Claiming My Hockey Rival

The Prince and the Prick

Kendric's POV

I stood in the center of the field, steam rising off my shoulders in the freezing Northwood air. My lungs burned, my muscles ached, and I felt alive.

"Zillman, check this out," Leo Vance, my backup, said as we headed toward the tunnels. He pointed his chin toward the quad.

Across the snow-dusted grass, the hockey team was heading toward the Rink. At the front of the pack was Ansel Schmidt. Even from a distance, he looked like he was made of glass and ice. Silver hair, a slim frame that hid way too much muscle, and that "Ice Prince" stare that made everyone feel like they were beneath him.

"The skaters think they’re getting the multipurpose stadium for their 'Invitational' the same weekend as our Gala," Leo sneered. "Ansel ’s already at the admin office to sign the paperwork."

My jaw tightened. "Like hell he is."

I didn't even shower. I threw a hoodie over my pads and marched straight to the administration building, my cleats echoing on the stone floors.

I reached the office door at the same time Ansel did.

I didn't slow down. I used my size, intending to shoulder him out of the way, but Ansel was faster. He pivoted, his shoulder catching mine with a strength that shouldn't have been in that lean body.

"Watch it, Zillman," Ansel snapped. He looked up at me, his sapphire eyes narrow. "You’re tracking mud everywhere. Typical."

"And you’re in my way, Ansel ," I growled, stepping into his personal space.

I’m 6’2” and a dominant Alpha. Usually, when I tower over someone, they have the decency to look intimidated. Ansel just stood there with an irritated face. He was such an odd ball that it got on my nerves.

"The stadium belongs to the football team that weekend," I said, leaning down so our faces were inches apart. "Donors don't pay five figures to watch guys in skirts chase a puck."

Ansel’s lip curled. "It’s called a jersey, you moron. And my 'Invitational' has scouts from the pros coming. Something you wouldn't know about, considering you're just playing for your daddy's approval."

My temper flared. I reached out, grabbing the doorframe behind his head to trap him. "Say that again."

Ansel didn't flinch. He actually leaned in, his chest almost touching mine. "You heard me. Move. Or I’ll make sure the Dean hears about you harassing a Beta."

"Is there a problem?"

The Athletic Director stood in the doorway, looking like he wanted to retire on the spot. He didn't wait for an answer. "Both of you. Inside. Now."

Ten minutes later, I was sitting in a leather chair, my leg bouncing with restless energy. Ansel was next to me, sitting so perfectly straight. His perfect persona was annoying.

"The Board is done with the Rink and the Gridiron treating this campus like a war zone," the AD said, tossing a set of keys onto the desk. "You two are the problem. So, you’re going to be the solution."

"What does that mean?" I asked, a bad feeling crawling up my spine.

"It means you’re moving," the AD said. "The school just finished the 'Unity Suite' in the athlete dorms. Two bedrooms, shared common space. As the captains, you two are the first residents. You move in today."

"You’re joking," Ansel said, his icy calm finally cracking. "I am not living with a football player. I have a schedule. I have... requirements."

"And I have a life," I added, standing up. "I’m not babysitting a skater."

"You’ll do it, or you’ll both sit out the first two games of the season," the AD threatened. "The keys are on the desk. Your stuff is already being moved by the campus staff. Figure it out."

I grabbed the keys before Ansel could reach for them, our fingers brushing for a split second. A weird spark shot up my arm—what was that?

Ansel ripped his hand away as if I’d burned him. He looked shaken, his pale skin flushing slightly.

"Two hours, Zillman," he spat, turning on his heel. "Stay on your side of the apartment, or I’ll sharpen my skates on your face."

I watched him go, the weird spark still tingling in my fingertips. I hated him. I’ve hated him since freshman year. So why was my heart racing like I’d just finished a forty-yard dash?

"This is going to be a disaster," I muttered.

I stormed out of the building, my jaw so tight it ached. I looked down at my hand—the one that had brushed against his. My skin felt like it was buzzing, a restless, electric sensation that made my palm itch.

“What's with the long face? I mean, literally.”

I stopped. Leaning against a stone pillar was Vincent. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed—pale skin, long black hair messy, and a sleepy expression that made him look bored with the world. He was my best friend, one that had just stuck to me without me realizing.

“The Board is getting on my nerves, Vince,” I snapped, walking past him.

"They’re forcing a 'Unity Campaign.' I’m being moved into the new suites."

Vincent straightened up, his eyebrows lifting just a fraction. "The ones by the Rink? Who’s the unlucky roommate?"

"Ansel ," I barked, the name tasting like poison.

Vincent actually let out a low whistle, finally looking awake. "The Ice Prince? Damn. You two in a confined space? The school’s insurance premium is going to triple by Friday."

"It’s not funny," I growled. "My old man is going to lose his mind if he hears I’m 'bonding' with a skater who is supposed to be below him."

"Then don't tell him," Vincent shrugged, falling into step with me. "Just don't kill the guy. We need you on the field, not in a jail cell for murdering a hockey captain."

I turned him out as we reached the dorms, my mind stuck on the way Ansel’s face had flushed—that sudden, brief flash of heat on his pale skin. I clenched my fist, the last thing I wanted on my mind was Ansel right now.

I was definitely going to make him pay for this.