Sugar and Ice (Raptors Book 4)

by RJ Scott

  I picked up a stone and threw it into the dark to fuck knows where, then another, and another.

  I’d finally thought that somehow I’d made it to a team where I could start again. Here I was just a player, a skater intent on getting his team to the playoffs, I’d even payed Lacey to stop spreading lies.

  One million dollars for her silence. Not that it started out as a million for silence, but it sure ended up that way. My heart ached, and I rubbed my chest. For a few brief weeks I’d actually thought that I was… No. Don’t go there.

  I didn’t care about the money, I just wanted her to leave me alone, to stop lying, to get over the fact I’d broken off our engagement.

  Guilt consumed me and I stopped throwing stones, bending at the waist as the pain in my head grew. I’d really thought I could make a life with Lacey, maybe have some kids, and I’d given her friendship, respect, and fidelity. None of what we’d had was real, just my agent saying my optics were bad, but if I’d said no to start with, if I’d never proposed to her, if…

  And now, the worst of what she knew had been added to her blog, that I’d been in lust with freaking Tennant Rowe. Yet I’d still come to this stupid party. I was ashamed, mortified, angry, but I’d showered, shaved, done my hair, dressed nice, and I’d actually thought it was a good idea to come here.

  Face it, own it, laugh it off.

  And then Vlad had joined in the freaking joke, and my heart hurt. I knew the captain found me irritating, probably thought I would break up the Raptors, and from his actions it was clear that beyond the ice he didn’t see value in me, but to take what had hit the Internet today and push the joke this far? That was shit, and it hurt, and I needed to work my way through the anger.

  “Been looking for you.” A voice came from the darkness, and the fury at Vlad subsided in an instant and instead it was embarrassment that flooded me. Ryker had found me.

  “You’ve found me,” I didn’t move from the bench, but I shuffled to one side in case Ryker wanted to sit down.

  “We probably need to talk,” Ryker murmured, and sat on the bench at the opposite end.

  “Do we have to?” I was mortified that I was stuck in the darkness with the one person I’d hoped to avoid being alone with. In my head I laughed off today’s blog post. Ryker would have been in a group of teammates and I would have endured some teasing, but then it would’ve been over. Planting myself here, all worked up over Vlad had now made me vulnerable to a heartfelt conversation.

  “Well, the blog said you were in love with Ten, and that is why he left Dallas, because you made him feel like he didn’t fit there.”

  “I’m sorry, Ryker—”

  “Well, it’s horseshit. He was traded because of cap space, we all know that. Dallas couldn’t have both of you. So anyway, the Railers is the best thing that ever happened to him, and he didn’t leave Dallas because of you.”

  What was Ryker saying? He didn’t sound like he was accusing me, if anything he sounded like he was supporting me.

  “None of it was true.”

  “Ten always thought you were a better player.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah, felt like he would always be second best, and that he’d find first line success elsewhere. Not only did he find that with the Railers, but he found Dad.”

  I buried my face in my hands. Ryker was warning me off from his stepdad. I knew this was going to happen. Fucking Lacey and her fucking blog post.

  “I’m sorry Ry, you know I wouldn’t—”

  “I had this huge poster on my wall, of you and Ten, remember that back-to-back photo shoot you did for Bauer?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “Two really gorgeous guys, and I slashed you so hard.”

  “‘Slashed’?”

  “You and Ten, kissing and all kinds of romantic storylines in my head, it’s what teenagers do, you know; you can’t tell anyone though, because now you know an embarrassing story about me, and we’re even.”

  It took me a moment to process. “You’re not angry about what was posted?”

  “That you had a thing for my stepdad? You’re a red-blooded bisexual male, you’d be an idiot not to. Well, at least, I assume you’re bi, given the whole nearly married thing, unless that was—”

  “Bi, yes, but I promise you it was a crush on him, and I’d never act on what I used to feel about Ten—”

  “You mean try and get between Dad and him?” Ryker huffed and then sidled closer and elbowed me in the side. “Dude, you’d be on the losing side there; besides, my old man still has some moves.”

