Page 76 of Just One Bite
It’s a split decision that feels right. My body moves on its own.
“What are you doing?” Zant says slowly.
“Playing the game.”
I’m already across the lawn when I hear Zant cry out.
“Wait—”
“Hi!” I put an arm around Aster’s wide frame.
He smells like danger and blood as he bites his tongue, but he smiles.
“Owens.”
“Are you two friends?” a reporter asks.
“Definitely,” I say. “He’s graciously decided to back my nomination.”
“I thought he was backing Cane Archibald for the nomination?” another asks.
“That was before he knew I wanted to join. We go way back. Right?”
“Of course. What an honor to support Doxlothia’s Rage captain in his endeavor for success.” There’s no hesitation in Aster's words as they roll off his tongue. “Could you all give us one moment?”
Aster maintains his smile until we’re out of hearing range, and his fingers turn to claws as he fists my arm.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses through clenched teeth.
“Sending a message. I know you’re fucking with Olivia and her sisters. Now my image is your image.”
“You think I wrote that blog post?”
“If it wasn’t you, I can only think of one other person.”
He scoffs, dusting off his pants and fixing his hair. “Or maybe you’re wrong. Maybe … the same person that got you nominated is the one who ran the Osborne sisters’ names in the dirt. Or maybe they just got what they deserved.”
“Careful.”
“Fine. You want to play the game. We’ll play. Careful what you wish for.” He spits on the ground before walking headfirst back into the swarm of paparazzi with a smile.
I nod. My blood sings with that challenge. The natural fight of his inner wolf against mine.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Olivia
“It’s you,” he says, with no trace of doubt. “It’s always been you, Olivia.”
I’m full. Infinite. Safe. Home.
It’s not my fault. It’s just one day, sleeping became impossible without being next to Parker. It makes no sense. But his scent and warmth are a calm to my senses, and everything in my brain turns off almost instantly. He’s right, though, I can’t keep working my body like this with no sleep.
I feel sluggish after my warm-up, so I turn on my music.
It’s just me and Giselle. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. It’s the whole reason I’m here. I move from one variation to the next. It’s simple at first. Fluid and easy. Then I forget a step and stumble in my recovery.
My body is slow, but I’ve been eating enough. I know the variation. It should be perfect by now. But I’m stumbling, clunky. A step behind, and my arms are too rigid.
