notes.

A guy next to me in line leans over. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Moved recently,” I answer. “Needed work. This pays better than washing dishes, I guess.”

He chuckles. “No kidding. Most of us are here because hockey’s the only thing we’re good at. What’s your story?”

I give him a quick smile. “Trying not to starve. Same as everyone else.”

He nods like that makes sense. The line moves forward. I keep my answers short but friendly. No point making enemies on day one.

The captain hasn’t moved from his spot near the door. He’s talking to another coach, but every few seconds his eyes flick back to me. That pull in my chest hasn’t gone away. It sits there, annoying, like a low hum under my skin. I push it down. Whatever it is, it’s not the time. I need this spot. I need the money and the place to stay. Everything else can wait.

They call us over for a quick agility drill—cones, quick stops, direction changes. I nail it. My reflexes are sharper than they should be, but I dial it back so I don’t look like I’m teleporting.

One guy trips trying to keep up with the pace I set. He laughs it off when I offer a hand up. “You’re fast,” he says, brushing himself off. “Like, scary fast.”

“Good genes, I guess,” I reply. Another almost-truth.

By the time we finish the last drill, the sun is starting to dip outside the big windows. My legs feel good. My wolf feels restless but controlled. I’ve held back enough that no one’s bones are broken and no one’s asking weird questions.

The coach gathers everyone near the boards. “Alright, new recruits. We’re taking three today. Two forwards, one defender. The rest of you—thanks for coming out. Better luck next cycle.”

Names get called. My stomach tightens for half a second.

The coach looks straight at me. “Hannah. Exceptional acceptance. You’re in. We’ll sort position and contract tomorrow morning. Be here at eight.”

A couple of the guys clap. Liam gives me a nod that almost looks like respect. “Welcome to the chaos.”

I keep my face neutral, but inside I feel lighter than I have in weeks. Thirty days of running, scrubbing, and barely scraping by, and now I’ve got a spot on a real team with real pay. This is better than I hoped for on day thirty of running away from Blue Crest Pack.

At that exact moment, the captain pushes off the wall and walks straight toward the group. Everyone quiets as he stops a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes locked on me like I’m the only person in the lobby.

“Hannah,” he says. His voice is low, the kind that expects answers. “You don’t look like you’ve played organized hockey before.”

I meet his stare without blinking. “I haven’t. But I learn fast.”

He studies me for a long second. That pull hits harder now that he’s closer. My wolf stirs again. Mate bond? The thought flashes through my head before I can stop it. But the potion is still working. I can’t smell him the way I should. Can’t tell if this is real or just leftover instinct from running too long from the pack.

He frowns, obviously displeased with my answer. “We don’t do charity cases here. You earn your spot every day.”

“I know,” I say. “I don’t like free rides anyway.”

A flicker of something crosses his face—surprise, maybe irritation. He gives one short nod and turns to the coach. “Get her paperwork and room assignment done. I want her on the ice with the rest of the new group.”