Jason's POV
"Dude, you look like you're about to snap," Jensen had said yesterday at practice, watching me white-knuckle my hockey stick during drills. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing," I'd growled, taking my frustration out on the puck and sending it flying past the goalie with enough force to make the net shake.
"He's using his girlfriend as training," Noah shouted from across the ice. "Practicing self-control."
Jensen had laughed. "Is that what this is? Some kind of resistance training? How's that working out for you?"
It wasn't working. At all.
Every moment with Lysa was torture. And the worst part was that I couldn't do what every instinct demanded. Couldn't mark her, couldn't claim her, couldn't even tell her the truth about what she was to me.
She was com
