Bound by Ice: Owned By My Stepbrother

POV: Aria

I was one bad jump away from losing everything for the second time.

My chest heaved. The freezing air burned the back of my throat but I refused to stop. The rink was completely empty, echoing only with the rhythmic scrape of my blades cutting through the ice.

Pushing off my left foot, I picked up speed.

My calf muscles screamed. I had been out here for three straight hours, driving my body into the ground to prove I belonged at this academy. And I was not going to let them break me. I wasn't just a charity case clinging to a broken dream.

I leaned into a tight curve with the edge of my steel blade a bit deep into the ice.

Speed: perfect.

Posture: locked.

But my right ankle was throbbing.

An hour ago, it was a dull ache. Now, it was a blinding pulse perfectly timed with my racing heartbeat.

I gritted my teeth, blurring the pain out. I just needed one perfect landing. Just one and I would go home.

Circling the center ice, I locked my eyes on the white surface ahead. The triple loop. The exact jump that shattered my ankle and ruined my life three years ago.

I took a sharp breath, dug my right toe pick into the ice and launched myself into the air.

The rotation snapped into place. I pulled my arms tight against my chest.

One revolution. Jump.

Two. Jump.

The cold air roared in my ears.

But mid-air, right as I pulled my arms even tighter to complete the third spin, my ankle gave out.

My jump fell apart instantly. I lost my axis and my body tilted to the side. It felt like the ground was rushing up to meet me.

In that second, I wasn't eighteen anymore. I was fifteen again. The bright ceiling lights blurred into streaks as a wave of panic hijacked my brain.

It felt exactly the same. The sudden loss of control. The sickening drop in my stomach. The terrifying realization that I was about to slam hard into the unforgiving ice.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I braced myself for the brutal impact and the end of my skating career. Again.

But the impact never came.

Instead of hitting the frozen ground, my downward fall stopped with a suddenl halt. The air rushed right out of my lungs.

Someone's arms were wrapped around my waist. The grip was firm and unyielding, holding me suspended above the ice.

I hung there for a full second. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard it hurt my chest.

I was trembling all over. The freezing air still circulated around us, but the arms holding me were very warm.

My breath hitched. I forced my eyes open, still half-expecting to be lying on the floor in agony.

Looking up, my eyes traveled past a bluish athletic jacket and a strong neck, locking straight onto the face of the person holding me.

It was Oliver.

He had that boyish hot face that made half the girls at the academy stare at him in the hallways. His dark hair was messy, falling just over his forehead. His lips curved in a smirk.

He was the Men's Captain. The golden boy of the skating team. And he was the specific person I despised more than anyone else in the world.

The sudden awareness of his hand still clamped around my waist made my skin burn. Reality set back in.

"Let go of me," I snapped, my voice harsh.

Oliver's brow furrowed.

He didn't expect my tone. Neither did I think he would actually do it. It was a reflex attempt to claw back some dignity while dangling above the ice. But Oliver never missed an opportunity to play a game.

He didn't hesitate. He dropped his hands instantly, cutting off my support before my feet were even properly set beneath me.

Without his grip, my weak right ankle buckled immediately.

The sudden shift in weight sent a sharp pain straight up my leg and my balance vanished. I started to go down, my left skate sliding uselessly out from under me.

Panic flared. My hand shot out on instinct. My fingers grabbed his blue jacket. I gripped it like a lifeline, desperate to avoid a second crash.

The momentum of my fall yanked me right back toward him. Oliver didn't stumble a single inch. He stood straight, as if he had anticipated the exact trajectory of my panic.

Instead of letting me fall, his arm snapped right back around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest.

A victorious grin spread across his face. He had known exactly what would happen when he dropped me. He had wanted me to grab him.

He leaned down slightly, his eyes glittering with lazy amusement.

"Careful, Aria," he drawled, his deep voice echoing in the empty arena. "People might think you're throwing yourself at me on purpose."

The warmth of his breath cut through the cold air between us.

"You did that on purpose," I hissed, my fingers still tightly wound in his jacket. My chest was heaving against his, and I hated how easily he was breathing.

"I did exactly what you asked," he replied smoothly, his grin widening. "You told me to let go. I'm just a gentleman who knows how to listen."

"You're an asshole."

"And you're still holding onto my jacket." He glanced down at my white-knuckled grip, his eyebrows raising slightly. "If you want a hug, Aria, all you have to do is ask nicely. You don't have to fake a fall just to get into my arms."

The sheer arrogance in his tone acted like a match to gasoline. The leftover shock from the jump instantly evaporated, replaced by hot rage.

I dropped my hand from his jacket, flattening my palms against his chest instead. I didn't hesitate. I shoved at his chest, sending him crashing backward onto the ice.

Asshole.