April opened her mouth to say something. Protest, maybe. Point out that this was ridiculous.
Jax cut her off, “It’s only fair, April. We’ve all had to prove ourselves today.”
April looked at Arthur. Arthur didn’t speak. He watched; patient as geology, like he could outwait glaciers if necessary.
Mateo grinned, all teeth. “Dance for her.”
“What?”
“You heard him.” Caleb said. “Dance. Make it count.”
Aprilshouldhave argued. This was hazing. Ridiculous. Possibly illegal in several jurisdictions. But part of her, possibly the same part that’d forgotten what shame waswanted to knowwhat Jiro would do.
Jiro handed April his jacket, then he walked onto the dance floor.
Jiro didn’t do anything halfway. April was learning that in real time, and possibly regretting it, because her brain was tryingto file a formal complaint with her hormones about operational limits, but her body had stopped taking meetings.
The music shifted, becoming slower, heavier. A Bass line she felt in her hips before she heard it.
And Jiro moved.
Not the sharp, precise choreography from his videos. This was something rawer, his body responding to the music like it was a language only he spoke fluently. Jiro moved like he was answering a question with his hips. His hands traced down his body; chest, ribs, the sharp cut of his hips when his shirt rode up.
The club noticed. Of course it did. Half the dance floor stopped moving to watch.
But Jiro wasn’t dancing for them.
His eyes found April’s. Held.
And suddenly she understood how someone could undo you with a look. Except Jiro was doing it with his entire body, showing her exactly how he'd move, how he'd touch, how he'd take his time.
Hand sliding up the back of his neck, fingers threading through platinum hair, head falling back enough to expose his throat. He dropped low, thighs flexing, and came back up in one devastating wave that made April's pulse spike.
He turned, showing her the flex of muscle under his shirt, then looked over his shoulder with an expression that was pure heat. Facing her again, hands moving like he was touching someone who wasn't there.
The space between themhummed.
His eyes never left hers.
The song lasted three seconds and three years and also possibly forever, and when it finally ended April had to remember how time worked.
Jiro walked back to the booth. Flushed. Slightly breathless. But steady.
The men were silent. Then Caleb nodded. “Okay. Yeah. You’re in.”
Liam smirked. “Welcome to the pack.”
Mateo handed Jiro an expensive-looking drink. “You’ve earned this.”
Jax held out a name tag.
Pre-engraved.Jiro.
Jiro took it, cheeks going pink. His smile was small and bashful; which felt like a violation of natural law because he’d danced like that and now he was shy about a name tag?
He pinned it to his shirt. April leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Jiro froze for a half-second. Then his smile went a little lopsided.
And just like that, there were seven.
