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“I'm thinking plenty.”

Owen snorts. She smacks the back of his head.

“Don't laugh at the poor fool.”

“Thank you.”

“He's clearly suffering from a lack of common sense.”

“Never mind,” I mutter.

Annabeth sets the casserole down.

“What'd you do?”

“He bit Belinda without her permission, without explaining, and apparently, without wooing her,” Megan says.

Traitor.

Annabeth freezes. Her eyes slowly turn toward me.

“You did what?”

“It wasn't intentional.”

“Were your teeth accidentally in her neck?”

Owen coughs into his fist. I glare at everyone.

“This is really fucking helpful guys, thanks.”

Annabeth smacks me in the back of my head, then plants both hands on her hips.

“Ouch!”

“Better you than me,” Owen murmurs.

“Young man, if that woman is your promised mate, you don't win her by stomping into her house and announcing she belongs to you.”

“I didn't stomp.”

“You flew.”

“Into a tree,” Owen adds.

“Shut the fuck up, Owen.”

Annabeth points at me.

“There's your first problem.”

“What?”

“You're always thinking about winning.”

I frown.

“Of course I am.”