Page 31 of Knuckles & Knives
“Wherever Raven is.” Axel’s mostly brown eyes find mine across the room. “Seems like that’s the same place all of you keep showing up too. Funny how that works.”
The temperature in the room drops several degrees.
Dom turns from the window, his expression thunderous. “Something you want to say, Rivera?”
“Just making an observation.” Axel’s grin widens. “Four grown men, one woman, and a lot of unresolved sexual tension. It’s like a really expensive porn setup, except everyone’s too proud to admit what they actually want.”
“Axel,” I warn, but he just shrugs.
“What? I’m not wrong.” He hops down from the couch arm with fluid grace. “We’re all here for the same reason. Might as well be honest about it.”
“And what reason is that?” Kieran’s voice is silk over steel.
“Her.” Axel points directly at me. “Everything else is just excuse and justification.”
The room falls into the kind of silence that precedes violence. It’s building in each of them—from the set of Dom’s shoulders and the whitening of Kieran’s knuckles around his glass to the dangerous stillness that’s settled over Marcus. Even Axel, for all his casual provocations, is sitting up straighter and gone very alert.
“Enough,” I say, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “All of you, sit down.”
“Raven—” Dom starts.
“Sit. Down.” I let command ring in my voice, the tone I learned watching my father control rooms full of dangerous men. “Now.”
To my surprise, they comply. Dom takes the chair across from Marcus, his movements sharp with suppressed aggression. Kieran abandons the bar for the opposite end of the sectional, putting the length of the couch between us but keeping me in his direct line of sight. Axel drops back onto the couch arm, closer than before.
Marcus remains exactly where he was, but something in his posture has shifted. He’s more attentive, more focused.
“Better.” I lean back into the cushions, letting them all feel the weight of my attention. “Now, since we’re all here, let’s have the conversation none of you seem willing to start.”
“Which conversation is that?” Kieran asks, though his tone suggests he knows exactly which one.
“The one where you stop dancing around each other like territorial wolves and acknowledge that you all want the same thing.” I meet each of their eyes in turn. “Me.”
Dom’s hands curl into fists. Kieran’s jaw tightens. Marcus goes very still behind his glasses. Axel, predictably, looks delighted by the chaos.
“It’s not that simple,” Dom says finally.
“Isn’t it?” I tilt my head, studying him. “You kissed me last night, Dom. You told me again that you don’t share and that I need to choose. What exactly is complicated about that?”
His dark eyes flash with something between desire and frustration. “The fact that you kissed Kieran days before that.”
“And spent an afternoon in Marcus’s office looking very thoroughly kissed when you left,” Kieran adds, his voice deceptively calm.
All eyes turn to Marcus, who adjusts his glasses with deliberate precision. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“But you do kiss,” Axel observes cheerfully. “Interesting development.”
They’re all watching me. All keeping tabs on me.
This is quickly becoming a problem, one I need to handle. I have so much pressure right now. What Marcus shared was a bomb, and I’m still processing it.
“What’s interesting,” I say before this can devolve into the testosterone-fueled pissing contest it’s clearly heading toward, “is that you’re all sitting here acting like I’m a prize to be won instead of a person capable of making my own decisions.”
“That’s not—” Kieran starts.
“That’s exactly what this is.” I stand up, needing the advantage of height and movement. “You want me to choose. Fine. But you’re going to hear my terms first.”
The room goes silent again, but this time, it’s expectant rather than hostile. Four pairs of eyes track my movement as I head to the window. I look down at the fight cages where other people are working out their aggression in more straightforward ways.
