Beast Behaving Badly (40 page)

“What's up, Blayne?”

“I'm bored.”

“Okay.” He pointed at the floor where he'd tossed the box of condoms after taking out a handful. “Get the rest of the condoms.”

“Orrrrrr . . .” she said, drawing out the word.

“Or what?” She grinned and he tried to turn away from her. “Forget it.”

“Please? Please!”

She wiggled again on his chest.

“Stop doing that.” She was making him hard and if she wasn't in the mood that was simply irritating.

She leaned in, nuzzling his neck. “Please?” she begged.

“Fine. But we have to clean up first and I'll need to fix that door.” He was pretty sure the grizzly didn't consider shoving the door back into place technically fixing it since anyone could simply take it off again without tools.

“Okay! I'll change the sheets!” She jumped off his chest and cartwheeled naked out of the room. When he heard panting, Bo raised himself up on his elbows and watched Blayne chase her tail.

“I've never seen anyone this excited about going to the gym.”

She shifted back to human, stumbling into the door from the dizziness. “You've got the Cup finals coming up and the Babes have the championship. And we will win. Because we rock!” She raised her arms into the air. “Woo-hoo!”

Bo threw his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, wincing from the scratches and bite marks he'd gotten from his mouthy little mate. “Just remember, you're going to have to bury that nice shit if you want to win against the Texans.”

“Derby is not hockey. Derby girls are loyal and nice.”

“Loser talk,” he muttered, scratching his head, once again wishing he could cut his hair and have it stay short for longer than twenty-four hours.

When he raised his gaze, he jerked back a little. “What?” he asked Blayne. When she didn't answer, he shook his head. “You said you wanted to go to the gym.”

“We've got time.”

“That's not the point,” he said, climbing across the bed to get away from her. “We had a plan.”

“Plans change,” she laughed, coming after him. “And you look so cute covered in me!”

He made it off the bed, but the vicious wolfdog grabbed his leg and lifted, flipping him forward.

“How do you do that?”
he demanded once he hit the floor.

She landed on his chest, small hands pressing into his flesh, wet pussy rocking against his cock, although he wasn't in that pussy—yet.

“Skill.” She leaned in and kissed his chest, moving up until she reached his throat. “Now come on. Let's fuck so we can get to the gym before we lose a shot at all the best treadmills.”

Like there was ever a time he didn't get the best treadmill. But Bo wasn't in the mood to hear how mean he was.

“Okay,” he sighed, grabbing her shoulders and dropping her to her back, Blayne giggling the entire time. “But only because you're
making
me do this.”

“I know. I'm such a bad influence.”

“My God. You so are.”

EPILOGUE

T
he end-game buzzer went off and Blayne took a quick look at the scoreboard. A blow-out. A fucking blow-out! She'd done it! Just like Bo had told her she could in a really sweet pep talk before the bout started. She'd battered, abused, and maimed the entire time, following each assault with a “Sorry!” said in her sweetest voice. And because of that, because she'd played like Bo Novikov, the Babes had won the championship!

Of course, it was also the reason her entire team was surrounding her. Not to pat her on the back and carry her around on their shoulders but to protect her from the Longfangs who were coming to kick her ass. It was a nasty fight, too, but the refs and security guards finally calmed everyone down.

With both teams under control, the Babes all gawked at Blayne.

“What?” she demanded. “You wanted to win.”

No one argued with her, and, instead, Gwen, their captain Cherry, and Blayne all headed up to the makeshift dais to get their trophy. But because it was the Championship, there was a rather long, bullshit ceremony to sit through with a former derby star giving a long-winded speech before handing over the damn trophy. Unfortunately that wasn't working for Blayne. Leaning in, she whispered to Gwen, “Dude, we've gotta go. The Carnivores have gone into overtime.” The only tragedy of this night was that what should be the final game of the hockey Cup finals was taking place at the same time. But overtime at least gave Blayne and Gwen a chance to see their men play.

“How do you know that?” Gwen asked.

Blayne motioned to the wild dogs in the audience, Phil holding up a sign that said, “They've gone into overtime.”

“Cherry?” Blayne asked, making sure to use her puppy dog eyes. She'd found feline hybrids couldn't resist that.

“Let's do it,” Cherry said. “ 'Cause I'm bored anyway.”

The presenter turned, her hands around the trophy. “And it is my great pleasure to give this year's championship trophy to—”

“Thanks!” Blayne and Gwen said together, each grabbing hold of one end of the trophy and jumping off the dais.

“Let's go, Babes!” Cherry called out, the rest of the Babes falling in behind Blayne and Gwen as they tore out of the stadium and into the hall. They skated down to the elevator, people diving out of their way or plastering themselves against the wall to avoid getting hit. They dived into the elevator, the entire team forcing its way inside. The doors closed, and they waited for it to get to the main stadium floor.

