The Ghost's Rule
by @velvetgingerElara Vance scrubs the Easton Elite Ice Arena’s penalty box at 1:15 AM, a ghost in her fraying custodial uniform, invisible to the hockey gods she’s forbidden to look at. When a sickening crack shatters the frozen silence, she breaks the only rule that keeps her scholarship safe—and catches the attention of a beautiful, violent predator who treats her like dirt. Now the ghost is seen, and the ice isn’t the only thing about to burn.
MEET THE CHARACTERS
EXPLORE CHAPTERS
The Crack
Elara's mop slips from her numb fingers as the first crack echoes off the ice. She freezes, every muscle locked, her breath fogging in the dead air. A second crack follows, denser, closer—not a puck, not a board. She turns her head slowly, scanning the moonlit rink and the black hollows of the stands. Nothing moves. The refrigeration unit hums. She waits, hand hovering above the fallen mop, not daring to pick it up.
The Public Claim
Elara sits alone at a back table, her tray untouched, when the cafeteria doors swing open. Hunter crosses the room without looking away from her, his teammates trailing like a wake, and stops at her table—one hand flat on the surface, leaning in until his breath warms her cheek. 'You're mine,' he says, loud enough for the tables around them to hear. 'Anyone looks at you, they deal with me.' Under the table, her thighs press together as a damp heat spreads between them, her nipples tightening against the worn fabric of her sweater—a response she hates and can't stop.
Sleep's Grip
Pale dawn light slips through the gap in the curtains, painting the room in grey tones. I’m awake before him, my back pressed against his chest, and I feel the slow, unconscious curl of his fingers around my breast—his thumb grazing my nipple in a lazy rhythm that matches his breathing. His hips shift, grinding against me in his sleep, and I press my lips together to keep from making a sound, my body responding before my mind catches up.