Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (3 page)

It took Dean less than a second to figure out
who the man was. Landon Bower, the Cobra's new goaltender.
Twenty-five and at the top of his game, Bower had been stuck on
Montreal's farm team in Hamilton his whole career. The Cobras were
desperate for a starting goaltender and Bower was everything they
needed. Talented and kinky. The kink wasn't a requirement, but it
made things easier. A good third of the team was in the lifestyle
in one way or another. It wasn't exactly conventional for a team's
general manager to seek out players with certain sexual . . .
leanings
, but it tightened the ranks, which was exactly what
Dean wanted.

"This is not what my club usually looks
like." Dean motioned towards the set up with his bottle. "Delgado's
daughter is getting married to one of the players, and getting
collared by another. My brother, your coach, thought it would be
good for the team to do it here."

"And you don't agree?" Bower took his beer
from the bartender and frowned when the man gave him a swift once
over. Straight then. He held the bartender's eye until the sub
ducked his head and scuttled away. Then he swiveled in his chair to
face Dean. "You have a problem with polyamory?"

"Not at all." Dean frowned. "You?"

"No. I've shared. I see the appeal." Bower
paused and took a sip of his beer. "But I've never found a sub that
would make the complications worth the headache. Takes a bit more
work, in my opinion. One on one is hard enough."

"Very true." Dean tipped his beer bottle to
clink it to Bower's. He liked the man already. "So you leave
someone special in Gaspe or Hamilton?"

"Would that be a problem?"

"Only if it distracts you from the game."

Bower grinned. "Nothing distracts me." He
angled his bottle towards the club's packed entry. "Mon Dieu, I
might find someone to help pass the time, though."

At the front desk, probably filling out the
club's required waver, a petite blond with an ass-to-die-for
covered in snug pink booty shorts bent over.

Dean admired the view and thunked his fist on
the bar. "Well now. Perhaps the night isn't a complete loss after
all. I'll admit, Bower, this whole wedding things doesn't do it for
me. But if it brings in some fresh meat like that—"

"I wouldn't want to alienate myself by
competing with my GM for a woman." Bower cocked his head. "Not that
either of us have a shot. Looks like she's taken."

Two slender men came up to fill in the forms
beside the woman. The one in snug black jeans and a black silk
shirt put a possessive hand on her waist, then laughed out loud and
pushed her away. Then he moved in behind the man in leather chaps
and a chastity belt, carrying a large white gift box topped with a
huge white bow, and whispered something in his ear.

"Look at little closer, Bower." Dean's lips
curved into a sardonic smile. "She's not taken. She's here with her
gay friends. Probably a safety thing. Which makes her hot
and
smart."

Bower didn't say a word. Face impassive, he
seemed to study the men like they were opponents in possession of
the puck.

With her back still to them, the woman
adjusted the collar of the apparent dominant's shirt and then
rubbed her face against his arm like a kitten demanding attention.
The dominant raked his fingers into her hair and pulled her in for
a rough kiss.

"I'd say the dynamic of their relationship is
a tad off balance, but she's with them." Bower shrugged. "You've
got unattached subs here, right?"

Dean kept his gaze locked on the woman and
found he couldn't look away. His gaze trailed her as she made her
way through the crowd filtering into the main room and settling on
the long wood benches that had temporarily replaced all the crossed
and stocks and spanking benches. Something about her had every
protective instinct within clawing past reason and demanding he see
more. He considered himself an observant man. First impressions
spoke volumes. Even from across the room, he could sense the
connection between the men. The woman seemed like an afterthought,
despite the passionate kiss.

You're reaching, Richter.
Letting out
a grunt, he nodded. "I've got plenty. I'll introduce you to a
couple after the ceremony."

"I'm good with one," Bower said.

One brow arched, Dean regarded Bower, his
tone dead serious. "You wanna make good with your GM? Do me a favor
and take at least two off my hands. My most popular Dom and two of
his trainees just took themselves off the market. There will be a
number of needy subs and I won't have them leaving here all
depressed because they didn't get the coveted ring-collar-picket
fence combo."

