Chapter 6
Slade
THAT LITTLE FUCKER.
I watch Owen lean closer to Zara, his laughter ringing through the air like a direct taunt aimed at me.
His hand lingers on her arm, fingers splayed in a casual gesture that makes my teeth grind.
She whispers something, and he throws his head back, golden hair catching the sunlight filtering through the trees.
His eyes—those cerulean eyes that were wide with pleasure just hours ago—now avoid meeting mine across the clearing.
“Slade? Are you listening?” Naya’s voice breaks through my fixation.
I drag my attention back to her. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I was explaining how Mercury’s current retrograde is affecting communication.
It’s why we’re having trouble with this clue.
” She taps the paper in her hands, unaware that our lack of progress has nothing to do with planetary alignments and everything to do with my inability to focus on anything but Owen’s performance.
“Right,” I mutter, scanning our surroundings. Other guests and friends are scattered among the trees, lanterns swinging from their hands as they search for the hidden clues.
The scavenger hunt is the kind of activity I would normally find tedious but tolerable. Tonight, it’s torture—especially with Naya beside me, waxing poetic about cosmic alignments while Owen puts on a show with Zara not twenty feet away.
“The clue mentions a natural object that points north,” Naya says, studying the paper. “Maybe it’s referring to moss growth on trees?”
I nod, my attention drawn like a magnet back to Owen. He’s bent over their clue sheet now, pointing at something while Zara leans in, her shoulder brushing his. His mouth curves in a smile I want to bite off his face.
The rational part of my brain knows I have no right to this possessiveness. What happened between us was new, unexpected. We’ve barely discussed it. Yet the sight of him performing this flirtation burns through me like acid.
“Oh! Maybe it’s talking about a compass plant,” Naya continues, oblivious to my inattention. “Those align their leaves north-south to maximize sun exposure. I read about them in the lodge’s nature guide.”
“Could be,” I reply, watching as Owen whispers something in Zara’s ear that makes her laugh and touch his chest. My jaw clenches so hard I feel a muscle jump along my temple.
I kept my distance at dinner deliberately.
Bryce’s questioning looks and remarks hadn’t escaped my notice—my best friend knows me too well, recognizes when I’m acting out of character.
The way his eyes moved between Owen and me, suspicion forming in his gaze, had triggered a caution I rarely employ.
I’d played it cool, deflecting his attention, focusing on anyone but Owen.
I’d assumed Owen would understand the need for discretion, especially after Maia’s interruption earlier. But watching him now, I wonder if my silence has provoked something defensive in him—this performance that grows more exaggerated with each passing minute.
“Slade, I think we should try that path.” Naya points toward a winding trail that disappears into denser foliage. “I’m getting a strong intuitive pull in that direction.”
I nod, grateful for the opportunity to move. “Lead the way.”
As we walk, I throw one last glance over my shoulder. Owen watches me now, his gaze meeting mine. The challenge in his eyes is unmistakable. When he sees me looking, he leans closer to Zara, his lips almost brushing her ear as he says something.
A primitive emotion roars to life inside me. The surgeon’s detachment I pride myself on fractures, giving way to a baser instinct I rarely acknowledge. I want to drag him away from her, remind him whose taste was on his tongue hours ago.
“Did you know that Mercury retrograde is an optical illusion?” Naya chatters as we follow the path.
“The planet isn’t actually moving backward—it just appears that way from our perspective on Earth.
But the energetic effects are very real.
Communication breaks down, technology fails, plans go awry. ”
“Fascinating,” I respond, my attention split between our surroundings and the mental image of Owen’s face when I finally get him alone.
The path curves, taking us out of sight from the main clearing. I pause, pretending to examine a nearby tree.
“What is it?” Naya asks, stepping closer.
“Nothing. I thought I saw something that might be related to the clue.” I straighten, glancing back toward where we came from. “I’m going to check something. Wait here?”
She nods, already distracted by a cluster of wildflowers growing alongside the path. “Take your time.”
I go back to the main area, eyes scanning for Owen. The groups have dispersed further now, teams following different paths based on their interpretations of the clues. I spot Bryce and Ava near the small pond at the property’s edge. Maia and Jace are examining a large boulder.
Then I see him—Owen, alone by a stand of pines, consulting what appears to be a map of the property. Zara is nowhere in sight. Perfect.
I move with purpose, keeping to the shadows of the trees. When I reach him, I don’t announce my presence. I grip his upper arm and pull him backward, deeper into the cover of the pines. His startled intake of breath sends a surge of satisfaction through me.
“What the—” he begins, but I cut him off by pushing him against the rough bark of a tall pine, my body pressing against his, pinning him in place.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I growl, my face inches from his. Up close, I can see the pulse jumping in his throat.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t play dumb.” My hand slides up to grip his jaw, forcing him to maintain eye contact. “That performance with Zara. The touching, the whispering, the fucking giggling.”
A flash of defiance crosses his face. “I’m playing the game. She’s my partner for the hunt.”