  I wanted to confide in Ryker, thought maybe I had a friend here, I wanted to tell him how Vlad had pretend-kissed me, and that he’d made me feel like shit, but I didn’t. I’d shared things like that before, with Lacey, and look where that had gotten me.

  “So, are there any other secrets your ex is going to reveal?”

  I couldn’t think of any truths that she could pass around like candy, hoping to win friends and influence people. I thought the Ten thing was probably the worst of it. Oh wait, there was one more thing.

  “I cried at the end of Titanic, and A Dog’s Life,” I admitted, “and that is not what big, strong, physical hockey players do.”

  Ryker pulled out his phone, and in a few keystrokes he’d done something on Instagram, and my phone vibrated, because, of course I followed the guys on the team who had social media accounts. Ryker’s was one of the most vocal, for LGBTQ+ inclusion, for pranks, for puppies, kittens, kids in need. He posted nearly every day with one thing or another, and a lot of times it was of him and his gorgeous Jacob.

  “Look at your phone,” Ryker instructed.

  I pulled out my phone, clicking the notification that he’d posted, and I couldn’t help a snort of laughter. I read out his post, “Is it just me who cries at the end of Titanic and A Dog’s Life? Asking for a Friend.” Then there were the additional yes and no options, and even in the few seconds it had been live there had been votes.

  “Get out ahead of it, see?” Ryker murmured. “Anyway, we need your help dude, Apollo is threatening to serve up emu steak on the barbecue, wanna go see?”

  As long as I don’t have to talk to Vlad. “I’ll be right up.” Then, as soon as Ryker had fist-bumped me and left, I pressed the No button on the Instagram question, and in doing so I owned the fact that I cried as well, and it wasn’t a secret anymore.

  I still had to face the Railers, I still had to play Tennant Rowe and be able to look him in the eye and own that as well, but hell, I was a grown-ass man, and I could do that in a heartbeat.

  So I headed back and entered into the jokey debate about how great emu steak would be, particularly with proper Texas barbecue sauce, and it only ended when Colorado sat on Alex’s head.

  Vlad was nowhere to be seen, and a small part of me was concerned. Of course largely, I remained angry that he’d decided to join in on the pranking in such an intimate way, kissing me for God’s sake, still, where was he? Maybe he hadn’t been pranking me, maybe he had, but I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with him, so armed with two plates of food, I headed for the last place I’d seen him, and found him with ease. He was sitting on the grass by the water, in a lotus position, and for a second I wondered if I was interrupting some weird-ass middle-of-a-party yoga session. Then the anger thing pushed to the front and I whistled, a little pleased when he jumped and unfolded himself. I thrust the plate of food at him as he stood. He fumbled, then caught it, before placing it with care on the ground

  “I apologize,” he ground out, “it was inappropriate—”

  “Just because I had a thing for Tennant Rowe doesn’t mean that anyone can just—”

  “You have a thing for Rowe?”

  “Had. I had a thing—”

  “Oh.” He looked lost for words, even a little disappointed.

  I put my food down next to his. “Wait, you mean you actually hadn’t read today’s blog post from my former fiancée?”

  “No. I mean, I re
ad a nature article about global warming and birds that—”

  “Then you had no idea I had a thing for Tennant Rowe?”

  “I don’t understand this thing you keep saying, were you in a relationship with—?”

  “God, no.”

  If it was possible, he seemed even more confused, and I found I was liking his confidence slipping. This was a tiny glimpse of the man beneath the icy façade.

  “So…” he began, “the apology.”

  “Why did you kiss me?”

  “Tate—”

  “Is this some Russian anti-gay thing where you trick people out of the closet, and then give them hell?”

  He reared back at that, and the shock on his face was real. “No—”

  “Then who the hell is Zorya and why does she think I deserve to be a star?”

  He gaped, then stepped away from me, and I genuinely thought he was making a run for it, but I needed an answer and so I followed him. All too soon I realized my error as we were now farther back in darkness, isolated from the rest of the team, and he had his back to a palm tree. Not only that, but there was only a foot between us.

