Page 32 of Claws and Effect

“I think it’s a butt dial,” Holden suggested, moving closer.

Then they heard Seren’s voice more clearly. “Are you still trying to text him? Give it up already and have another glass.”

“I was not texting him,” Laykin’s voice came through, clearly not addressing the phone. “I was just checking my messages.”

“Right,” Seren drawled. “That’s why you’ve mentioned his name twenty times in the last hour.”

“I have not!” Laykin protested, voice growing louder as if she’d moved closer to her phone without realizing it was connected.

Malachi’s eyes widened with delight as he mouthed to Zyle: “Butt dial jackpot!”

“No, but seriously,” she continued, clearly addressing Seren rather than the phone, “he’s nothing like what everyone says. Everyone talks about Zyle Rubin being this cold, calculating businessman, but he’s so...”

The three men froze, Malachi dramatically shushing Holden with a finger to his lips.

“...sweet and romantic,” Laykin’s voice softened. “And protective in this way that should offend my feminist sensibilities but actually makes my lioness purr. Like when he took that knife for me? Who does that?”

Heat bloomed in Zyle’s chest at her words. His expression must have betrayed something because Malachi clutched his heart and mimed swooning.

Seren’s voice cut through their eavesdropping. “Girl, you’re so done for. Another drink for mentioning him.”

“We’re playing the same drinking game!” Malachi shouted before Holden could stop him, accidentally revealing their eavesdropping and causing chaos on both ends of the line.

“What the—” Laykin’s voice turned mortified. “Are you on speakerphone? Have you been listening this whole time?”

“Surprise!” Malachi sang out. “Bros’ night meets girls’ night! Cosmically aligned alcohol consumption!”

“How much did you hear?” Laykin demanded.

“Enough to know I’m sweet and romantic,” Zyle finally spoke, taking the phone from his brother. “High praise from a woman who fights off armed attackers in designer heels.”

“Oh god.” The embarrassment in her voice was palpable. “In my defense, shifter metabolism or not, five bottles of wine between two people is a lot.”

“Five bottles?” Holden whistled. “Impressive.”

“That’s all Seren’s fault,” Laykin protested. “She insisted we needed to properly celebrate our ‘finally getting some’ party.”

Malachi howled with laughter as Seren’s indignant “Laykin!” exploded through the speaker.

The call devolved into hilarious cross-talk, with Seren and Malachi encouraging increasingly embarrassing revelations while Zyle and Laykin attempted to maintain some dignity.

“Did he tell you about the time he practiced asking you to dinner in front of his bathroom mirror?” Holden contributed unexpectedly, earning a betrayed look from Zyle.

“That never happened,” Zyle insisted, though the slight flush on his cheeks betrayed him.

“Did she mention she asked me if tiger shifters purr during sex?” Seren countered, to Laykin’s mortified gasp.

“I did not!” Laykin protested. “I asked if they purr in general. For scientific research purposes.”

“And what was the conclusion of this scientific research?” Zyle asked, his voice dropping to a register that silenced the room.

The momentary quiet crackled with electricity before Laykin answered, her voice equally low. “Inconclusive. More testing required.”

Malachi made gagging noises in the background while Holden unsuccessfully suppressed a laugh.

The night ended with plans for all five to meet for brunch the next day, leaving Zyle with both confirmation of Laykin’s genuine feelings and the unfamiliar warmth of friendship and connection.

After Holden crashed in the guest room and Malachi passed out face-down on the couch, Zyle retreated to his bedroom. The sheets still carried Laykin’s scent, a potent reminder of the night they’d shared. He picked up his phone, hesitating only briefly before sending a text:

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