He had no idea I’d fantasized right back.
I was watching him from across the room when I saw it – two guys from his art class laughing with him. Nothing special. Nothing suggestive. Just friends hanging off each other like drunk college boys do. Like, our entire house was filled with drunk college kids, at this point.
Then one of them put his arm around Jamie’s shoulders.
Then another ruffled his hair.
Jamie laughed – bright, unguarded, beautiful.
And something in me snapped.
I didn’t want to rip their hands off him – I wanted to rip their wholearmsoff.
Break their wrists.
Shatter their fingers so they’d never dare touch him again.
Make them learn, with bone-deep certainty, thatmy little emberwas hands-off.
Untouchable.
Mine.
My jaw tightened.
My fists curled.
I felt that cold, familiar darkness slide down my spine like a second skin.
Enough.
They need to understand who he belonged to.
I crossed the room. Each step sharpened the air, cutting through the laughter like a blade. By the time I reached them, the entire group had gone quiet – conversations dying nid-sentence, heads turning toward me with that instinctive awareness of a predator entering the space.
Jamie looked up, eyes widening for half a second.
“Hey, Lex,” one of the boys said, voice suddenly tight.
I ignored him.
My attention was on Jamie – and Jamie alone.
I let my presence fill the space, let my aura shift into something colder, heavier. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t bare my teeth. I didn’t have to. Dominance rolled off me in waves, thick enough to choke on.
“What’s going on here?” I asked, tone deceptively mild.
Jamie blinked, the faintest pink rising to his cheeks.
“Uh, we were just talking. They were telling me about –”
“I didn’t ask them,” I cut gently, eyes locked on his.
“I asked you.”
One of the guys tensed beside him.
“Dude, we were just –”
