Page 48 of The Onyx Covenant

I should push his hand away. Instead, I find myself hyperaware of the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of my pants and the slight pressure of his fingers.

“Your friend is mooning over Orion again,” Theron says, nodding toward Aria, who keeps stealing glances at Orion.

“She could do worse.”

“She could do better.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Such as?”

His gaze flicks toward Kieran, who’s engaged in animated conversation with his selected Omega, Rachel, and another male from the Umbra pack. “Just an observation.”

I’m not sure what to make of his suggestion. Did Kieran mention being interested in my friend?

Aria turns to me, her cheeks flushed. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”

“Definitely you,” I tease. “Especially when you keep staring at Orion like he’s the last piece of chocolate cake.”

She groans, dropping her head into her hands. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to everyone with eyes.”

“Great. Do you think he’s noticed?” she whispers.

I glance at Orion, who’s engaged in what appears to be a serious conversation with Cassius. “I think he’s too busy plotting battle strategies to notice much of anything.”

“Maybe I should throw myself at him. Make it impossible to ignore.”

“Or maybe you should focus on surviving the trials first, then worry about your love life.”

She sighs dramatically. “You’re no fun. What’s the point of possibly facing danger tomorrow if I can’t at least try to kiss the man of my dreams tonight?”

“The point is staying alive,” I say dryly.

“Oh, please.” She reaches for her goblet. “Even you’re not immune to a little pre-battle romance. I’ve seen how you look at Theron when you think no one’s watching.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I hate the guy.”

“Sure you do.” She takes a long drink, then makes a face. “This juice tastes strange. Almost… spicy?”

I take a sip from my own goblet, only tasting the slight bitterness beneath the sweetness of berries. “Tastes the same to me.”

Aria shrugs and returns to her food.

Voices grow louder, laughter more raucous as everyone enjoys the feast and seems to be getting along more. At the far end of the table, Maddox from the Umbra pack suddenly stands, swaying slightly before staggering toward the door, hand pressed to his mouth. Others are arguing loudly.

Theron’s hand slides higher on my thigh, and I nearly knock over my goblet in surprise.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, trying to push his hand away.

He catches my fingers, intertwining them with his own beneath the table. “What I’ve wanted to do since they shackled us together.”

Something in his voice makes me look up, and I’m startled by what I see. The carefully controlled mask he always wears has slipped, revealing an intensity that steals my breath. His pupils are dilated, nearly swallowing the gray of his irises.

“You’re acting weird,” I tell him.

“I’m acting honest.” His thumb traces circles on my palm, sending shivers up my arm. “There’s a difference.”

“Honesty doesn’t usually involve groping under the table.”

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