Page 180 of Harley & Her Ferals

“Sorry that I don’t have a tip,” River jokes. “Hold on, okay. Let me put this down.”

He turns back to us, holding a wooden platter with a large pepperoni pizza.

My favorite.

Did my brother truly order this to be made for us?

I wish that Lionzio would come to visit me. I know that Alphas aren’t meant to during the bond leave, but Lionzio is my brother.

Family.

I’ve never cared that he’s adopted. He’s my true brother and much closer than Allegra has ever been to me.

Did Dad forbid him to?

My mouth waters at the delicious spicy, rich tomato scent of the pizza. I lick my lips at the sight of the melted cheese that has seeped down the sides.

River carefully carries the pizza back to us, before placing it down in the middle of the circle like it’s a sacrament.

“There’s enough for us all to have a slice.” River’s cheeks are flushed with pride that he can provide for his pack. Then he straightens with a flourish. “But there’s more.”

He runs back to the door. Then he struggles to hold the half a dozen bottles that the bored security Alpha passes over, along with a black cat bottle opener, before slamming the door in River’s face.

“He’s pissed that he didn’t get a tip.” I grin.

“How about: don’t slam the door on the customer next time,” Laurent drawls.

River carries the bottles of beer and soda across the bedroom, before settling between Laurent and me on the floor.

“Pizza and beer.” He places down the bottles. “A feast for my pack.”

I lay my hand on his knee. “It’s perfect, Riv.”

I tear a slice of hot pizza, which is dripping cheese, and pass it to our Chief Alpha.

Feral takes it like an offering, devouring it with relish that makes something deep inside me content.

I want him to eat like this every meal from now on.

Feral snatches up a beer, snapping off the cap with his canine. He passes it to River.

“Thanks, mio re. I’ve never had a beer before.” River nudges Laurent. “We can be drink ‘V’s together.”

Laurent looks unsure, picking up a slice of pizza and taking a neat bite instead.

Making a decision, I grab a bottle of beer and weigh it in my hand. “You never got to taste that beer in the bar, before you were snatched, right?”

Laurent’s expression tightens. “Serves me right for—”

“There was nothing wrong with wanting to prove your independence. You were celebrating your freedom from your mom. We can do it now, Sweet Thorn.Together.” I pick up the cat bottle opener, which I love because it represents my ring name, and lift the cap off with a flick of my wrist.

I hold it out to Laurent.

He freezes. “I’m not twenty-one.”

“This is the Underworld,” River whispers conspiratorially. “I hate to break it to you, la mia rosa, but we’re criminals.”

“You don’t say,” Laurent replies, dryly.

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