Chapter 5: Midnight Ice

"Cold," Hattie said, already moving. "He needs cold and open space, and he needs it right now."

Rhys had stripped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around Emil's changing hand before I could speak.

"The rink," Rhys said. "Bram."

"Already got the keys, Cap," said Bram, jingling them.

Forty wolves watched the Alpha carry the heir out of the Hall, and nobody said a word.

By midnight the arena was dark except for the work lights over center ice.

The ice was fresh and white, with the Northmen's wolf head painted in the middle.

Emil stood at the boards in borrowed skates and stared at it.

His hand was a boy's hand again.

The gray fur had gone soft and then gone away while Bram laced his boots, and Emil had hardly noticed.

"Is it okay if I fall?" he said.

"It's ice, baby. You're supposed to fall."

He shoved off from the boards, wobbled, and went down on his seat with a delighted shout.

Hattie settled onto the bench with a thermos and a bag of cookies.

"Go on," she said to me. "I can tell you want to."

I had not worn skates in six years.

I laced up the pair Bram handed me, stepped onto the ice, and my body remembered it all at once.

The first long stride went through my hips and down into my blades.

I took a lap with my arms loose and my head up, and for a moment I was nine years old and the best skater in the pack's girls' league.

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