My momentum is broken by a muscular forearm. I look up, expecting to see Philip’s face. Instead, I’m met with Jace’s concerned one. My entire body heats as he pulls me upright. My legs don’t cooperate, still shaky from surprise and further addled by the alcohol swimming in my system. I end up pressed against Jace’s chest as he supports my weight, keeping me vertical.

Dimly, I hear Philip saying something. Jace’s arms automatically tighten around my body in response to whatever it was. I turn my heavy head to see Philip standing close by, his face a mask of concern and anger.

“Let’s go, Vivienne,” he tells me in a hard voice. “You’re drunk, I’ll take you home.”

“You can’t,” Jace replies.

“Are you going to try and stop me?” Philip draws himself up to his full height, clearly preparing for an altercation if necessary. Although his stance is intimidating, he’s still several inches shorter and a couple dozen pounds lighter than Jace, leaving little doubt as to who the alpha in the situation is.

“Kennedy is an all-girls dorm,” Jace tells him. “Whoever’s at the front desk won’t let you take a drunk girl up to her room. They’ll call Campus Health, which will end up on her permanent record. It’s better that she sleeps it off here. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

The front desk attendants were told I’m the daughter of an important American government official, so all Philip would have to do at the front desk is flash his official badge and they’d let him take me to my room. However, he can’t say that to Jace without blowing my cover. I watch the indecision war on his face as he tries to decide what to do.

“I’m not leaving her alone with you,” he finally states.

Jace lets out a humorless laugh. “I don’t think that’s your call. Vivienne can make her own decisions.”

“Not when she’s drunk, she can’t,” Philip retorts.

Despite my role in the center of their argument, my entire body feels calm and relaxed. I would like to think it’s just another effect of the whiskey I’ve consumed tonight, but if I’m being honest with myself, I know it has more to do with the person I’m pressed against.

I can’t make out the blinking green numbers on the stove to tell what time it is, but my body is steeped in exhaustion and my heavy eyelids start to close without my permission. My head fits perfectly in the nook between Jace’s shoulder and neck.

“Vivienne, we’re leaving.” Philip tries to reason with me again. Frustration is evident in his tone.

If I were less exhausted and sober, I’d feel bad for the difficult position I’m putting him in. He has no way of removing me from the house and guaranteeing my safety without either attracting a horde of unwanted attention or revealing who I really am, neither of which he wants to do. However, my tired, tipsy self wants nothing more than to remain in Jace’s arms, which is exactly what I choose to do.