Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 120031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
He hated that his mother couldn’t be happy for him; hated that he couldn’t share his happiness with her. He might have only known Casey a week, but she was everything to him. He couldn’t imagine ever not waking to the sight of her right there. Just the thought of it made his stomach harden.
Each morning they had breakfast together at his lodge or at her apartment, they moved around each other with total ease. They had a rhythm already, like they’d known each other for years.
Roni offered Eli some of her popcorn, but he shook his head. “Still pissed at me, huh?”
Marcus frowned. “Why would he be pissed at you? What did you do this time?”
“Oh, she only taped a harmonica to the grill of the SUV,” said Eli. “I was driving Casey here. Every time the SUV hit forty miles per hour, it set off the fucking harmonica. The wailing sounds were downright painful. I almost called for road assistance—that would have been embarrassing as all hell. Seriously, Roni, can’t you be normal for, like, a day?”
Roni lifted a brow. “Says the asshole who put lubricant in my hand sanitizer bottle!”
Eli shrugged. “I’m sure you and Marcus found some use for it.”
“Children, children, let it go for now,” said Nick. “How long has Casey been playing for her team, Eli?”
“Since she was fifteen,” Eli told him. “And yes, I have considered that it will be hard to get her to switch packs if it means she won’t be allowed to play for her team anymore.”
“As long as you’ve considered it,” said Nick.
A whistle was blown, and both teams exploded into action. Eli forgot about his pack and focused solely on his mate.
Casey always seemed to be in motion. Jogging. Running. Tackling. Feinting. Her every move was fast and fluid and skilled.
Really, her speed was incredible. There was truly no other word for it. She didn’t pick up speed. She shot into a sprint like a bullet zooming out of a gun. Moreover, she played with a controlled aggression that had to be somewhat intimidating for the opposing team. His wolf fucking loved it.
She focused on that game with a concentration so intense it was like nothing else existed for her. Her eyes hardly ever left the ball. She went after it again and again in the same fierce, determined way a predator ran down its prey. Once in possession of the ball, she kicked, dribbled, volleyed, headed.
She never tried to dominate the game. She created scoring chances for her teammates and passed the ball when she needed to. But if she could get off a shot, if there was a decent chance she could score, she wouldn’t hesitate to try.
The spectators could sure make some noise—catcalling, barking encouraging remarks, chanting the names of players. They all seemed to love it whenever the players got rough with each other, which was often. Not just tripping people up. There was head-butting, heels slamming into people’s insteps, elbows ramming into the back of heads—all seemed accidental of course, but they weren’t.
The Wildcats’ goal keeper was damn fucking good, but not good enough. Only twenty minutes into the first half of the game, a hard kick from Casey sent the ball zipping through the air and into the corner of the net.
Eli was on his feet before he knew it, cheering as loudly as the rest of the spectators. Her team lost their damn minds—rushing at her, lifting her in the air, practically roaring with triumph. Casey’s gaze flicked to where he and his pack mates stood, her eyes bright with joy.
And then the teams went at it again.
The Wildcats were skilled and sneaky—a good combination. But Casey and her teammates seemed to preempt their cunning moves. Time and time again the ball came sailing toward the Hounds’ net. Time and time again her teammates were there, shielding the ball from the keeper and either blasting it downfield or passing it on.
Still, the Wildcats managed to score a goal just before half-time, which pissed Eli off. His pack mates, who’d been completely sucked into the game, whined and bit out curses.
Casey didn’t look at him or the other spectators when she left the field for the break. Nor did she even so much as glance in their direction when she returned. Her head was completely in the game.
The second half went a little slower, but the teams still pushed themselves hard. They were tiring, though. And he knew the baking heat had to be getting to them.
A fight almost broke out at one point; it took Casey and two of her teammates to drag the team captain away when she would have dived at an opposing player for breaking her nose—something that wasn’t considered a big deal, apparently, because the ref only issued the offending Wildcat a yellow card. Even as the Hound’s captain snapped her nose back into place, she spat at the other player.