“Could be,” I reply, watching as Owen whispers something in Zara’s ear that makes her laugh and touch his chest. My jaw clenches so hard I feel a muscle jump along my temple.
I kept my distance at dinner deliberately. Bryce’s questioning looks and remarks hadn’t escaped my notice—my best friend knows me too well, recognizes when I’m acting out of character. The way his eyes moved between Owen and me, suspicionforming in his gaze, had triggered a caution I rarely employ. I’d played it cool, deflecting his attention, focusing on anyone but Owen.
I’d assumed Owen would understand the need for discretion, especially after Maia’s interruption earlier. But watching him now, I wonder if my silence has provoked something defensive in him—this performance that grows more exaggerated with each passing minute.
“Slade, I think we should try that path.” Naya points toward a winding trail that disappears into denser foliage. “I’m getting a strong intuitive pull in that direction.”
I nod, grateful for the opportunity to move. “Lead the way.”
As we walk, I throw one last glance over my shoulder. Owen watches me now, his gaze meeting mine. The challenge in his eyes is unmistakable. When he sees me looking, he leans closer to Zara, his lips almost brushing her ear as he says something.
A primitive emotion roars to life inside me. The surgeon’s detachment I pride myself on fractures, giving way to a baser instinct I rarely acknowledge. I want to drag him away from her, remind him whose taste was on his tongue hours ago.
“Did you know that Mercury retrograde is an optical illusion?” Naya chatters as we follow the path. “The planet isn’t actually moving backward—it just appears that way from our perspective on Earth. But the energetic effects are very real. Communication breaks down, technology fails, plans go awry.”
“Fascinating,” I respond, my attention split between our surroundings and the mental image of Owen’s face when I finally get him alone.
The path curves, taking us out of sight from the main clearing. I pause, pretending to examine a nearby tree.
“What is it?” Naya asks, stepping closer.
“Nothing. I thought I saw something that might be related to the clue.” I straighten, glancing back toward where we came from. “I’m going to check something. Wait here?”
She nods, already distracted by a cluster of wildflowers growing alongside the path. “Take your time.”
I go back to the main area, eyes scanning for Owen. The groups have dispersed further now, teams following different paths based on their interpretations of the clues. I spot Bryce and Ava near the small pond at the property’s edge. Maia and Jace are examining a large boulder.
Then I see him—Owen, alone by a stand of pines, consulting what appears to be a map of the property. Zara is nowhere in sight. Perfect.
I move with purpose, keeping to the shadows of the trees. When I reach him, I don’t announce my presence. I grip his upper arm and pull him backward, deeper into the cover of the pines. His startled intake of breath sends a surge of satisfaction through me.
“What the—” he begins, but I cut him off by pushing him against the rough bark of a tall pine, my body pressing against his, pinning him in place.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I growl, my face inches from his. Up close, I can see the pulse jumping in his throat.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t play dumb.” My hand slides up to grip his jaw, forcing him to maintain eye contact. “That performance with Zara. The touching, the whispering, the fucking giggling.”
A flash of defiance crosses his face. “I’m playing the game. She’s my partner for the hunt.”
“That’s not what this is about and you know it.” I press closer, my thigh sliding between his legs. Even through our clothes, I can feel his body’s response, the hard length of him pressing against me. “You’re trying to make me jealous.”
“Why would I do that?” he challenges, but his breath hitches as I shift my weight, creating friction against his growing arousal. “You’re the one who ignored me after what happened. Wouldn’t even look at me at dinner.”
So that’s it. The hurt in his voice is barely concealed, and something in my chest tightens in response.
“Bryce was watching us. He knows me too well. I was trying to avoid his questions until we figured this out.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed by anger.
“You could have told me that,” he says, his hands coming up to push against my chest. I don’t budge. “Instead, you just shut me out. Made me feel like I did something wrong, like you regretted what happened.”
“Do I look like I regret it?” I shift my hips again, letting him feel the hard evidence of my desire. His breath catches. “I don’t regret a single fucking second of what we did. What I regret is watching you touch her, smile at her, when your body still hasmymarks on it.”
His cheeks flush at this, the pink spreading down his neck. “I didn’t think you cared.”
“Bullshit.” My hand slides from his jaw to the back of his neck. “You knew what you were doing. You wanted me to react.”
