I whip around, blinking, only to find Jasper in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes steady.
He raisesan eyebrow, voice cool as black ice: “You’re welcome.”
“Boyfriend, huh?”
Riot’s voice is low and dangerous, slicing through the noise like a knife. My heart skips a beat, the hairs on my neck prickling. He drawls it deliberately, testing how the word tastes.
I catch the way he’s looking at Jasper, like he’s weighing every ounce of threat and ownership in the word ’boyfriend’. Riot’s jaw ticks, that wild edge right beneath the surface.
Jasper doesn’t blink. He leans back in his chair, muscles loose but ready, one arm draped lazily over the back of my seat. His voice is a velvet blade: “You want a label too? I’ve got a collar with your name on it.”
I almost spat out my water.
Before Riot can snap something back, Macee’s voice rings out, cutting through the tension. “Wow. Did I walk into a dick-measuring contest, or is this just Tuesday around here?”
Ash grins, jumping in. “You walked into a circus, sweetheart. But I promise—we’re the main attraction.”
Jace leans forward, all sly smirk. “Ignore him. He thinks calling girls sweetheart makes him charming.”
“It does,” Ash fires back with a wink.
“It doesn’t,” Jace shoots, eyes sliding over Macee with way too much confidence. “But I can cook. And hold an actual conversation. Unless you’d rather be grunted at between bites of food.”
Macee gives them both a slow once-over, lips pursed, eyebrow arched. “So do I get to pick who gets my number, or let you fight to the death?”
“Oh, you can pick,” Ash promises, voice dripping velvet. “But I fight dirty.”
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “Macee, please. Don’t encourage them.”
She snorts, her laughter lighting up the table. “What? They’re so pretty when they squabble.”
Everyone laughs. The room pulses with a rare kind of ease—except for Riot.
He hasn’t touched his food. He hasn’t looked away from Jasper either. The air around him is tight, brittle, like he’s holding back a punch and a confession at the same time. That fire’s still there, burning dangerously bright.
My stomach twists, nerves and longing tangled up as I reach under the table, brushing my fingertips against his thigh.
He jolts at the contact, eyes snapping to mine, vast and wild for a split second—like he’s not sure if he should run or grab me and never let go.
But then his hand slides beneath the table, lacing his fingers through mine, and he squeezes as ifheneeds the anchor.
My throat goes tight as I whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, “You’re mine too. You know that, right?”
He doesn’t answer out loud, but he squeezes my hand again in answer.
And Jasper? He sees it, and he doesn’t say a word.
He lets his arm rest across the back of my chair, claiming space with every quiet inch—and I know exactly what I am to both of them.
Wanted. Chosen.
***
I tug Macee down the hall after dinner, away from all the testosterone still crackling around the dining table. My cheeks are on fire, and my pulse still hasn’t slowed from Riot’s hand under the table.
“Okay,” Macee says as I shove open the bedroom door, “are we gonna pretend that wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed or—?”
“Shut up,” I mutter, dragging her into the room and slamming the door behind us. My hands are shaking a little, all adrenaline and nerves.
