The innuendo is definitely intentional, and suddenly I’m picturing his hands on my hips, guiding me. And while we’re both on the ice, what I’m picturing has nothing to do with skating.
“I… Um…” I swallow hard and try to remember what the goddess we were talking about. Oh. Right. “Too bad I already know how to skate.”
“Do you now?” he raises an eyebrow.
I nod. “I just think there might be something wrong with these skates. A friend of mine spelled them, and his magic is known to be a little… wonky.”
“And the rink hired him to spell skates?” Leith frowns.
I snort. The thought of anyone hiring Julian to do any kind of magic is kind of absurd. So much so that I actually feel bad for the guy.
I can’t imagine what I’d do if I couldn’t use magic. Not that it would ever happen. There’s only one reason I might lose my powers, and that’s if I ended up in prison. So it’s a good thing I’ve got Mini locked up at my place until I can prove she’s the real thief.
“Earth to Zoe Wynter…” Leith waves a hand in front of my face, startling me. “Where did you go?”
“Sorry. Just thinking. Nothing important,” I add. No way am I ruining a perfectly good time by talking about the robberies. “And Julian doesn’t work for the rink. He did a spell so his mate could figure skate and she ended up with a sprained ankle.”
Leith grimaces. “Ouch.”
“Ouch is right.”
“And you’re planning on wearing these skates?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s such a great idea.”
“I’ll be fine. Trust me. And if I’m not, you’ll be here to catch me.”
Leith grins but doesn’t protest. Which makes me wonder just what kind of supe he is. I could just come out and ask, but we only just met, and it feels intrusive. And I figure if Julian’s skates go wacky, I’ll find out soon enough.
Leith watches me unlace my boots and then the skates. I start with the right boot, the one with the neon green paint near the blade, and slip it on. I tighten the laces and grin up at him, excited to try out the figure skating magic, only to stop short. Because in that instant, my entire world starts to change.
One second, Leith is the hot hockey player I’m flirting with—because I’m most definitely flirting, and I’m even starting to like the guy—and the next, ice blue fiery magic connects us. And not just any sort of magic. Mate magic.
It’s the same kind of fiery line that connects Amber to each of her mates after she drank that pumpkin spice latte. And her sister, Violet, to her mates after she read a spelled book. And not just them. Dozens of other girls named after jewels and flowers, all because Julian’s spells went horribly wrong… or maybe horribly right. And though I’m not named after either, I just put on Julian’s spelled skates and bam! The same fated mate magic burns between me and Leith.
His pupils dilate and his gaze intensifies as he stares at me, but he doesn’t seem consciously aware of the mating bond. If he were one of the many shifters who are—like bears and wolves—he’d know I was his mate. And if he were a witch like me, he’d be staring at the magic connecting us. And I’m both relieved and disappointed that he’s not.
On the one hand, if he knew we were mates, it’d be out in the open. On the other, at least he doesn’t try to rush me. Or profess his undying love when the two of us have just met. And no matter how crazy the latter sounds, a lot of shifters believe in love at first sight.
And speaking of love, I swore I wouldn’t give a man my heart. Not since what happened with Ghost. And I’m not sure I’m ready now. But this man isn’t Ghost, and I’ve seen enough mates find each other throughout Silver Springs to know that I should at least give whatever this thing is between us a shot.
Chapter Seven
Leith
There’s something about Wynter. Something that fills me with longing. Drives me crazy with need.
The moment I saw her, my heart leaped. We’d had a kangaroo shifter on the team when I played for the Meese, and shifting into him did that too. I’d hop over the other team to shoot and my heart would be in my throat. Then it’d end up in my gut as my skates hit the ice and the puck hit the net.
Wynter does that to me, too. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if I have some sort of fetish for girls in skates. Which I know for a fact isn’t it. We’ve got six women on the team and seeing them lace up has never made my stick hard. This girl? She’s something else.
And when I looked into her eyes, I just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m getting old. Looking to settle down. It’s not like the thought of retiring hasn’t crossed my mind. Traveling with the team: Maple Ridge one day, Moonlit Falls the next… That shit’s getting old. Not so old that I’d quit today… but one of these days, why the hell not?
She shows no fear as she steps onto the ice on what might be cursed skates. I’m ready to rescue her, but she’s fine. Nothing happens. Guess she was wrong about this Julian and his magic.
“Are you coming or what?” She raises an eyebrow and starts to skate backwards away from me. Fucking backwards. Like, the girl can skate. And it turns me the hell on. Makes me want to forget all about skating and take her back to the Royal Inn. Not that the Duchess of Cocovia, who owns the place, would be too happy if I did. She’s pretty old-fashioned about that sort of thing.
That, and this girl isn’t just some puck bunny or a one-night stand. More than just a girl I take straight to my bed. Which means that for the first time in a long time, I’m going to have to be patient. And take my time. And get to know her first.
So I follow her onto the ice… and shift into fucking Wilson. In bee form.
Yeah, my teammate is a bee shifter, and now here I am, buzzing over the ice.
“Oh my goddess, you’re wearing tiny skates,” Wynter squeals. “And a tiny helmet.”
I prefer miniature, or fun-sized, but she’s not wrong. They’re spelled to shrink and multiply to match my animal form, so I’m wearing six skates. One on each foot. Shifted into a hound of Hades once and had three helmets, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Awww, and a tiny jersey,” Wynter adds as she skates around me to get a better look at my jersey.
I’ve been playing for the Blades since the start of the season. Gotten quite used to wearing red. The number 12 is slapped on the back, and my jersey’s spelled to shift with me until I take it off. All supe uniforms are. Can’t have players impersonating each other mid-game.
“So bee shifter, huh?” Wynter asks.
I’d reply but… well, I’m a fucking bee.
I buzz a few times and try to shift back, but I haven’t had this much trouble controlling my powers since I was a pimply thirteen-year-old lusting after my French teacher.
What? French girls are hot. So are girls named Wynter. And my chameleon powers, well… Let’s just say there’s a reason I hook up with puck bunnies. Sexual frustration makes my shifting go haywire.
I could seduce Wynter the moment I shift back. She’s hot as hell, and fixing my chameleon problem is an added bonus. But I want to get to know her. Really know her, and not in that way. Though I hope to one day soon.