Page 40 of The Flavor of Us

I raise a brow, smirking slightly as I take a sip of my whiskey. “You two ready to impress me or are we still playing nice?”

Ashton grins, his teeth flashing white in the dim light. “We don’t play nice, Carleen. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

Ryder huffs out a quiet laugh beside him, shaking his head. “What Ashton means is—we’ve got some ideas. You sign the contract and we’ll make sure this event goes down as one of the best in Culinova history.”

The confidence in his voice makes something settle in my chest. Ryder isn’t the type to overpromise, and I respect the hell out of that. I set my glass down, letting my gaze sweep between the two of them. “Fine. I’ll sign it. But only because I think we can make something incredible together. And—” I smirk, leaning back in my seat, “—I want to see what you two can do under pressure.”

Ashton’s grin widens, and he waggles his eyebrows at me. “Oh, darling, we perform best under pressure.”

Ryder rolls his eyes but doesn’t contradict him. The three of us settle into easy conversation after that—discussing menu ideas, ingredient sourcing, and logistics for the trial week. Ashton flirts shamelessly through most of it, and Ryder watches me with those sharp, observant eyes of his. It’s almost too easy, the way we fall into rhythm. But even as we talk, my eyes keep drifting back to Tati.

Everything they’re giving her—the attention, the adoration, the focus, I selfishly also want for myself. I didn’t think I would. I thought I would be satisfied just focusing on Tati but watching how attentive they’ve been with her even over just a few hours makes me ache. Even the simple touches that Ryder offers Ashton that are just so easy, so natural.

It’s gentle, almost tender—the way Ryder’s large hand cups the side of Ashton’s face, his thumb tracing the shell of his ear in slow, deliberate motions. Ashton’s eyes flutter closed for a moment, his body visibly relaxing, shoulders dropping, his breath slowing. I’ve seen it before—this moment of quiet between them—but it still feels so intimate. Like watching something sacred unfold.

And it makes meache.

I wonder how often Ryder does this for Ashton—how often Ashton needs someone to quiet the storm inside him. It’s clear that this simple touch grounds him, centers him in a way that words never could. When Ashton opens his eyes again, they’re clearer, softer. He sits up in the booth, folding his arms across his chest as his grin returns, but it’s less sharp this time.

“I know we talked about putting Tati as the focus, as the priority. Ryder talked to me too,” Ashton says casually, tilting his head slightly toward Ryder. “We agreed we wouldn’t push. Not with you, not with Tati. We’re here for the long haul if you’ll have us.” A few hours ago, we were talking about making this a trial and now it feels like they’re softly asking for, forever.

“Thank you. Both of you.”

Ryder’s lips twitch slightly, his blue eyes glinting with something soft, somethingkind. “You don’t have to thank us, Carleen,” he says. “This isn’t just about one of us—it’s aboutallof us. And that means moving at a pace that feels good for everyone.”

Ashton hums in agreement, flashing me another grin as he shifts in his seat. “Besides, darling, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s patience.”

I snort, the tension cracking slightly as I shake my head. “Somehow, Ashton, I don’t believe that.” I’m about to add onto that retort when the sour tang of melon hits me like a slap to the face—sharp, burnt, and so wrong it makes my stomach turn. Tati’s scent, usually so sweet and ripe, is twisted with fear and something else I can’t quite place.

I’m out of the booth before my brain even catches up to my body. Ryder and Ashton are already moving behind me, both of them tense and alert. My head snaps across the dimly lit venue, searching, scanning—where is she?

Tati’s cornered near the edge of the bar, her body half-turned away from a man who’s got a vice grip on her wrist. He’s swaying slightly, drunk and leering, his free hand gesturing wildly as he talks—or yells; I can’t tell. Tati’s face is tight, her jaw clenched as she tries to pull back, but she’s not strong enough to break his hold.

The sound that leaves my throat is primal.A guttural growl rips from my chest and everything around me blurs. I don’t remember crossing the floor, don’t remember the gasps of the few lingering patrons, don’t remember Ryder and Ashton’s sharp voices calling after me.

I just know—nobody touchesmyBeta like that.

I reach them in seconds and before the man even has a chance to turn his head, my fist connects with his jaw. The crack of bone-on-bone reverberates through my arm and the man stumbles backward, releasing Tati instantly. She stumbles into me, gasping as she clutches at my shirt, her body trembling so hard I can feel it through the fabric. I curl my arms around her protectively, my chest heaving as I watch the man stagger, holding his face with a look of dumb shock.

“Are you okay, sunshine?” I murmur into Tati’s hair, my voice soft despite the rage simmering just below the surface.

She doesn’t answer—just sobs into my chest, her fingers fisted into the collar of my shirt. The man—this pathetic excuse for a human—straightens, his bloodshot eyes locking onto me with rage. He lunges forward, but Ryder and Ashton are right there. Ashton grips the man’s arm, twisting it behind his back so fast the guy yelps in pain. Ryder steps forward, his gaze sharp and menacing as he places a hand on the man’s chest and shoves him backward.

“Stay down,” Ryder growls, his voice low and deadly.

The man freezes, his chest heaving, eyes wide with fear.

“Enough!”

Eugene pushes through the small crowd that’s gathered, his face tight with irritation and worry. His gaze flickers over me, over Tati trembling in my arms, then over to Ryder and Ashton, still holding the drunk guy in place. “What the hell is going on here?” Eugene snaps.

I turn my head slowly, leveling him with a glare so sharp I swear I see him flinch. “You want to know what’s going on, Eugene?” I hiss, my voice dripping with venom. “One of yourcustomersdecided it was perfectly acceptable to put his hands onmyBeta. To drag her around like she’s some toy while she was just trying to do her damn job.”

Eugene’s face pales as his eyes flicker back to the man on the floor. “I—Carleen, I—”

“No,” I snap, cutting him off. “I don’t want excuses. I don’t want apologies. I want to know that this willnever happen again.I want to know that every single person who walks into this club knows that Tati isoff-limits.” I don’t even know where this possession is coming from but my Alpha is furious that anyone tried to hurt Tati. Some part of me is just chanting ‘Mine’ over and over again.

Eugene stammers, his hands held up in surrender. “Of course! Absolutely, Carleen. I’ll handle it. I swear.”

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