"Well since you put it that way." Bower
grinned. "I suppose I can take one—or two—for the team."

"For the team."
Time to get down to
business
. "I spoke to Noah—thank you for providing the
reference, by the way, your agent was smart to include a man I know
personally on that very long list to vouch for you, it makes
getting you settled in much easier. Anyway, he told me you're
pretty good with eletroplay. I've gone to few workshops, but
haven't gotten comfortable enough to start fooling around with the
TENS or the wand. Think you could teach me?"

"Be glad to." Bower reached down, then lifted
a metal case onto the bar. "I've got all the stuff for some demos,
and I know a man who can supply you with more whenever you're
ready."

"Perfect."

"Under one condition."

Dean's brow furrowed. "What?"

Bower took a deep breath. "Teach me how to
use a whip. I . . . well fuck, I tried to convince myself I wasn't
into giving pain. But I'm done pretending. I came out here because
you guys offered the chance to accept who I am. I'm tired of
playing with the light stuff."

"Electroplay isn't considered light."

"Yeah, well I've always had a thing for the
charge—I've been messing around with it since I was a kid. I
learned a bit about the ropes and discipline, but I want more."
Bower frowned at his bottle. "I want to be able to offer a sub
whatever she needs. I've had a few who like playing hard and fast,
and I hate sending them to someone else because I lack the skills.
Sharing is one thing, but when you're doing it because you're not
good enough—"

"I got it." Hell, why not? He liked training
and this would work out well for them both. He'd learn a new skill
and he'd teach one of the most important men on his team not only
how to wield a whip, but to accept the darker parts of himself.
"Actually, unless I'm mistaken, the ceremony will end with one of
my pupils using the whip on the new bride. Should be quite a
show."

Bower's expression shifted, turning eager and
almost feral. "I can't wait."

"You're gonna fit right in, Bower." Dean
lifted his beer. "To the game, on and off the ice."

"To the game."

The faint music playing in the background
changed. Romantic instrumentals to tell one and all things were
about to get started.

And for the first time that day, Dean was
looking forward to what laid ahead.

But as he made his way to the benches, the
neglected sub in pink plagued his thoughts. Maybe he didn't
understand her relationship with the men she'd come with. Maybe he
was wasting his time.

Still, before the night was over, he'd meet
her. Find out if he could give her what she needed.

Because the Dom in him knew, without a doubt,
she wasn't getting it.

Yet.

"Oh my God, Oriana! You look amazing!" Silver
burst into the small office turned changing room, the words leaving
her mouth before she even saw her sister. Oriana had always been
self-conscious about her appearance, and had no sense of style, so
Silver wasn't expecting much. Off the rack at best, hopefully
form-fitting?

She'd have something beautiful if she'd have
let me help her.

Oriana hadn't wanted any help. She'd said
Silver had enough to do with the move and the business. She'd
insisted her and the men could handle it. As if men had any clue
about wedding dresses!

They did a pretty damn good job setting up
the club without your input. Fine, most of the people look like
they're going to a kinky funeral . . .
Almost everyone had
either gone with black leather, suits, or outfits much like
Cedric's. More than one sub, male and female, wore some kind of
chastity belt and little else. She'd have stood out less if she'd
stripped at the door. But the set up itself was pretty classy.
Some men have good tastes. Look at Asher.

Still, she would have liked to be involved.
She'd hinted at Oriana needing a bridesmaid—all her sister's
friends were in Montreal, and none had been able to take time off
school to attend—but Oriana insisted she didn't need one. Fine, so
Silver wouldn't 'officially' have a place in the wedding, but she'd
looked up some local caterers and florists anyway, emailing the
information to Oriana just in case she needed them. She even gotten
a bunch of wedding magazines and swung by Max's place to drop them
off—with Dominik, after he told her Oriana was a little under the
weather.