“That’s not what this is about and you know it.” I press closer, my thigh sliding between his legs. Even through our clothes, I can feel his body’s response, the hard length of him pressing against me. “You’re trying to make me jealous.”
“Why would I do that?” he challenges, but his breath hitches as I shift my weight, creating friction against his growing arousal. “You’re the one who ignored me after what happened. Wouldn’t even look at me at dinner.”
So that’s it. The hurt in his voice is barely concealed, and something in my chest tightens in response.
“Bryce was watching us. He knows me too well. I was trying to avoid his questions until we figured this out.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed by anger.
“You could have told me that,” he says, his hands coming up to push against my chest. I don’t budge. “Instead, you just shut me out. Made me feel like I did something wrong, like you regretted what happened.”
“Do I look like I regret it?” I shift my hips again, letting him feel the hard evidence of my desire. His breath catches. “I don’t regret a single fucking second of what we did. What I regret is watching you touch her, smile at her, when your body still has my marks on it.”
His cheeks flush at this, the pink spreading down his neck. “I didn’t think you cared.”
“Bullshit.” My hand slides from his jaw to the back of his neck. “You knew what you were doing. You wanted me to react.”
He doesn’t deny it. Instead, his hands stop pushing and start pulling, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. “And now you are.”
“I am,” I agree, tightening my grip on his hair just enough to make his eyes flutter closed for a moment. “And I don’t appreciate being manipulated, Owen. Not by you, not by anyone.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have made me feel like I was a convenient toy to fuck with and forget.”
The words send a jolt through me. I tighten my grip on his hair, pulling his head back to expose the long line of his throat. “Is that what you think? That you’re just a convenient fuck?”
“What am I supposed to think?” he challenges, voice strained from the angle of his neck. “You came on my tongue, blew me, and then couldn’t even look at me across a dinner table.”
I lean in, my lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath his ear. “You’re not a convenient fuck,” I murmur, and he shivers against me. “You’re mine.”
Owen’s breath catches. “You can’t just claim me like that.”
“Too late. I already have.”
“Then why did you ignore me?”
“I told you. Bryce was watching. I needed time to figure out how to handle this.” My free hand slides down his side, finding the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath to meet bare skin. “I wasn’t rejecting you. I was protecting you.”
“I don’t need protection,” he argues, but his body arches into my touch.
“Maybe not,” I concede. “But you must stop playing games.”
His eyes darken. “And what if I don’t stop? What if I want to see how far I can push you?”
Without warning, I crash my mouth against his, swallowing his surprised gasp. The kiss is claiming, possessive, a statement of intent. My tongue pushes past his lips, demanding entry that he grants with a muffled moan.
His hands clutch at my shoulders, nails digging in even through my shirt.
I press him harder against the tree, feeling the rigid length of him straining against his pants.
One of his legs hooks around my calf, pulling me closer, seeking friction.
I break the kiss to trail my mouth down his neck, teeth scraping against his pulse point.
“Slade,” he gasps. “Someone could see us.”
“Let them,” I mutter against his skin, but I know he’s right. We’re hidden from the main paths, but not invisible. Anyone wandering this way would get quite a show.
I ease back, though I keep him pinned against the tree. His lips are red and swollen from my kiss, his cheeks flushed. The sight of him like this—disheveled, wanting—makes me ache to drag him to our room.
“Owen!” Zara’s voice calls from somewhere nearby. “Where’d you go? I found something!”
Owen’s eyes widen in panic. I move away, allowing him space to compose himself. He runs a hand through his hair, adjusting his clothes with quick, jerky movements.
“I’m coming!” he calls back.
I catch his wrist before he can move past me. “This isn’t over,” I promise. “Tonight, I’m going to make you pay for that little display.”
The flush on his cheeks deepens. “Whatever you say, Doctor.”
The title, delivered with a hint of mockery, only fuels my determination. I release his wrist, watching as he straightens his shirt one last time before stepping out from our hiding spot. He emerges into a small clearing just as Zara rounds a bend in the path.
“There you are!” she exclaims. “I found a compass rose carved into a stump. I think it’s our next clue!”
“Great,” Owen replies, his voice steady. “Lead the way.”
I wait until they disappear from view before emerging from the trees. I adjust myself, willing my erection to subside before I return to Naya.
As I make my way back along the path, I find her where I left her, now sitting cross-legged on a flat rock, eyes closed in what appears to be meditation.
“Find what you were looking for?” she asks without opening her eyes.
“Yes. I think I did.”
Her eyes open, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Your aura’s changed,” she comments. “It was all tangled and dark before. Now it’s…intense. Focused.”
I don’t respond to this, but she doesn’t seem to expect me to. She hops off the rock, retrieving our clue sheet.
“Shall we continue?” she suggests. “I think I’ve figured out the next location.”
I nod, following her lead while my mind remains fixed on Owen.
The possessiveness I feel should concern me—this sudden, overwhelming desire to claim someone I didn’t know two days ago.
Instead, I embrace it, this new hunger, this need to mark him as mine.
To make sure he understands to whom he belongs.
And tonight, when the games are over, I’ll teach him the consequences of playing with fire.