  “Vlad, who is Zorya?” I asked again, “sister, mom, friend… girlfriend?”

  He cleared his throat, “Zorya is the Goddess of the Dawn and the daughter of the sun god Dazbog. It’s a… thing.”

  Gods and goddesses? Who would have thought that our focused, stubborn, icy captain had the heart of a poet. Good to know. Also, his gruff Russian accent was hella sexy and I had him backed up against a tree. For some reason he thought this goddess had blessed me with something cool like being a star. So what the hell had he kissed me for? Was it even possible that my lust toward him was reciprocated? Was it feasible that all the time spent pining for Ten could be forgotten and I’d actually get a proper kiss from Vlad?

  “If you weren’t messing with me before, then how about kissing me again?” I fronted, chest out, shoulders back.

  “It’s a bad idea,” he said, and attempted to sidestep me. He was a defender, he was bigger than me, he could’ve hip checked me out of the way and I’d have been toast, but I was younger, and faster. I blocked him in an instant, and hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to shove one of his best players into the undergrowth.

  He stepped left, I followed him, and he growled at me, “eto glupo nepravil'no.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He muttered it again, then sighed. “That this is stupid wrong,” he explained.

  He feinted right, then left, but I knew his moves; I’d watched him on the ice, gone up against him often enough in the last seven years, seen the intentions in his posture, knew him so well, and abruptly we were face-to-face and there was nothing between us at all.

  With a growl he grasped my arms, lifted me off the ground and turned us so that I was the one with my back to the tree. I was hard already, I mean, fuck, he’d just lifted me, and turned me and—

  The kiss was brutal at first, clashing teeth, and parrying tongues, and it was heat and fire, and lust, and everything that made me hard. He cursed between kisses, pressing me against the tree, and I cursed back, at least in my head. I scrambled to get a hold of him, gripping his shirt, his arms, holding on for dear life.

  Then the kisses slowed, and he cradled my face, “eto glupo nepravil'no,” he repeated

  I slid my hand from his hip, up his chest, and to his face, and I had all the words inside me that I wanted to say.

  “Captain!” Colorado called from somewhere close. “Yo, Iceman, we have a barbecue sauce emu emergency!”

  We parted so fast that Vlad stumbled and I reached out to steady him, only for him to turn his back on me and stride away. So much for a connection.

  I stayed where I was for a good five minutes, or at least until my cock had decided it was getting nothing, and went back to sleep, then sauntered up to join the rest of the guys.

  “Sugar!” Colorado yelled, and everyone turned to look at me. “Iceman was no help at all, you tell these assholes that emu steak is not on the menu!” He had laughter in his eyes, he knew it was all a joke, and I knew he loved an ongoing joke.

  “I’d like to see one of you catch it first,” I deadpanned, and various guys started bragging how the emu didn’t stand a chance against them. Particularly if said emu was on skates and therefore at a disadvantage. There was laughter, and Vlad was right in the middle of it, even if he did glance at me every so often as if I was a question that needed an answer. I was done with tonight, and I genuinely hoped that the drama was over. I was so close to giving my excuses to leave but Colorado wasn’t letting me get away with things so easy.

  “So, Sugar, is it true what I read about you and Tennant Rowe?”

  I fake-clutched my chest. “I didn’t even know you could read, Colorado.”

  He snorted, and then made a lewd action with his hands, “were you bumping uglies?” Colorado smirked at me.

  Alex smacked him upside the head, Ryker shoved him, and not a single guy was staring at me with anything like distaste or hate. In fact everyone was laughing; even Vlad had a cautious smile.

  “I wish,” I deadpanned, and Ryker snorted a laugh and slapped me on the back.

  Maybe I wasn’t tired after all, in fact I thought I’d stay there, join in the crap, stare a bit at Vlad when he wasn’t looking, and chill.

  Perfect.

  Well, perfect, if only I hadn’t spotted Vlad staring at me with utter focus on several occasions.

  Damn the man for being sex on legs, with his intriguing eyes, and his tight ass, and his muscles, and damn my weakness for all of those things.