Oriana had called to thank her that evening.
The phone call had been short and tense, but she'd pretended not to
notice. Oriana was probably stressed because the press had latched
onto the unconventional event, drawing the kind of attention her
sister had always been uncomfortable with. Which she wouldn't want
to talk to Silver about since she thrived on the spotlight.

Well, the press isn't here and Oriana
deserves to be in the spotlight. Maybe she'll let me do her makeup
. . .
She fixed a cheerful smile on her lips and looked around.
Oriana stood by the window, holding the thick black curtains
together, head bowed. Then she squared her shoulders and
turned.

The vision of her sister took her breath
away.

In a long white, one-shoulder gown, cutaway
to reveal the bottom halves of her breasts, Oriana looked like a
bride more prepared for the wedding night than a walk down the
aisle. A short zipper was the only thing holding the dress together
from the cutout to the where the skirt was slit a one hip. Her
natural olive toned skin, which she'd inherited from their father,
made her look exotic, like the woman in Silver's favorite painting,
the Gitana by Fabien Perez, which one of her friends in LA bragged
that she'd gotten from the artist himself. While some might envy
Silver's fair, flawless complexion, she'd always longed for that
honey-gold glow.

Her lips moved, but no sound came at first.
Whoever thought Silver was the better-looking Delgado sister had
never seen Oriana like this. She shook her head and whispered,
"Wow."

"Thank you." Oriana gave her a tight smile
and touched her partial updo, lightly fingering the wreath of
baby's breath. "I take it you approve?"

"Oh, Oriana . . . ." Silver held her hands
out, palms up as she approached her sister. "I always knew you'd
make a beautiful bride. Max is a lucky man."

Oriana hesitated, then took her hands and
squeezed. "What about Dominik? And Sloan?"

"Them too," Silver said, quickly. She didn't
like Sloan, but now wasn't the time to let her personal bias show.
And really, he'd chosen the better sister. "Is that what you've
been so worried about? Did you think I'd judge you for being with
the three of them?"

Shrugging, Oriana pulled away. "We were going
to have a normal ceremony at first—for me and Max. Just so our
father could . . . but he refused to come."

Silver bit her bottom lip. "Daddy's just
old-fashioned. I tried to talk to him—"

"I
don't
need you talking to him for
me." Oriana's eyes, only a shade lighter than their father's,
turned hard and distant. "Stay out of it."

Silver swallowed and nodded. "All right." She
fiddled with her clutch. "I was going to offer to do your makeup,
but it's perfect."

"Yep." Oriana folded her arms over her chest.
"I'm pretty much done here."

"That's . . . good. Do you want me to stay
until things get started?"

"No. The ceremony will start in a couple of
minutes." Letting out a sigh, Oriana moved towards the large desk
and picked up her flowers. "Unless there was something you wanted
to talk about? Have you settled in okay?"

"Yes." Silver moved away from the door and
rested her hip on the edge of the desk. "Not that there was much
setting up to do. The new condo Daddy bought was fully furnished.
Once my stuff was shipped in from Hollywood it felt just like home.
I even managed to fix up the office in the forum. I haven't gotten
a chance to go over all the paperwork, but with Anne's help it
won't take me long to—"

"I'm sorry, I just realized I need a few
moments alone." Oriana's clipped tone froze Silver's words like
jagged lumps of ice in her throat. "If you could go take a seat
with the rest of the guests?"

Silver blinked, nodded, and backed out of the
room. Her shoulder hit the door jamb and her lips formed another
'I'm sorry', but Oriana had returned to the window.

Damn me and my big mouth.

She knew Oriana wasn't okay with her taking
over ownership of the team for their father.

You just don't think.

Then again, that wouldn't surprise Oriana.
Everyone knew Silver was spoiled and selfish. And she knew Oriana
would forgive her, just like she always did. She stared at her
sister's stiff back for a while, then retreated.

Making her way to the main room, Silver
spotted Asher and Cedric seated near the end of the aisle. The
Dartmouth Cobra players took up most of the front seats. By right,
the sister of the bride should be up there.

But Oriana didn't need her family anymore.
She had a new one.

Loving and loyal. Exactly what she
deserved.