Chapter 295

Two beers in, the mood of the evening shifts somewhat. There is an ugly cloud hanging overhead, weighing us down with worries about what tomorrow brings. But the alcohol makes it all more bearable. The worry is still there, but it feels like it is separated from us by a fog.

Sitting around on the patio furniture, we’ve talked some. None of us really know what to expect from the meeting tomorrow with the Alpha King, though everyone certainly has some ideas.

Neil has tried to make plans for every contingency. But those plans, even he admits, will likely be thrown right away the minute they step through the door. Still, it helps him to try to think things through, so no one tries to stop him.

“I think he’s going to kill us as soon as we enter the parking garage,” Beau says. After a drink of his beer, he corrects, “No, wait. What am I thinking? Of course he’ll wait until we get upstairs.” He waves his drink toward me. “My father, you see, has a flair for the dramatic.”

I can see then, where Beau gets it from. I am grateful that their drama manifests in different ways. Beau likes his big gestures and his flashier clothes. His father leans in a more murder-y direction.

“If we are lucky,” Neil says, “he will actually want to talk.”

“You can’t think he will,” Beau snorts as he laughs. It’s bitter sounding though and makes me sad. I’m close enough to nudge his knee with my foot. “What?”

“Don’t be negative,” I say.

“I’m not negative,” Beau grumbles. He drinks from his beer again.

I roll my eyes. Thinking his dad is going to kill us is about as negative as it can get. The only thing worse would be if he thought his father would succeed.

“I’m serious,” Neil says. “We have cards we can negotiate with. When he sees what we can bring to the table, and what we can take away, maybe we can convince him to some kind of ceasefire.”

“He’s going to want too much,” Archer says. He’s the only one of us not drinking beer. He vied for Isaac’s whiskey stash instead. Isaac was quick to share, though Archer promised he would replace whatever he replaced tenfold. Whether that meant in price or quality remained to be seen.

Either way, the whiskey seems to suit him and he has sipped it steadily throughout the night.

“He might be reasonable,” Neil says, though his tone of voice reveals his own skepticism behind his words.

“The last time you tried to negotiate with him, he embedded silver under your skin,” Archer says flatly.

Neil’s face falls. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Neil,” I say, leaning forward.

Neil shakes his head. “It’s fine, Chloe.”

“Regardless of what happens,” Steven begins, “I don’t think we should allow Chloe to come with us.” Steven has drank the least out of all of us. He’s still nursing his first beer. It doesn’t surprise me that someone so serious wouldn’t care much for drink.

It also doesn’t surprise me that he wants to leave me behind.

It does, however, annoy the hell out of me.

“I’m going,” I say firmly.

“I agree she should stay behind,” Archer adds.

I glare at him. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. All of you!”

Neil stays silent. He already agreed not to stand in the way of my joining them, though it obviously doesn’t sit right with him. Traitor.

Only Beau seems indifferent. At least for a moment. When he sees me looking, he shrugs. “Frankly, Nanny. I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you decided to stay here.”

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” I remind them. “I have hold my own, and I will continue to do so.”

“Prove it,” Archer says.

I shoot him an even fiercer glare. “I will. What do you want to do? Fight?”

Archer narrows his eyes. He sets his glass aside.

Beau glances between us, back and forth, and forth and back. Then he starts laughing so hard, he spills some of his beer down onto the patio.

“What?” I snap at him.

Beau looks at me, takes in my seriousness, and then laughs harder.

“Explain yourself,” Archer says, voice low and dangerous.

“Every time you try to train with Chloe, Archer, it always ends with the two of you making out,” Beau says brightly. “At the very least. I’ve gone into the gym after you two and it reeks of sex.” He keeps laughing. Eventually, he has to clutch his sides. “But go ahead and prove something, or whatever.”

“It doesn’t always…” I start to say, but then let the words trail. Archer gaze on me softens marginally. He’s likely remembering, just as I am, all of the times we’ve tried to train only to fall into each other’s arms in other ways. In passion.

“Instead of playing the fool, why not just drop the pretense?” Beau asks.

“What do you mean?” I ask, not realizing I probably should be more afraid than I am to hear the answer.

Beau’s laughter ceases but his grin remains. It turns wolfish and mischievous. I hate how good it looks on him. Handsome, smug, devilish bastard.

“Since the sparring always devolves into making out, why not just jump straight there?” Beau says. “Don’t even pretend to spar. Kiss us instead.”

“Us?” Neil scoffs.

“Each of us, in turn,” Beau says, flashing his grin. “Unless you don’t want a turn, Neil?”

Neil fell silent.

“Cut out the middle man,” Beau continues, glancing back at me. “Get straight to the kissing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I scoff. I look around, expecting the other brothers to back me up.

Archer holds my gaze, expression unreadable. He does not look away.

Steven shyly glances away. His cheeks hold a dusting of red.

Neil, the one I expect to be the most vocal, holds my gaze as he swallows hard. He surprises me. He doesn’t speak up.

By now, it’s quickly becoming apparent that none of the brothers are going to speak up. And thereby, they all want their turns to kiss me.

I look back at Beau.

He stretches his arms wide and shrugs. “Well? What do you say, Nanny? Sounds like everyone else wants a turn?”

I lick my lips on impulse. Beau’s gaze drops down to my mouth.

“I’m just hoping that I get to go first,” Beau says.

“That’s something that needs to be discussed,” Archer snaps.

“What’s the matter, Archie?” Beau teases. “Afraid you won’t be able to compete? We all know no one can hold a candle against me when it comes to kissing and lovemaking.”

“Quantity does not equal quality,” Steven says.

“Steven, I didn’t even think you knew how to kiss,” Beau says.

Then Beau is a damn fool. Steven kisses like an absolute prince.

“Now, wait a minute,” I say. “I didn’t agree to anything.”

“Maybe we should have a contest,” Neil says. “Chloe can be the judge of best kisser.”

Oh my Gods. Sure, I would love to kiss the brothers, but to compare them? Not possible.

“No contests,” I say. I’ll hold firm to that.

Beau lifts his brow at me.

I realize that I didn’t say no kissing, merely no contests.

“Does that mean…?” Neil asks.

“Fine,” I say. My heart thunders in my chest. “I’ll kiss each of you in turns.”