The doors opened, and the Babes skated out, pushing drunk shifters lingering in the hallway out of their way.

“Left!” Cherry called out. “Left!” As one, they turned left and skated down a flight of stairs to the VIP seats that had been held for them just in case. They moved in, Blayne and Gwen tossing the oversized trophy to the male lions sitting behind them and several seats over.

“Oh, come on!” Mitch said. “I can't see around this thing!”

“Too bad!” Gwen snapped. “I can't believe you came to this instead of our bout.”

“Hockey,” Mitch said.

Ignoring the bickering siblings, Blayne focused on the ice and Bo. They were up against the Alaskan Bears, and the blood on the ice and protective glass was pretty dramatic.

Bo's right eye was swollen shut and the left side of his jaw had been torn open. But he had the puck . . . and every one of the Alaskan Bears was on his ass.

The rest of his team was working to get him free so he could take a shot at the opposition's goal but the Alaskan Bears weren't having it.

Bo skated behind the other team's goal. Although they were all similar in size, no one had Bo Novikov on speed, so they went at him from both sides, blocking him in.

A hand fell on her shoulder and Blayne looked behind her. “Grigori!” She jumped up and went over the seats, throwing herself into the big polar's arms.

“Watch the skates, woman!” Mitch complained next to them.

Ignoring Mitch, Blayne hugged Bo's uncle. “I'm so sorry I couldn't pick you up at the airport.”

“No problem. The boy sent a car and driver.” Then he made his eyebrows dance a little, but she knew he probably felt like king of the world about it.

“And how's Mr. Peabody?” Blayne asked, making sure the name sounded particularly persnickety.

“He still won't get out from under my couch when I'm home,” Grigori complained. “And I'm not calling that damn dog Mr. Peabody.”

“Then you better come up with something,” she shot back. “Or I'm sticking with Mr. Peabody!”

“Hank,” Marci Luntz cut in. “He calls him Hank.”

Aaaah
. Blayne smiled in relief. If Grigori named the pittie, then the newly christened Hank would be safe and now had his “forever home.” Woo-hoo!

“Hi, Marci.” Still holding on to Grigori, Blayne leaned over and kissed the doctor on the cheek. “How are you?”

“I'm fine, dear. Fine. And you look . . . like you've been through hell.”

“Only a little.” Blayne shrugged. “We won.”

“Of course you did,” Marci said as if talking to the stupidest woman she'd ever met. “We're so sorry we couldn't go to both games, though.”

“No. You've gotta be here for Bo. Besides,” she grinned, “I had my—”

“Could you embarrass me more?” her father snarled, moving into the aisle and dropping into the seat Bo had reserved for him, just in case. “Couldn't you have at least waited until that woman finished her speech?”

“She was taking too long. And don't snarl at me, old man!”

Marci shook her head and chuckled. “I swear. You two.”

“He started it.”

The crowd roared, and Blayne turned to see that Bo had dropped the gloves and gone at it with one of the bears. She winced when Bo got the bear on the ground and then smashed in his face—repeatedly—with the bear's own helmet.

“And I heard,” Marci sniffed, “that
some
people were worried my Bold had gone soft now that he was in love.”

“Who said that?'

In answer to Blayne's question, Marci glanced over at Dad and then Grigori.
Who knew these two jokers would become friends?

“Well,” Blayne began, “I hope you both realize now that”—Blayne jumped when Bo roared and threw the bear he'd been assaulting down the length of the ice, the grizzly slamming right into and
through
the protective glass—“the chances of him becoming a less aggressive player will probably not happen.”

“I think we see that.” Grigori placed Blayne back into her seat beside Gwen.

Once she was settled, she grinned over at Gwen. “Don't be jealous I have more bears who love me than you do.”

Gwen laughed. “Shut up.”

They were down to the last twelve seconds, and Bo had the puck again. He was forced toward his own team's goal, Ric crouching and ready. “What a position to be in for two to three hours,” Blayne thought as she watched Bo trying to find a way out of the pack of bears swarming him. He was keeping the puck away from the other team but he wasn't scoring either. She glanced at the scoreboard. No one had gotten a goal? Holy shit. The game would go on all night at this rate.

Bo lifted his head and she saw his eyes narrow.

“MacRyrie!” he suddenly called out and, the entire crowd gasping in shock, Bo Novikov slammed that shot at the only one of his teammates not trapped in by a bunch of Alaskan bears. The only one near Lock was one of the opposition's foxes and, after snapping out of his initial shock, Lock sent the little guy flying before he caught the puck with his stick and sped off down the ice toward the other team's goal.

