Page 8 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

“Jasper!” I hiss under my breath, my face flushing. He’s not wrong, but I don’t want to admit it. Vincent’s stare is suffocating, and the way he walks toward us, the way everyone splits for him like the Red Sea, like he owns the room and everyone inside of it, makes me feel small in the best and worst ways.

Vincent reaches us, and before I can say anything, he’s grabbing my arm and pulling me with him, not caring if Jasper is watching or not. “You’re coming with me,” he says, his voicelow, with a hint of command that makes me go still. The heat radiating off of him is impossible to ignore.

“Hey! What the hell, Vincent?” I protest, but he doesn’t even spare me a glance, dragging me through the cafeteria and toward the table where the other Chessmen are seated. Cast has that smirk on his face, the kind that makes me want to slap it off, but also kind of like the idea of kissing it off. Damien, on the other hand, is leaning back in his chair, lazily flipping through a book, clearly uninterested in the drama unfolding.

“Who’s that guy?” Vincent snarls, as we make our way across the room.

“Excuse me?” I cough out, my eyes trained on the floor, as the embarrassment of being dragged pushes a bright pink to my cheeks.

“You came in here and flirted with a guy in front of my face, Willow.”

I stumble as I walk and even though two seconds ago all I could feel was heat, my body runs cold at my name.Willow,instead oflittle devil.My voice is almost a whisper as I speak. “I wasn’t flirting.”

Vincent pulls me down onto the seat between him and Cast. A raspy voice curls around my ears. “Are you calling us liars?”

“No,” I rush out, so quickly that I feel like I expelled all the air from my lungs.

Cast chuckles, his chin resting on my shoulder. “So tell me, Pawn, what were you doing?”

I look forward, at the cold gaze of Vincent as his eyes trail over my body. “Talking.”

Vincent eyes narrow, and Cast clicks his tongue in my ear, his right hand the one that can’t be seen by anyone else in the cafeteria roams lightly up my outer thigh, making electricity prickle under his touch.

“You hear that Vin? She was just talking.” Cast teases, his breath cascading over my exposed shoulder.

“And laughing.” Damien boredly says from over Vincent’s shoulder.

“And laughing, and touching.” Cast echoes, but I keep my eyes on Vincent, and almost lurch forward when I see something like betrayal flash across his eyes.

“Vincent,” I whisper, and the dark ribbon in his eyes vibrates with anger, but I push through, reaching for his hand. “I wasn’t flirting, I promise. Jasper is just a friend.”

As Vincent pulls me onto his knee, I freeze for a second, my breath catching in my throat. His grip is firm, unyielding, and I can feel the heat of his body through his shirt. The proximity is overwhelming, and I try to ignore the way my skin tingles where it touches his. Cast leans back in his seat, watching us with an amused grin, while Damien continues to flip through his book, clearly uninterested in the drama but not without his own quiet judgment.

“Vincent, what the hell?” I protest, but my voice comes out quieter than I intended, a mix of annoyance and something more—a strange flicker of something I can't quite define. Want? Lust? I don’t know. But the way Vincent's eyes burn into me makes it hard to think straight.

Without saying a word, Vincent reaches for the cupcake on the table in front of him, smirking as he brings it closer to my mouth. "Feed me," he demands, his voice low and authoritative.

“What?” I gasp.

“You came in here, flirting-”

“I wasn’t-”

Vincent growls, his blue eyes darkening like the ocean under moonlight and I shut up, because they're gorgeous and terrifying.

“You were flirting, and now everyone thinks you wore this sexy little outfit for farmer boy Jasper, when you wore it for me.”

“I wore this outfit because you had it delivered and told me to wear it.” I snap back, but he just spreads his lips into a smirk.

“You wore it so I could watch your perky ass peek through every time you twirled around, or bounced when you were happy.” Vincent curls his finger under my chin, and I look at him head on.

“I am sitting on your lap, is that not you claiming me?”

“You’re sitting on my lap because Cast was pissing me off, and I was two seconds from getting on my knees, in the middle of this cafeteria and eating you out.”

Holy pineapples in a fruit basket.Vincent was about to what? And here?

My cheeks beat a bright red, and I want to crawl off Vincent's lap and hide, but the way my clit pulsates under my skirt forces me to shift on Vincent’s lap, and cross my legs which don’t help,because I am 99% sure there is a third leg poking me in the butt, because there is no way in hell,thatis Vincent’s dick.

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