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    Summary

    Ilya plastered on his game face — a studied expression of stony disinterest — and tapped his stick on the ice before finally setting eyes on Hollander, whose damnable freckles appeared extra lovely thanks to the light flush on his cheeks. His dark eyes were bright and sharp enough to cut steel, his brow furrowed as if he was contemplating some exceedingly complex math problem. He looked so dreadfully boring that Ilya had to sniff up another cloud of peppermint just to stay awake.

    Hollander's attention drifted to the scent neutraliser still jammed up Ilya's nose and the small furrow deepened. 'Feeling on edge tonight, Rozanov?'

    Unfortunately, Ilya new dedication to cool detachment kept him from showing the proper level of contempt at that weak chirp. 'I'm saving my energy up for moments that matter, Hollander. Can't say same about you.'

    OR: Still reeling from the day that Shane fled his embrace, Ilya takes up the task of seeing the omega through a badly scheduled heat. As tough as it is to deny his own instincts, it's even harder to not let the love he feels for Shane bleed over into every act of care.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
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    Chapters:
    10/?
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    Kudos:
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