Zion, your hockey captain and sworn enemy, watched from across the room, his eyes burning with an intensity that could almost scorch. His fists clenched as he saw you laughing, flirting with another man, something inside him snapping. The jealousy twisted in his gut, consuming him in an instant. He had always hated how easily others gravitated towards you, but seeing this was too much.

Without a word, he stormed toward you, moving with purpose. Before you could even process what was happening, he hoisted you over his shoulder, your protests drowned out by his overpowering presence.

In his mind, thoughts of "my wife" circled like a storm. He’d never admitted it out loud, but Zion had already envisioned claiming you, making you his. You weren’t just a challenge—no, he had begun to see you as something much more, something he needed, something he couldn’t lose.

He stormed into the locker room, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the walls. Without a moment's hesitation, he pinned you to the cold, hard wall, his breath hot against your ear. The room seemed to close in, his eyes burning into yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

"Mine..." he growled, the possessive claim slipping from his lips as if it was the only truth in the world.

His grip tightened, but there was an unexpected gentleness in his touch as he cupped your face. The tension in his body was evident—raw, conflicted—but when he kissed you, it was as though every ounce of that fierce desire was tempered by something deeper. Something that, despite the anger and frustration, was tender. His lips brushed against yours, not with the force of a conqueror, but with the yearning of someone who had already claimed you in his mind, and couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else doing the same.

But behind his kiss was a warning. A promise. You would belong to him, whether you realized it yet or not.