Page 95 of Alpha Reid

Chase’s eyes come to mine again and my lips curl into a smirk.

He heaves a sigh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He drops his face into his hands, scrubbing them over it. “My head’s just all fucked up right now…”

“I figured as much.” I take a step closer, ignoring the obvious vibe he’s putting out that he wants to be left alone. “Wanna drink about it?” I pull the bottle of champagne out from behind my back and wave it back and forth to entice him.

It works. Chase’s eyes flicker with interest as he lifts his head from his hands.

“Yeah, fuck it. Pop that open.” He flops backwards onto the couch, flipping his hoodie up over his head and flicking his head toward the spot beside him in invitation.

I can’t help but grin. “Where are your glasses?” I ask as I start to peel the foil off the top of the champagne bottle.

“Fuck glasses,” Chase grumbles.

My brows shoot up, but I don’t push- I just fall onto the couch beside him. “Suit yourself,” I shrug, peeling back the rest of the foil and tossing it onto the coffee table. Gripping the cork, I start to work it out of the bottle, gritting my teeth and cringing in anticipation for the pop. I love champagne, but I hate popping it. It’s not like I’ve ever been shot in the eye by a cork or anything, but the possibility of that happening makes me irrationally nervous every time I pop open a bottle.

Chase must sense my apprehension, because after watching me hesitate and struggle with opening it, he snatches the bottle from my hands, holds it away from me, and pops the cork in one swift motion. The champagne starts to bubble up the neck of the bottle, but Chase quickly brings it to his mouth to prevent it from spilling over, taking several long pulls. He swallows, belching loudly before wiping his mouth with a sleeve and passing the bottle to me.

Charming.

I take it from him, bringing it to my own lips and taking a little sip. When I go to hand it back, though, Chase gives me a look of disapproval, so I raise it to my lips again, trying to take a bigger swig this time.

Champagne isn’t meant for chugging. The bubbles tickle my throat as it goes down, nearly making me choke. My eyes water as I pull the bottle from my mouth and hand it back to Chase, but he’s completely unphased, immediately taking another long swig of the champagne. He must be impervious to the effects of the carbonation.

He swallows it down, wiping his mouth with a sleeve again. “Heard you got your sister out.”

“We did,” I nod.

I don’t know why that suddenly makes me feel guilty. I guess it’s because on the same day I got my family back, Chase lost his.

“She alright?” he asks, passing the bottle back to me and reaching into his hoodie pocket. True to form, he pulls out a joint and a lighter.

“Physically, yes,” I say, taking another sip of champagne. I swallow it down, then rest the bottle on my thigh, sighing. “I don’t know, I think she’s putting on a brave face. A week after she turned seventeen she lost her home and her family, then was held prisoner for months. Not to mention the fact that they fucking tortured her in there. She’s gotta have some serious damage.”

“The same thing happened to you, and you seem to be alright,” Chase murmurs, fiddling with the joint in his hands.

“I’m stronger than she is.”

“Maybe you don’t give her enough credit.” He looks up at me, arching a brow in challenge, and I don’t have any retort. But why do I get the feeling we aren’t talking about my sister anymore?

Chase holds the joint up in front of his face, staring at it for a long moment. “Guess nobody can stop me from lighting up in the house now, huh?” he mumbles, shooting me a sideways glance.

“Guess not,” I reply quietly, watching as he places the joint between his lips and lights the end. The paper crackles as he inhales deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs and passing it to me.

I tuck the champagne bottle between my knees and take the joint from him. I can’t see Reid getting pissy about me getting high with Chase today, given the circumstances. I bring the joint to my lips and suck in the smoke, holding it for all of two seconds before I sputter on a cough.

“Fuckin’ lightweight,” Chase chuckles as he blows out his own smoke, plucking the joint from my fingers and taking another drag.

I shoot him a glare as I continue coughing, lifting the champagne bottle from between my knees and taking a sip to alleviate the burning in my throat. As I lower the bottle, Chase snatches it away from me to take another swig, trading me for the joint.

“What about Beta Rob, is he gonna be pissed that we’re smoking in here?” I ask, looking down at the joint between my fingers as I bring it to my lips. I inhale and somehow manage not to cough up a lung this time.

“Why should I give a shit?” Chase scoffs. “I’m Alpha now.”

I roll my eyes as I hand the joint back to him. I know he’s hurting, so I won’t call him out for needing an attitude adjustment right now- but I hope he comes to his senses sooner rather than later. He’s got a pack to run, after all.

The champagne and the weed have me feeling a little loose and uninhibited, so I finally bring up what’s been nagging in the back of my mind for the last day.

“During the battle, I saw you right before it happened,” I say carefully, giving a little shake of my head when he tries to pass the joint back to me. He takes another pull of it himself, instead, and I continue. “I tried to mind-link you when that other wolf was about to attack, and I swear I heard you say… that you called her…”

---