Page 96 of Bonds of Hate

“Maybe you’re just drunk enough to see double,” Logan snickers.

“Or you’re a damn cheater.”

“You say cheating, and I hear royal privileges.”

They sound more relaxed than I’ve ever heard, practically jovial. The empty liquor bottles and beer cans scattered across the coffee table make it clear why that is.

Ares gestures for me to come closer. “Show us the goods, love.”

They give me appropriate oohs and aahs as I give a little twirl, so the skirt flares up a few inches above my knees. The positive attention is gratifying, especially when it’s missing the sardonic edge that seems to color every interaction I have with them.

But drunken Alphas are even more potentiallydangerous than sober ones. Sure, drinking enough liquor to kill a normal person makes them pleasant in the short-term, but there is no telling when the mood will turn.

I give them a coy smile. “Enjoy your evening, gentleman.”

“Wait!” Ares says with a manic grin, eyes lit up from. “Come play with us.”

I drift back toward the door. “It’s getting late?—“

“Sit.” Logan’s command freezes me mid-step. He pats the space next to him on the couch. “Right here.”

Cillian bows low. “Duty calls. I’ll leave you all to it.”

“Stay,” Logan orders. “You’re playing, too.”

I slowly approach the couch as Poe deals me in. The cards are worn smooth from use, decorated with intricate designs I don’t recognize.

“The rules are simple.” Ares hands me a crystal tumbler of amber liquid. “Each card has an action. Get it wrong and you drink.”

“And if I get it right?”

“Everyone else drinks.” Logan’s predatory grin makes my stomach flip. “Hope you can hold your liquor, little Omega.”

I eye the glass in my hand. The liquid burns my nose — definitely not watered-down at all. Getting drunk around these Alphas seems like a spectacularly bad idea.

Good thing I know something they don’t.

Logan’s thigh presses against mine as I settle into the seat next to him. His arm drapes across the back of the couch behind me, fingers teasing my bare shoulder.

I give him a small smile. “Deal me in.”

The next few rounds pass in a blur of laughter andincreasingly outrageous challenges. They make no secret of their attempts to trap me into being the one who drinks with every turn. I take each shot without complaint, letting the burn ease down my throat and settle warmly in the pit of my stomach.

The Alphas get progressively more intoxicated.

“Jack!” Poe slaps down a card. “Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” I say, earning groans from the others.

“Boring.” Logan’s fingers trace patterns on my shoulder. “Make it good, Poe.”

Poe’s dark eyes glitter too brightly. He seems to struggle with focusing his gaze on my face. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

My eyes burn as dizzying spirals through my mind. Those memories don’t have any place here, especially not right now.

“Pass.” I lift my glass in a mock toast. “I’ll drink instead.”

“No fun at all,” Ares complains, swaying slightly as he pushes the deck toward me. “Your turn, princess.”

---