Page 114 of Citius

“Yeah, but you’re not the one I’m worried about.” He gave a vague nod meant to encompass all my siblings. “They’ve been drinking. None of you are mated. And these aren’t your friends.”

“You…have a point,” I conceded.

Even though Pack Redmond knew everyone here, that didn’t guarantee good behavior, especially when you mixed alcohol with suggestive pheromones.

“How soon?”

Cal tried—and failed—to hide his triumphant smile by draining the rest of his beer. “One more drink, then I’m all yours.”

Thirty-Two

Morgan

“Weeeaaassel, y-you’re a wea-sssel,” Rory slurred against my shoulder as I guided him across the walkway toward our guest room. “Sssuch a lovely weeeeasel.”

Cal’s escort service unknowingly came with three bonus rounds of drinks with my siblings. They’d cornered him against the kitchen island, peppering him with endless questions about his football career and role at the university. The conversation inevitably veered off course, devolving into a prolonged roast of Wakeland State and Finley the Fisher. By midnight, they’d turned into plastered pumpkins, wobbling and spilling laughter all over the loft.

Drawn by Rory’s drunken crooning, Kelsey emerged from her bedroom—hair down, pearls removed, sweater untucked. She stifled a yawn and reached for our brother.

“I’ve got this.”

“You sure?”

“Puppy pile!” Rory shouted and slipped out of my grasp, barreling past Kelsey to fling himself onto her yellow bedspread.

Her room was the opposite of mine, with a coral accent wall and vivid pops of color in bold patterns.

“You pig… You piggy little…heathen!” Piper staggered out of the bathroom in nothing but her undergarments and black stockings. Without a shred of irony, she dropped her sequined dress on the floor and started pawing through Kelsey’s dresser in search of nightwear. “Take your fucking shoes off! We weren’t raised in a barn.”

“Go.” Kelsey waved me off. “I’ll handle the children. The alpha’s your problem.”

After bidding them all goodnight, I went back downstairs.

Cal was sprawled across the couch, one arm arched over his head, exposing a strip of his stomach. Kip sat perched above his head, tail twitching as he watched Cal with intense focus, hoping to resume their prolonged game of fetch—not that Kip had retrieved a single toy Rory or Cal had thrown for him in the past hour.

Cal flashed a lazy grin. “Your family’s great.”

“I know.” I headed into the kitchen to fill a tumbler of water for him, adding a lid and straw, just in case.

“Like really, really great,” he half-mumbled as I approached. “Makes sense—” His grin grew wider. “Because you’re wonderful.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I perched on the side of the coffee table and held out the water. “You’re drunk.”

“Buzzed at most.” He sucked down the water with all the zeal of someone who’d been stranded in the desert for a month.

“Not fit to drive.”

“Yes, Dr. Van Daal.” The straw made a horrid noise as he drained the final few drops and returned the tumbler to me. “I’m changing our one-on-ones to group meetings. In a conference room.”

I blinked at the abrupt change of topic. My temper flared, sorely tempted to be insulted. Was this about Garvey—or had I done something wrong?

The tumbler hit the coffee table. “Why?”

“Plausible deniability.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes.” Cal swung his legs to the floor, pushing himself upright with a slight groan. “You do.”

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