"I'd prefer to stay in my seat. We're mid-game."
"Verena. Come. Sit. Here."
His dominance pushes out, pressure through the room.
It slides over my skin and finds no purchase.
But I move anyway, because the neighbors don't deserve to watch him escalate.
The chair scrapes as I stand. "Excuse me," I murmur to Alex and Finn. Finn touches my hand as I pass. Alex's gaze brushes my profile like a shield.
I walk around the table, breathing evenly. Marie glowers. Eli looks sick. Drake's scent is a mess of conflict and longing.
Ragon looks almost relieved as I approach. Like he believes once I'm in his lap the old pattern will click back into place.
He takes my waist and draws me down.
My body lands lightly on his thigh, muscles braced so I don't fully settle. His arm comes around my middle, heavy and familiar; his chest meets my back; his scent wraps around me.
Nothing in me yields.
Not my neck. Not my shoulders. Not the small omega place under my heart.
If anything, I go quieter inside.
The alphas feel it.
Finn's eyes go wide. Alex's hand clenches. Malcolm looks like he wants to walk out.
Eli stares at where Ragon's hand rests on my hip, knuckles white.
Drake won't look at me at all.
Marie watches like someone set a fire in her lap.
Ragon nuzzles at my temple. "There. Better."
I sit perfectly still.
"Please," I say quietly, so only he can hear. "Let me go."
His hand tightens reflexively. "You're mine. You belong here."
My throat closes around a bitter sound.
"I don't feel like I do."
He inhales sharply.
The game stalls around us: half-played cards, full glasses, held breaths.
Eli shifts like he might intervene. Jasper's gaze darts to him, a warning shake of his head.
"Vee," Drake starts, helpless.
"I'm not going to make a scene. I just want to sit in my own chair."
"You are sitting," Ragon insists, harder now. "You're sitting where you're supposed to be."