  Chapter Six

  Vlad

  Weeks since that kiss, and I clung hard to a saying my father had that goes something like, “If you work hard enough all your troubles will disappear.”

  My father, as much as I loved him, was wrong about that. I had been working harder than ever for over thirty days, and the biggest trouble that I had was still showering naked. Of course I did not expect Tate to bathe fully clothed; that would have been foolish. But he could have been less attractive. His ass could’ve been flabby, his cock tiny, his smile lacking teeth. Many players lacked teeth. Why wasn’t he also? And why was I mulling over his smile, ass, and prick while clocking in a few miles on the stationary bike. I needed to pedal harder. Sweat ran into my eyes, my thighs screamed, but I cranked up my speed and incline.

  “You know if that bike ever breaks free your pale ass will be in Mammoth before you can stop.”

  I threw a dark look at Colorado lounging against the wall of the training room sipping some sort of dark red guava drink. He was clad only in shorts and flip-flops with big purple rubber flowers. And of course tattoos. Most were flaming skulls or flaming guitars or flaming pigs. His newest was on his pectoral and it was of that stupid emu complete with bowler hat.

  “My pale ass will be fine.” I slowed nominally but left the incline steep. He made a sound around his straw, tossed his long dark hair from his face, and continued to stand there watching. After another half mile I had to ask. “Is there something that you wish from me?”

  “Yeah, well, sort of.” He flip-flopped over and climbed onto the empty bicycle beside me. My eyes rolled. This was not what I wanted this morning. Did he not realize that I had to purge my body and mind before the rest of the team showed up? “Man, I hate bikes. They squish my balls.”

  I plucked the towel draped over the handlebars to mop my face. “Then perhaps you should go find something else to do. The elliptical way over there?” I jerked my sodden head toward the far side of the room.

  “Nah, this is good. I’ll just shift the boys to the right.” Which he did with his free hand. “So, about you and Tate…”

  My foot slid off the pedal. I tossed another glare his way. He waggled one dark eyebrow while innocently sucking on a yellow straw.

  “Do not be an idiot. There is nothing between Tate and me.”

  “Right, because you’re straight and he’s
not this fucking sexy-ass beast. Come on, Iceman, bark up the tea.”

  I blinked at his confusing words and because the salt of my sweat was burning my eyes. “I don’t drink tea.”

  “No, you asshole. Give me the tea. Like, in gossip, you know what gossip is, right?” He made a rude noise with his straw, a slurpy sound that grated on my already frayed nerves.

  “Of course I know what gossip is. I’ve lived and played in this country for over thirteen years. My grasp of your chaotic language is probably better than yours.”

  “You didn’t know what bark up the tea meant, just saying.” He shrugged, slurped, and then settled his gaze on me. “Anyway, so you and Tate have a vibe thing. I’ve seen it since the end of the preseason party a month ago.”

  I stopped pedaling completely. “You’ve seen nothing. There is nothing to see. He is my teammate. I’m his captain. Having a thing with him would be unprofessional.”

  “Dude, seriously? Unprofessional?”

  “Yes, unprofessional. People would say he had an unfair advantage, that I was coddling him, giving him preferential treatment. Also, I am not gay.”

  “Oh, so it’s that way, then? Are you hiding it because you’re Russian? I mean, I get that if you are. Got to think of the folks back home and all…”

  “No, it is not because I’m Russian. I…there is nothing to hide because I am not… Why are you looking at me in that manner?” I slid off the bike, legs wobbly, and stumbled for the door.

  “Hey, Icey Cool, come on, don’t give me the cold shoulder.” He howled at his comment. I growled. Penn appeared beside me, grinning like a drunken dodo. “Dude, Ice, Cap, come on. Seriously, I’m just trying to get you to see what we all see.”

  I spun on our goalie, hands itching to shove him into the nearest wall and knock some sense into his head. “You have fed too much on the tit of rock and roll!”

  “Oh my God, that is such a cool song title. Suckled on the tit of rock and roll! Dude! You’re a fucking genius!” He flung his drink over his shoulder, grabbed my face with both hands, and kissed me on the mouth.