Zander’s POV.
I watched them make their way to the dance floor, my chest tightening with every agonizing step they took.
Each movement felt like a calculated blow to my pride, to my claim on her. Asher’s hands settled on her waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of her dress in a way that made my blood boil.
He pulled her closer than he needed to, close enough that anyone could see the intimacy in his touch, and what burned more than anything else was that she didn’t pull away. She didn’t stiffen or step back.
No, instead, she tilted her head slightly, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she let him guide her across the floor. That smile-it wasn’t just for him; it was for me, too. It was a taunt. A sharp, pointed reminder that she knew exactly what she was doing.
My grip on the edge of the table tightened until I felt the rough wood groaning under the pressure of my fingers. My wolf growled low in my chest, pacing restlessly beneath my skin, clawing for release. Every instinct in me screamed to intervene, to march onto that dance floor, rip her out of his arms, and remind her-and everyone else-exactly who she belonged to. The possessiveness burned hot and raw, but I forced myself to stay seated, my muscles tense and coiled like a spring ready to snap. I couldn’t give in to the fire just yet. Not here. Not in front of the curious eyes watching us, waiting for me to falter.
But I waited.
I waited because I knew that when I finally moved, it wouldn’t be in anger. It wouldn’t be in a frenzy of jealousy or rage. It would be purposeful, controlled, and final. If she wanted to test me, to push me, then I would show her exactly what it meant to provoke me. I would remind her of who I was-not just her husband, not just her Alpha, but the man who claimed her heart, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
The music swelled, a soft, romantic melody filling the room, and it was the final straw. I couldn’t sit there any longer, couldn’t let her continue this charade. Standing abruptly, I pushed my chair back with a sharp scrape that drew a few curious glances from the tables around us. I didn’t care. My strides were long and commanding as I crossed the room, my presence enough to make the crowd instinctively part in my path. Whispered murmurs followed me, but I ignored them. My focus was solely on her. Aria.
“Aria,” I said, my voice low and firm as I extended my hand toward her.
She looked up at me, her emerald eyes glinting with a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite read-defiance, amusement, perhaps even a flicker of hesitation. For a moment, she didn’t move, and I felt the tension stretch between us like a taut wire. I thought she might refuse, that she might choose to keep playing this game, but then, slowly, she placed her hand in mine. Her touch was warm, soft, but it carried a spark that ignited something deep inside me.
“Excuse us,” I said sharply, my tone leaving no room for argument as I tightened my grip on her hand. I didn’t bother looking at Asher. He wasn’t worth my attention.
As I pulled her into my arms and led her onto the floor, the music shifted to something slower, more intimate. Her body was stiff against mine at first, her posture rigid as if she were resisting me in her own quiet way. But I didn’t let that stop me. My hand pressed firmly against the small of her back, pulling her closer, forcing her to move in sync with me. The scent of her-soft and familiar-wrapped around me, and for a moment, I almost forgot my anger. Almost.
“What are you doing?” she hissed under her breath, her voice sharp but quiet enough that only I could hear. Her emerald eyes flashed with anger as she glared up at me.
“What am I doing?” I repeated, my voice low and dangerous, the edge in my tone unmistakable. I leaned closer, my breath brushing against her ear as I spoke. “What are *you* doing, Aria? Dancing with him? Smiling at him? Do you enjoy testing my patience? Do you enjoy watching me burn?”
Her lips curved into a small, defiant smile that only fueled the fire raging inside me. “Maybe,” she said softly, her tone laced with challenge.
My wolf growled again, louder this time, and I let out a slow, frustrated breath as I struggled to keep my composure. “You’re mine, Aria,” I said, my voice rough with barely restrained emotion. “Don’t forget that. Not tonight. Not ever.”
She opened her mouth to respond, her eyes flashing with something sharp-anger, defiance, or maybe both-but I didn’t give her the chance. Without hesitation, I spun her around, her dress flaring slightly with the movement, before dipping her low. The crowd around us gasped softly, their murmurs growing louder, but I didn’t care. I pulled her back up, her body flush against mine, and then I did what I had been wanting to do all night.
I leaned down and captured her lips with mine.
The kiss wasn’t soft or gentle. It was possessive, claiming, a reminder to everyone in the room-especially her-that she was mine. My Luna. My wife. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a warning, a declaration, a promise.
At first, she resisted, her hands pressing against my chest as if to push me away. But then, slowly, her resolve cracked. Her fingers curled against my shirt, and she melted into me, her lips parting as she returned the kiss with a desperation that matched my own. I could feel the fire between us, raw and undeniable, burning away everything else.
The crowd around us erupted into murmurs, their voices rising with curiosity and shock, but I didn’t care. Let them talk. Let them see. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the woman in my arms.
When I finally pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven, and her emerald eyes were wide with a mix of emotions-anger, confusion, and something far softer. I kept my hand on the small of her back, holding her close as I met her gaze.
“You can tease me all you want, Aria,” I said, my voice low and rough, each word dripping with meaning. “But don’t forget who you belong to.”
Her eyes narrowed, the fire in them reigniting as she tilted her chin up defiantly. “And don’t forget, Zander,” she said, her voice soft but sharp, “I didn’t choose to belong to you.”
Her words hit me like a blow, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I smirked, leaning closer so my lips brushed against her ear. “That may be true,” I murmured, my voice low and dangerous, “but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re mine. And I’ll remind you of that every chance I get.”
I straightened, releasing her reluctantly as the music came to an end. The crowd around us began to disperse, though I could still feel their curious stares burning into my back. I glanced over at Asher, who stood off to the side, his expression carefully unreadable. Our gazes locked, and I allowed myself a small, pointed smirk.
Let him try to challenge me. Let him try to take her from me.
Aria was mine.
And nothing-and no one-was going to change that.