The two teams scrambled to follow, but Bo shot out from the rest and was in the goal crease by the time Lock arrived. The grizzly passed the puck to Bo but the goalie was already on him, waiting for that move. A move everyone had made because Bo almost always made the goal. But, with both teams bearing down on him, and two seconds left on the clock, Bo passed the puck right back to Lock.

Startled, the grizzly slapped it away and into the back of the Alaskan goalie's head. It ricocheted off and into the net. There was a weird moment of shocked silence throughout the entire stadium even as the buzzer went off. Because someone other than The Marauder had made the winning goal in a final playoff game. It had been unheard of for years.

But, for once, Bo had done what was right for the team. And that's why she was the first one up and screaming,
“Yes!”
Both her arms raised high in the air. And once Blayne said it, the rest of the crowd joined in. The cheers, roars, howling, and stomping, shaking the walls of the entire sports center and probably freaking out any full-humans on the top floors.

 

 

The grizzly stared at Bo, brown eyes wide, mouth open. It probably wasn't MacRyrie's first goal, but most likely his first winning goal in a season-final game. Bo grinned and winked at him seconds before the entire New York Carnivores team slammed into the grizzly, swarming over him.

Bo wiped blood off his face and started to skate away, but Van Holtz cut him off.

The wolf removed his goalie mask and said, “Nice.”

Bo nodded. He started to move again, and again Van Holtz moved in front of him. “Should I contact your agent about re-upping your contract?”

Tricky canine. But it was a good time to ask wasn't it? Not because of the win, though.

Bo looked across the ice to the VIP seating. Blayne was hugging Gwen, the two females still in their derby gear. For once, Bo didn't feel the need to move on. And the goddamn wolf knew it, too.

“Yeah,” Bo said. “You can call him.”

“Excellent.”

“But I want a seal farm.”

Van Holtz gaped up at him. “You want a what?”

“A seal farm. With fresh seals.”

“How . . . revolting.”

“I don't judge you killing Bambi.”

“Not every deer we take down is Bambi.”

“And I want more control of the team.” Before the wolf could freak out at that particular request, Bo said, “I may want to coach one day.” He thought about it another second and added, “Or own my own team. One or the other.”

Van Holtz skated off. “We'll talk more later.”

Bo headed back to the team's bench, but before he reached it, he had to stop and watch a woman try and roller skate across ice. It was . . . interesting.

“What are you doing?” he asked when she was close enough.

“Trying to reach you.”

“Leap for it, or we'll be here all night.”

She did, Blayne landing right in his arms.

“How did you do?” he asked, enjoying how she immediately put her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. She let him hold her like this a lot, and he loved it.

“We won! But apparently I'm as hated as you now.” She pouted. “I said I was sorry every time. I even meant it!”

“Then they're just being unreasonable.”

“That's how I feel.” She grinned. “But you . . . passing the puck.” She hugged him. “I'm so proud of you!”

“I wanted to win. If that meant passing my puck to that idiot—”

“Sha-sha-sha.” She put her hand over his mouth. “Don't ruin the moment for me.” He caught her fingers in his mouth and tickled them with his tongue.

Giggling, Blayne said, “Maybe we've changed places. I'm the heartless cruel one now and you're the nice one.”

“I've learned anything is possible—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Novikov, can I have your—”

“—Do you not see I'm busy?”
he bellowed into some wild dog's face. He focused back on Blayne so he didn't have to witness the wild dog–male sobbing that followed. “Where were we?”

Blayne's smile was soft, her palm pressing against his cheek. “It doesn't matter.”

“I guess we have to go out with the old men brigade tonight?”

They both looked over at the VIP seats where two males were talking, Dr. Luntz—he'd never call her Marci—sitting on his uncle's lap.

“I never thought they'd become so friendly. He invited Dad to visit next month.”

“Maybe we can all go.” Blayne perked up—if it was possible for her to perk up more—her smile huge.

“You mean like a vacation?”

“A vacation with skating.”

“Yay! Ice pond skating! And running in snow! I can't wait!”

He had the perkiest girlfriend in the world. It should annoy him. It didn't.

“It'll be a family trip. I like your father,” he added honestly. How could he not? The man had told him exactly how to handle Blayne's clutter problem: “Since you have the space, give Blayne her own room and let her mess it up as much as she wants. Never go into it, and never ask about it. As far as you're concerned, it doesn't exist. Just make sure she keeps all her shit in there with the door closed, and you can keep the rest of the place just as you want it. In the end, you'll both be happier.” His idea had worked like a charm too.

But the time management thing? “Forget it, kid,” Ezra Thorpe had said. “You're on your own.”

“Hey,” Van Holtz called out, motioning to them with his hand. “We're taking team pictures with the Babes. You two get over here!”

“In a second,” Bo told him. He hitched Blayne up a little higher. “I have a question first.”

“Of course I'll marry you!” Blayne cheered, throwing her arms around his neck.