He wasn’t talking to Bobby anymore.
He was watching me.
And I wondered if he’d been watching me the whole time.
But as I slowed enough to catch my breath, a shadow slid in behind me, too close. Close enough that the hairs at the back of my neck lifted before I even heard his voice.
“Didn’t know the Valkyries had dancers,” the guy said, tone dripping with confidence. I didn’t recognize the voice at all—not like I had Connor’s when I’d charged into him earlier this week—and I’d drifted from the group a little.
I shifted back a step, enough to re-establish space, but he followed like he hadn’t noticed, or didn’t care.
“You’re the captain, right? I’ve seen you online,” he said, leaning in like we were already in conversation. “Let me buy you a—”
He didn’t finish, because Micah appeared at my side so fast it was almost comedic. She planted a hand against his chest, firm but polite.
“Yeah, no,” she said flatly. “Back it up, man. It’s girls’ night.”
The guy blinked. “I was just—”
“Doesn’t matter,” she cut in, her voice carrying that particular lethal softness she saved for referees who made terrible calls. “She’s with us.”
I was grateful for her intervention because I froze, which wasn’t like me at all. I didn’t know what came over me. My scowl deepened as I looked at the man who thought it was fine to touch me without my consent. I lifted my foot to step forward and give him a piece of my mind when a hand wrapped around mine.
Before I even registered what was happening, I was pulled back, gently but decisively, until my spine met solid muscle and a familiar chest pressed against my back.
His voice came next. A low timbre that settled in my bones rather than my hearing. One that I knew instantly.
“She said she’s with them.”
The guy’s gaze flicked between us, confusion twisting into annoyance. But he wasn’t stupid. Not with Micah staring daggers into his soul and Connor, tall, calm, immovable, behind me. I became hyper-aware of everything at once: the heat of him, the steadiness of his presence, the quiet certainty in his voice. It was ridiculous how quickly my body recognized him and relaxed at his presence.
“Alright,” the guy muttered, lifting his hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean anything.”
“Good,” Micah said cheerfully, already dismissing him with a shooing motion. “We’re done here.”
He disappeared back into the crowd.
But Connor didn’t let go.
His hand stayed around mine, his chest at my back, his breath brushing the shell of my ear as he leaned in just enough to speak without anyone else hearing.
“You okay?”
My pulse stumbled.
I hated that it did.
“I’m fine,” I said, even though the word sounded softer than I intended.
Micah gave me a look but didn’t comment. She drifted back toward Evie, giving us space I hadn’t asked for.
Connor’s thumb brushed once against my knuckles. A small, unconscious sweep, but it burned through me.
He let go only when I finally turned to face him, giving me back my hand like it was something delicate. I turned to face him, and he was closer than I’d expected. Close enough that the thrum of music felt distant compared to the sound of my own pulse.
I swallowed, painfully aware of how warm my skin felt. “I said I’m fine,” I repeated, because I thought he was going to ask again.
“I heard you.” His voice was low, even, almost frustratingly calm. His mouth opened to say something else and, god, save my soul. I almost leaned in closer, but self-preservation kicked in like an ice-cold bucket of water.
