Chapter 32: THE KISS THAT STARTED WAR

REED

I was going to kill him, the thought consumed me, burning through my mind with such intensity that everything else faded to background noise.

I was going to kill Asher Graham.

I’d been watching him all night, watching the way he moved through the crowd with fucking Scott at his side, qatching the way he touched Scott’s arm, watching the fuckng way he faked laughed, performative, but effective and watching him try to make me jealous, and damn it was fucking working.

Goddess, it was working so well I could barely breathe through the rage. I wanted to tear everyone and anything apart.

I hated everything going on around me and my pre-rut instincts were screaming at me. Every fiber of my being demanded I cross that clearing, rip Scott away from him, and claim what was mine but I held back, actually I was barely holding back because the warnings kept replaying in my head, although I don’t give a fuck about the rules because it doesn’t concern me.

I forced myself to stay in place, surrounded by my friends, pretending I wasn’t affected. Pretending I wasn’t watching Asher’s every move with an obsession that bordered on madness.

Let him think he was winning, let him think his little performance was getting under my skin, and then I’d make him regret it but then Asher pulled Scott closer.

Eliminated the space between them completely, and leaned in to whisper something in Scott’s ear.

My vision went red, pure, blinding rage flooded through me so violently that Callum actually took a step back.

“Reed,” he said quietly, his hand on my arm. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

I shook him off without looking away from Asher, from the way Scott’s hands were coming up to cup Asher’s face, from the way they were both leaning in, from the fact that Asher was about to kiss someone who wasn’t me, and that’s when I lost it completely.

The sound that tore from my throat wasn’t human. It was pure Alpha rage, raw and primal and terrifying. Students scattered, and I was moving before I consciously decided to move.

Stalking across the clearing, my wolf completely in control, my human rationality buried under layers of possessive fury.

Callum tried to grab me. “Reed, stop—”

I shoved him aside hard enough that he stumbled. The crowd parted for me, creating a space, everyone’s survival instincts telling them to get the fuck out of my way. My eyes were locked on Asher, on his platinum blonde hair catching the firelight, on his perfect face tilted toward Scott, and on the fact that his lips were inches away from someone else’s.

Mine.

The word pounded through my skull with every heartbeat.

Mine. Mine. MINE.

I reached them in seconds, I grabbed Asher’s arm and yanked him away from Scott with enough force that he stumbled.

Then I spun him around to face me, my hand coming up to hold his jaw, forcing him to look at me. Those blue eyes went wide with shock, fear, and something else I couldn’t name but I was too far gone to care.

“Mine,” I snarled, and my voice was barely human. “You’re mine.”

And then I kissed him, I crushed my mouth against his with all the pent-up rage, desire and obsession that had been building for weeks.

This wasn’t gentle, this wasn’t tender, this was claiming, this was possession, and this was me making it clear to everyone watching, to Asher, to Scott, and to the entire fucking Academy exactly who Asher Graham belonged to.

Asher made a sound against my mouth. Surprise or protest, I couldn’t tell and I was too far gone to care. I deepened the kiss, my hand sliding from his jaw to tangle in his hair, pulling his head back at an angle that gave me better access.

My other hand went to his hip, yanking him flush against me so he could feel exactly what he did to me. How hard I was, how much I wanted him.

The crowd around us erupted.

Gasps, shouts and the flash of camera phones lighting up the clearing like lightning but I blocked it all out.

There was only Asher, and only the taste of him. The sweet, intoxicating and so fucking perfect it made my wolf howl with satisfaction.

Only the way his body fit against mine like it was made for this like he was made for me.

For a second, Asher was frozen, completely still in my arms, then he kissed me back.

His lips parted under mine, his tongue met mine, then his hands came up to fist in my shirt, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away, and I lost my fucking mind.

The kiss turned brutal. All teeth and tongue and desperate need. I bit his lower lip hard enough to make him gasp, and I swallowed the sound and took his mouth again, deeper this time, and demanding everything.

My hand tightened in his hair, my body pressed harder against his, and I could feel him trembling. I could taste something that might have been fear or desire or both, and I wanted more.

I wanted to devour him, consume him, and make it so he could never think of anyone else without remembering this moment, this kiss, and me.

Cameras kept flashing around us, the crowd was going insane, voices rising in shock, excitement and disbelief, but I gave zero fucks about any of them. All I cared about was the fact that Asher Graham was in my arms, that his mouth was on mine, and that his scent was flooding my senses, sweet and perfect and driving my pre-rut instincts into overdrive.

I pulled back just enough to look at him.

His lips were swollen, his eyes were wide and dazed. His chest was heaving, he looked thoroughly kissed, and thoroughly claimed.

Thoroughly mine.

“Mine,” I said again, my voice rough and possessive. “You’re mine, Asher, and everyone here just saw me claim you.”

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