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“No,” Caleb muttered, more to himself than the group. He traced his thumb over the edge of his tattoo, hidden under the sleeve of his hoodie. A reminder of strength, of battles fought and won.
“You got something to say, Caleb?” Wander’s voice cut through the tension.
“Roman…” Caleb said, then stopped. What the hell was he doing? He swallowed hard, his skin prickling from every pair of eyes on him. “He needs someone who understands him. Who knows him and can read him.”
“Go on,” Wander prompted, a challenge in his gaze.
“Roman should play with me.” The words left Caleb in a rush, a bold claim hanging between them. Silence fell like a hammer.
“Excuse me?” Ryan blinked, disbelief written across his face.
“Me,” Caleb repeated, emboldened by the rapid pounding of his heart. “I’ve already played with him. He knows me, and I can read him well. He feels safe with me.”
Wander arched his brow. “Since when are you stepping up for Roman?”
“Since now.” Caleb stood, his chair scraping against the floor. Determination surged within him, a force he hadn’t known he possessed. “I can be what Roman needs. I can take care of him.”
“But you’re a sub, Caleb,” Ryan pointed out. “This isn’t how it works.”
“Isn’t it?” Caleb held Ryan’s gaze as if challenging him. “Who says I can’t make that call? Especially when Wander set me up with Roman to begin with. He gave me to Roman as a present.”
Wander slowly nodded. “I did, but that was meant to be a one-time thing.”
“I don’t think it was.” Caleb shook his head. “I think you were hoping he’d connect with me. You knew he…”
He stopped, not wanting to betray Roman’s confidence.
Wander scratched his beard. “You’re right. I did. I knew he needed this, and I figured you two could help each other. But I wasn’t expecting you to claim him. Because that’s what you’re doing, right? You’re claiming him? Asking for him to be off-limits to anyone else?”
Eyes widened, shock rippled, clinking of silverware ceased. There was a palpable shift as the others absorbed Wander’s words. Caleb felt their skepticism like a tangible thing pressing against him. They were clearly struggling to reconcile Caleb’s submissive nature with the authoritative stance he’d taken. It was clear they didn’t know what to make of it, that the lines between Dom and sub had suddenly blurred.
He swallowed. “Yes, Sir. That’s what I’m asking.”
“Are you sure about this?” Wander asked. “A claim like that comes with responsibilities. With expectations.”
“Damn sure.” Caleb stood his ground, his heart hammering. His assertion hung heavily in the room, a brazen declaration that challenged norms and questioned hierarchies. His voice was steady, even as his insides churned with a cocktail of fear and excitement. “I want to take care of him, Sir.”
“All right,” Wander said after a long moment. “But Roman has the final say, obviously.”
Fuck. Caleb hadn’t even considered Roman might prefer someone else over him. His heart fell. What if Roman wanted to play with Alex? Or with Jonah or David?
“Of course.”
“Okay, everyone, you heard it. Roman is off-limits.” Wander swept his gaze over the team with an unyielding steadiness that brooked no argument. “Caleb has first dibs, so to speak. Are we clear?”
Wander’s question wasn’t a question at all. It was a decree, one that demanded unity and respect. His support was a fortress around Caleb, an unexpected stronghold that fortified his resolve. No one would dare go against the boss.
“Clear,” everyone responded, some with words, others with nods—an agreement forged not from complete understanding but from the trust they placed in Wander’s judgment. They would give Caleb and Roman their space because Wander demanded it, because he had earned their unquestioning loyalty.
Conversations resumed, but Caleb said little, grappling with the magnitude of what had transpired. What had possessed him to take that step? He hadn’t been exclusive with anyone since Boyd. Hell, the thought had never occurred to him. So why did he care so much now? Why had he been so quick to claim Roman for himself? It made no sense. All he knew was that something in him had awoken, fierce and possessive, at the thought of anyone else being what Roman needed.
After dinner, Wander pulled him aside. “Walk with me.”
Not a request but a command, but Caleb had known it would come. He followed his boss without a word.
In a secluded corner of the hallway where the light barely reached, Wander turned to face him. His brother’s eyes, those windows to a soul that had seen too much, searched Caleb’s face. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“It’s not a game, Sir. I’m well aware of the stakes.”
