Page 100 of A Sin So Pure

“You’re barefoot.”

“And you’re drunk.”

A lazy smile dimples his cheek. “I think that’s a matter of opinion.”

“Well, I’d say my opinion is that you’re smoked. Both of you.”

My eyes cut to Wrath, and he bristles, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout.

“Are you judging us?” he says.

I laugh through my nose, shaking my head. “Not in the way you think.”

“You’re always so judgy,” he grumbles under his breath.

“Oh-kay,” I drawl.

So, Wrath is an honest drunk.

An awkward beat passes between the three of us where Wrath avoids my gaze, and Silas gets a devilish gleam in his eyes.

“We were celebrating today’s achievement. But then, Robbie here made a bet that he could drink a half liter faster than me,” Silas says, rolling his glass between his hands.

“Youwere the one who made that wager,” Wrath says, seething. He points an accusing finger at Silas, so close that I think he’s going to poke Silas’s eye out. “I had to say yesotherwise you’d pull the king card on me—” He hiccups. “And don’t call me that,especially in front of her.”

Silas turns to me with thatI told you sosmirk plastered across his face. “Robbie’s very fun to rile up.”

“I can see you enjoy doing that.”

Another moment passes in awkward silence. The stove’s heat sends warm waves up my back, which has finally cooled from my nightmares. I cross my arms over my chest, matching Wrath. His glare has lessened, but he’s still visibly unhappy to have me interrupting.

“So, who won?” I ask.

“What?” Wrath says.

“Who won?” I raise my brows at the two, head tilting to the bottles.

They share a look, the one that Josie and I share often—the one where two friends have a conversation with nothing but their eyes and a tilt of their head.

And then they break out into laughter. It fills the air; the deep timbre of it matches the warmth of the room. The illustrious Unseelie King and the deadly militia leader, boiled down to giggling boys.

I wait, unblinking, waiting for their laughter to subside.

“Neither, unfortunately,” Silas says on a wheezing breath. “I got a smidge animated and knocked our glasses over. They spilled, and we lost our place. We settled for a draw.”

“Ah, so he’s a cheat too?” I volley to Wrath.

His eyes narrow on me, suspicious, but I can see the agreeing smile twitch at the corner of his lips. I might not like the man, but I can see what Silas is trying to do here. He wants to break the vitriol between Wrath and I. But, to what end?

Isn’t that always the question with Silas?

“Yeah, he is,” Wrath relents.

“You wound me with such accusations,” Silas croons, one hand spreading across his chest. “I’d never cheat.”

“Uh-huh,” Wrath mutters as he takes a swig straight from the bottle of liquor.

“Did you know Wrath was named after his father?” Silas asks, turning to me, wounded facade gone and replaced with foxlike cunning. “He hated his father. So, he prefers his formal title. Makes me use it even though we grew up together.”

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