Page 37 of The Flavor of Us

I nearly choke on my food as Ryder levels Ashton with a sharp glare. Carleen snorts from across the counter, shaking her head as she starts wiping down a cutting board. The four of us settle into an easy rhythm—eating, laughing, Ashton making sly remarks while Ryder rolls his eyes and Carleen keeps a steady, watchful eye on us all.

But the scene becomes absolutely perfect when Ryder nudges Carleen and shoves a plate into her hands before mouthing ‘Eat’. She opens her mouth to protest, Ryder just raising a brow before she sighs and places it on the counter to take a bite. I wasn’t sure how the dynamic between us four would work but seeing Ryder so easily support Carleen has my heart in a chokehold.

The lights are low, the music thrums through the air like a living thing, and the stage ismine. The crowd is loud but distant, a buzzing backdrop as I make my way to center stage. I’ve changed into my real number—a fitted black bodysuit with sheer panels and thigh-high boots that cling to my legs like second skin.

But none of them matter.

Not the drunk groups waving dollar bills, not the occasional catcalls, not the glances from strangers.

Becausethey’re here.

Carleen. Ryder. Ashton.

Front row.

And holyhell, they lookgood.

Carleen sits in the middle, one arm slung casually over the back of the booth. She’s sipping whiskey, her sharp brown eyes glued to me like I’m the only thing worth watching in the entire building. Her expression is unreadable, but her aura screamsAlpha. Possessive. Protective. Proud.

Ryder’s next to her, relaxed but still commanding. He’s got a whiskey glass too, the amber liquid swirling lazily as he leans back in his seat, his icy blue gaze watching me with unnerving focus. Like he’s cataloging every flick of my wrist, every arch of my back, every step of my heels.

And then there’s Ashton.

The man’s got a bright pink drink in front of him, complete with a little umbrella and a cherry on top. He hasn’t touched it. Instead, his chin is resting in one hand, his brown eyes fixed on me with a look that couldmelt steel. His grin is sharp, teasing, and when I catch his gaze, he winks.

I nearly miss my step.

Focus, Tati. Focus.

The music kicks in—a sultry beat with heavy bass—and I move.

Dancing isn’t just movement for me; it’s storytelling. It’s expression. It’s freedom.

My body sways, bends, arches. Every step, every flick of my hair, every spin feels deliberate. My gaze flickers between them—Carleen’s smirk, Ryder’s sharp focus, Ashton’s slow perusal—and it sets meonfire.

I feel seen. Not as a Beta. Not as some performer. But asme.

My hips roll in time with the music, my movements sharp but fluid. Every time I look back at them, I find the three of them devouring me with their gazes. I finish my set with one last spin, my chest heaving as the music fades. Applause erupts, dollar bills scatter at my feet, but my gaze stays locked on them until it’s time to leave the stage.

Back in the dressing room, I peel off the bodysuit and replace it with something much more comfortable—black shorts and a cropped tee that will still get me tips for the rest of the evening. My makeup’s still on point, my hair’s tousled but perfect, and my heart? Yeah, it’s still racing.

I step back into the club, weaving through the crowd until I spot them.

Carleen’s the first to notice me. She stands as I approach, and before I can say a word, her hands are on me—gripping my waist and pulling me flush against her chest and then she kisses me. She’s claiming me once again in front of everyone, letting them all know who I belong to. Her lips move against mine with purpose, her fingers digging slightly into my sides as her scent wraps around me, drowning me in it.

When she pulls back, I’m breathless, my knees weak. She smirks, brushing her thumb across my bottom lip as her brown eyes glimmer with satisfaction. “You were incredible, sunshine,” she murmurs.

Carleen turns me slightly, her hands still on my waist, and suddenly I’m facing Ryder and Ashton.

Ryder’s watching me with that steady, piercing gaze of his, his broad shoulders relaxed but imposing. Ashton, on the other hand, has that slow grin back on his face, his eyes practically dripping with heat. Ryder leans back slightly in his chair, spreading his arms across the backrest like he’s making space just for me. “Come here, sweetheart,” he says, his voice smooth and low.

My feet move before my brain catches up and suddenly I’m standing right in front of him. Ryder reaches out, his large hands settling gently on my hips as he guides me down until I’m straddling his lap. His eyes search mine, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against my hips. “You like being seen, don’t you, sweetheart?”

I bite my bottom lip, nodding slightly. “Yeah, I do.”

Ashton snorts softly, leaning in close enough that I can feel his breath against the side of my face. “You like being seen byus, don’t you, little doe?”

My face burns and I nod again as Carleen sits across from us in the booth, a smirk on her lips as she sips her whiskey. His head tilts slightly, his sharp blue eyes flicking down to my mouth and then back up again. And just like that, I lean in. My heart pounds so loudly I swear he can hear it. His lips meet mine with a soft brush, a testing slide, before Ryder cups the back of my neck and takes.

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