“I just…” Alaric sighs, the sound heavy. “I don’t want anyone thinking?—”
Kyle cuts him off gently. “No one’s thinking anything except that you’re the backbone of this team. And if they are, they can shove it. I’ll always back you.”
The way he says it—protective, almost tender—makes something snap hot in my chest.
I lean harder against the wall, straining to hear more.
“…when we get back home,” Kyle says after a moment, quieter now, “we should go out. Just the two of us. No noise. No pressure. Just… us.”
My blood roars in my ears.
Just us.
I imagine Alaric’s gray eyes going wide, imagine that uncertain flush across his cheeks. Imagine him nodding, shy, grateful. Maybe even relieved.
It makes me want to tear the wall down between us.
Instead, I drag in a breath through my teeth, steadying myself. I can’t barge in there. But the urge is almost physical—like my fists are itching to break through.
For a long moment, I don’t hear Alaric’s answer. Just silence, the shuffle of feet, the creak of benches. Finally, a muttered, “Yeah. Sure.”
Kyle chuckles. “It’s a date then.”
A date.
The word detonates inside me, sharp and merciless.
I shove away from the wall before I do something I’ll regret. My chest is tight, my throat raw, but one thing is clear: Thorn thinks he’s getting close. Thorn thinks he can protect Alaric from me, maybe even steal him out from under me.
But he doesn’t know what I know. He didn’t see the way Alaric came apart in that room. He didn’t hear the way he gaspedmyname. He didn’t taste him.
I did. And that means he’s mine.
By the time the Titan’s bus pulls up—tires crunching over ice, engines growling through the storm’s afterbirth—I’m strung so tight I could snap. We file out of the arena in two lines, Wolves and Titans separated like always. I keep my head down, breathsteaming in the frigid air as I head towards my car. Then I see a flash of silver hair.
He’s moving fast, shoulders hunched, like if he gets on the bus quick enough, last night never happened. And there—fuck—there’s Thorn again, right beside him, hand on his back, steering him up the steps like he owns the right.
The flare of jealousy is instant. Violent.
My fists clench at my sides. I want to wrap my hands around Thorn’s punk ass throat and shove his face in the snow while Alaric watches. It’s stupid, I know. Kyle hasn’t done anything more than put an arm around him, hasn’t done anything that teammates don’t do when one of them’s wrecked after a loss. But it’s enough. Enough to make the blood pound in my ears, enough to make me want to storm across the slush and rip Thorn’s arm away.
It should be my arm wrapped around those toned shoulders, my voice in Alaric’s ear telling him how good he is.
I bite down hard, teeth grinding. My eyes lock on Alaric’s back as he disappears into the bus, Kyle right behind him. Kyle catches my eye, a wolfish grin curling on his mouth before ducking his head after Alaric.
Oh, I see.
He thinks he’s won some game. But he doesn’t realize it’s only me and Alaric playing.
My pulse won’t slow. My hands shake, not from cold but from the need to stake my claim.
I tell myself to breathe, to calm down, to let it go for now. There’ll be more games, more nights, more chances to corner him. I’ve already cracked him once. I’ll do it again.
And next time, he won’t be walking away with Thorn’s arm around him.
Next time, he’ll be leaving with me.
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