Good.
“This doesn’t end well for you,” she warns softly.
I move another foot closer to her until I’m in front of Kieran and Silas’s grip tightens on my shoulder, just shy of bruising as he steps with me.
“No,” I agree. “It doesn’t. But it won’t end well for you either.”
“Leave.” Jace’s voice is final, booming behind us. “Shut the fucking door.”
She stares at him, searching… needing to know he isn’t talking to her. And finding none of her wishes are coming true.
Silas loosens his grip and pulls me back inside, pushing me toward Jace like this is a game ofKeep Eris on the Leash.
Kieran slams the door in her face and taps the screen beside us twice. The locks engage with a soft, satisfied click.
“Well,” I say lightly, turning so I can face all three of them. “She’s going to be a problem.”
Silas smiles, and it feels like a dangerous thing to witness, lined with secrets I want to know. Secrets I recognize, but don’t dare breathe aloud yet.
“Yes,” he admits. “But not your problem.”
I don’t argue with him... Though I can already guess the outcome of this. The line that existed yesterday is gone.
And to her, I’m not prey... I’m competition.
Jace drags a hand down his face. “You okay?”
I nod. “Are you?”
“I am now.” He meets my gaze, a touch of humor shining through his hazel eyes. “She gives me an instant headache.”
That feral thing in my chest roars in discontent.
They. Are. Mine.
But I don’t want to bejusttheirs.
I want to be the reason they never look at another woman again.
Ever.
There is only me.
Even if it means getting blood on my hands to keep it that way.
She’s still wearing my shirt.
And I’m fucked.
Not just because of the way it hangs off one shoulder, or how she tucked the front into a pair of boxer briefs that aren’t mine with lazy confidence, like she doesn’t realize how obscene it looks to have her draped in our clothes, skin on display while we try desperately not to touch her.
I’m fucked because shedoesrealize.
And she’s enjoying it.
Eris is on the couch with one leg curled under her and the other stretched out, bare foot hooked over the edge of the arm. Jace’s laptop is open, her fingers moving leisurely over the keyboard, her phone close enough to reach without looking away. A glass of water sits untouched on the end table.
She looks like she’s doing nothing.
