The casual way he stood there, smelling of Winter and blood and satisfaction, made something snap inside me. I lunged forward, grabbing the front of his shirt and slamming him against the wall. My eyes shifted, vision sharpening as the wolf rose closer to the surface, and I felt my canines lengthen into partial fangs.
"You knew," I snarled, my face inches from his. "You knew how I felt about her."
To his credit, Zane didn't struggle or try to break free. He met my gaze steadily, unafraid despite the claws now pricking through my fingertips.
"Yes," he admitted quietly. "Just like I know how Milo feels about her. And how Fenric watches her when he thinks no one's looking."
I growled low in my throat, the sound rumbling up from my chest. "She's not a toy to be passed around."
"No, she's not," Zane's voice hardened. "She's a grown woman who makes her own choices. This wasn't just me, Rook."
The truth of his words only fueled my anger. I knew he was right, Winter wasn't some passive object I could claim. She had chosen this, chosen him, at least for now. But the wolf didn't care about human reasoning or consent. It only knew that another male had touched what it considered ours.
"You mad because I got there first?" Zane's voice dropped lower, challenging. "Or because she wanted me too?"
Red tinged my vision as rage surged through me. My grip tightened on his shirt, claws tearing through the fabric. "You have no idea what you're playing with, fae."
"I'm not playing," Zane's eyes flashed, one blue, one green, both glowing with ancient power. "Neither is she."
I slammed him against the wall again, harder this time. Tattoos began to appear on his skin, glowing with fae magic as he prepared to defend himself. The air between us crackled with power, wild magic meeting primal fury.
"Stop it! Both of you!"
Winter's voice cut through the haze of anger. She stood in the doorway, her expression a mixture of fury and hurt.
Neither of us moved. My claws were still embedded in Zane's shirt, his magic still shimmering across his skin. We were locked in a standoff, neither willing to back down.
"I said stop," Winter's voice was dangerously quiet now. The blue markings on her arm began to pulse, responding to her emotions. "I'm not some prize for you to fight over."
Shame washed through me, cooling some of the rage. Slowly, I released my grip on Zane's shirt and stepped back, my features shifting back to fully human. Zane straightened, his own magic receding, though his eyes still glowed faintly.
"Winter," I began, not sure what I was going to say.
She cut me off with a sharp gesture. "No. I don't want to hear it. Not from either of you."
The hurt in her eyes was worse than any physical blow. I'd seen her face down cultists and inter-dimensional horrors without flinching, but now she looked at me like I'd betrayed her somehow. And maybe I had.
"This isn't a competition," her voice shaking slightly. "I'm not something to be won or claimed or fought over like dogs with a bone."
Zane winced at the comparison. "That's not what this is."
"Isn't it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks exactly like two supernatural alpha males having a pissing contest over territory."
The accuracy of her assessment stung. I looked away, unable to meet her gaze.
"I care about both of you," Winter's voice softened, the anger giving way to something more vulnerable. "And Milo, and even Fenric with his bureaucratic stick up his ass. And I refuse to let this prophecy or your egos or whatever this is," she gestured between Zane and me, "ruin what we've built together."
The silence that followed her words was heavy with unspoken emotions. I risked a glance at Zane, finding his expression as conflicted as I felt. We'd both screwed up, letting instinct override respect.
"I'm going to go back inside," Winter finally said when neither of us responded. "When you two are done being idiots, maybe we can talk like adults."
She turned and walked back into the apartment, her shoulders stiff with anger leaving Zane and me alone in the hallway.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The rage had drained away, leaving behind a hollow ache in my chest. I leaned against the opposite wall, suddenly exhausted.
"She's right, you know," Zane finally broke the silence, straightening his torn shirt with a grimace. "We're being idiots."
I grunted in reluctant agreement. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."
