“What’s her obsession with you?”
Felix raises one shoulder in a shrug. “Our family is a little higher than hers in the hierarchy, I guess. Or maybe it’s just that I don’t want her.”
I can’t stop the beast of jealousy that’s rising up inside me. “But why not? I mean, she’s gorgeous.”
But even as I say that word, I know what I really mean isthin. Jealousy pulses through me, combined with a tiny bit of body dysmorphia. Every time I think I have this thing handled, that I’m reallylovingmy body like I’m supposed to, I’m reminded of all the privileges thin people are automatically awarded.
Felix levels his gaze at me, and the look in his eyes tells me he gets what I’m saying. Why wouldn’t he want to be with a woman who’s conventionally attractive? Beautiful and accepted by the pack?Thin?
“She’s not my type,” he says, letting his gaze travel up and down my body, the hunger in his eyes undeniable.
His insinuation is unavoidable—what he’s saying is thatI’mhis type. That my body is what attracts him, what turns him on.
It’s true, at least partly. I can deny the way he touches me, holds me, pulls me closer to him. The way his hands linger on me, and how his eyes go dark when we’re alone together.
“Okay,” I whisper, wanting to break out of this moment, pull out of this alcove. Because the emotions inside me are pushing at the bottom of my throat, growing more intense, threatening to snowball into something I can’t quite control.
“Okay,” Felix says, holding his hand out to me. “Should we dance?”
I stare at his hand, a voice in the back of my head saying that I should turn him down, find somewhere to sit, and wait out the rest of the wedding.
But it’s lovely, standing in his arms on the dance floor, and I’m already taking his hand before my logical brain can interject.
Chapter 24 - Felix
Her head fits perfectly on my chest. My arms feelrightaround her body. Her scent lingers around me, and all I want is to twist it up in my own, make her mine. Permanently.
I’m in love with her.
We stand in the center of the dance floor, the bride and groom dancing somewhere near us. Strings play from the corner of the room, covering a pop song, making the scene feel like something from a movie.
And I’m in love with Maeve Villareal.
Maybe I’ve always been in love with her—maybe growing up together meant we were justrightfor each other. Maybe it’s always been deeper than that, something biological, something bred right into our DNA. When she was born, and I was born, we were linked together like constellations, forever drawn to one another.
I’m not usually a poetic kind of guy, but being around Maeve recently has made normal words not quite enough to wrap around the way I feel for her.
We sway together, and I listen to the faint tapping sounds of her shoes against the floor, let the tips of my fingers brush against the ends of her hair. Focus on the feeling of her, the soft press of her breasts, her hips under my hands.
I know what I have to do.
I have to ask her to stay.
Thinking about her leaving, going back to Los Angeles, makes me feel thick with regret and dread. Makes me want to fall to my knees and wrap my arms around her, beg her to stay here with me.
She’d asked me about leaving Silverville. Is that something I could really do?
I try to picture it. Going to Los Angeles with her. Joining a firehouse there.
Would we integrate into a new pack? I know shifters move, but I’ve never really thought about the details—what it might be like to get to know a new supreme. What if we don’t like the supreme?
“What are you thinking about?” Maeve murmurs against my chest.
I take her shoulders, pulling her back so I can look at her. Her round, blushed cheeks. The little curls coming free from the waterfall braid she put her hair in this morning, sticking to her forehead. Those brown eyes, staring up at me, shimmering and deep.
For the first time in my life, anxiety rises up inside me at the thought of talking to Maeve. She’s always been the easiest person to talk to, even in high school, when I was trying to keep my distance.
And I know she must feel it, too. Why would she do all this—staying over at each other’s places every night? Spending all this time together? Agreeing to come to this wedding, even after she got enough of her inheritance to get her samples put together for Hollerand?
