Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 105

**Charlotte**

The question hangs between us. Blake stands there with one hand pressed to the mark on his neck, his eyes fixed on mine as if I might somehow have the answer. I reach inwards for Shanti, expecting something, anything after the way she puffed herself up just a second ago. Instead, all I get is smug silence. She knows something I don’t and has decided I’m not earning it yet. Helpful.

“I don’t know…” I say, giving Blake a small, careful smile. He drags a hand through his hair, a short breath of a laugh leaving him. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Maybe that makes two of us.”

The moment passes as the bell rings. The day keeps moving whether we’re ready or not.

Classes blur together after that. There are voices, and notebooks, lessons I’m sure I’m meant to be paying attention to. But I don’t really hear any of it, because now that I’ve seen it, I can’t stop noticing him. It’s small things, like the way he walks half a step ahead without thinking. The way people shift around him is just slightly faster than before. The way his hand feels around mine, heavier, warmer, like it takes up more space. At lunch, when he leans across me to steal one of Charlie’s chips, his shirt pulls tight across his shoulders, and I stare for a second too long. He catches me watching. “You alright there, pretty girl?”

I blink and shake my head. “Yeah. Fine.”

But the thought doesn’t leave me. What is happening to him?

By the time the last bell rings, I’m more than ready for a distraction. I don’t have work today, and for once, there’s nowhere I need to be except where I choose to be. So I go with the guys to watch them practice. The rink sits low against the afternoon sky, its windows glowing white under the lights. Blake kills the engine, and Charlie is out first, bag slung over his shoulder as he jogs toward the doors. Theo follows, dragging his gear and muttering about faking an injury if Coach makes them run suicides again. Blake comes around to my side before I can open my door, taking my bag from me without asking.

We head inside together, where the colder air settles over us. The smell of the ice, rubber, and old gear settles in my lungs. The boys peel off toward the change rooms, laughing and shoving at each other. Blake slows just long enough to glance at me. “You good up there by yourself?” I nod, and he leans in, presses a quick kiss to my temple, then disappears down the tunnel with the others. I watch him go. Then I turn and head up the stands, my shoes ringing softly against the metal steps until I reach the rail and settle in, leaning forward so I can see the whole rink.

The tunnel doors swing open after a few minutes, and the boys start coming out. I watch Charlie already half laughing, hopping the barrier and dropping onto the rubber mat before crouching to tighten his laces. Theo follows, nearly slipping before catching himself, shoving someone behind him without even looking. Then Blake steps through. His stick rests across the back of his shoulders for a second as he rolls his neck, loosening something there before dropping it back into his grip. Even from up here, I can see it. He looks different. The team fall into place around him as he pushes off in long, smooth strides, carrying him out toward the centre.

Coach’s whistle cuts through the rink, snapping everyone into motion. Pucks scatter out across the ice as the boys push off, blades biting in with a low scrape that carries up into the stands. Sticks meet rubber in quick succession, catching, redirecting, sending it on again as the drill finds its rhythm. At first, everything looks normal. Then Blake takes a pass without slowing, the puck tapping once against his stick before he sends it straight back across the ice. It hits Charlie’s blade with a hard crack that echoes loud enough to turn a couple of heads. Charlie adjusts on instinct, glancing up at him for half a second before passing it on.

Blake cuts hard at the far end, and snow sprays out behind him. More than it should. He drives back the other way, faster, longer strides, pushing harder each time. Shanti finally decides to speak to me again then. *They are changing.* Of course, when I ask her what the hell she is talking about, she goes quiet again. Coach switches drills, and I continue to watch as they move into contact work along the boards. They move in a rhythm of pass, pivot, shoulder in, recover, reset. Blake takes a hit, but he barely moves, which isn’t abnormal for a wolf, but the other guy stumbles like he hit a brick wall instead of a person.

Then Theo cuts in close, skating shoulder to shoulder with Blake, saying something I can’t hear. Blake answers without looking. Theo grins, then he shoves him. It’s nothing but a quick bump. Blake shoves him back, and that’s when Theo goes flying. His skates shoot out from under him, his body shooting sideways across the ice before he slams into the boards hard enough to rattle the glass. I stand quickly to my feet, gasping as I watch Theo catch himself, glove slamming into the barrier as he steadies, chest rising sharply. His head snaps toward Blake. “What the actual hell?” I hear Theo loud and clear as he yells. Charlie bursts into laughter with the rest of the team, but Blake isn’t laughing. He’s already skating toward Theo, hands lifting slightly. “Theo—”

“Did you just try to kill me?”

“I barely touched you.”

“You barely touched me?” Theo slaps the boards. “I saw my ancestors.”

The team laughs harder, as Blake looks down at his hands and turns them slightly. Through the bond, I feel his confusion and a flicker of alarm. He didn’t mean to do that.

Charlie skates over to them, still grinning. “You alright, princess?”

Theo shoves him weakly. “Leave me alone.” But he’s watching Blake now, not laughing. Watching. Coach blows the whistle, sharp and loud. “Reset.”

The drill keeps moving, the noise filling the rink again, but it doesn’t sound the same anymore. I don’t take my eyes off him. Blake skates through it like nothing’s changed, like he didn’t just send Theo into the boards hard enough to see the gods. But I saw it, and now I can’t unsee it. What sort of gift did we give him?