Page 64 of Reckless: Chaos

“And I,” Aria announces, producing a concerningly large bottle of whiskey, “brought the good stuff. Let’s take this party upstairs.”

“I don’t know if?—”

“If those alphas have a problem with it, they can bite me.” Ginger stands, pulling me up with her. “Besides, your omega already invited us. That means we have run of the house.”

“Speaking of the house.” Aria loops her arm through mine as we head upstairs. “Why the basement apartment? I thought Pack Locke was loaded.”

“They are.” I gesture at the mansion as we emerge. “The apartment’s actually nice—private entrance, security features. Plus...” I trail off, not wanting to admit how much I like having my own space while still being connected to them.

“Plus it’s easier to pretend you’re not falling for them when you have your own territory?” Willow’s tone stays gentle even as she starts raiding the kitchen for glasses.

“Something like that.” The admission costs me, but that’s what tequila is for.

“Fuck that noise.” Ginger’s already pouring shots. “We’re taking over the living room. I saw a sound system that’s begging to be used.”

Twenty minutes later, we’ve constructed what can only be described as a pillow fortress in the middle of their pretentious living room. Bottles line up on the coffee table like soldiers ready for battle, and Aria’s managed to figure out their sound system.

“To bad decisions,” Willow raises her glass.

“And the friends who help you make them,” Ginger adds.

“And alphas who better sleep with one eye open,” Aria finishes.

I knock back my shot, letting the burn chase away the last of my tears. “I’ve missed this so much.”

“We know.” Willow pulls me into her side. “Now, tell us everything. Starting with which one of them kisses best.”

I choke on my drink. “I am not drunk enough for this conversation.”

“Yet.” Ginger tops off my glass with more tequila. “Come on, spill. Four incredibly hot men, all living in close quarters? There’s no way you haven’t sampled the goods.”

“It’s not like that,” I protest, but heat creeps up my neck. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated like Theo-kept-you-distracted-with-his-tongue complicated?” Aria’s eyebrows disappear into her bangs. “Or complicated like you’ve been playing house with four hot guys for two months?”

“Both?” I take another drink. “Neither? I don’t know anymore. Last night with Theo was... intense. But now knowing it was just a distraction while they stole my drive...”

“Honey.” Willow’s voice carries that omega wisdom that makes you spill your guts. “I’ve seen how that omega looks at you. Whatever else happened last night, that wasn’t fake.”

“You’ve been here what, an hour?”

“Long enough to see four very guilty, very concerned men hovering around trying to figure out how to fix what they broke.” Ginger stretches out on a pile of pillows. “Also long enough to see the murder in Jinx’s eyes when we barged in. Man looked ready to throw down until Theo explained who we were.”

“He’s protective,” I mumble into my glass.

“He’s sprung,” Aria corrects. “They all are. Which brings us back to the important question—who kisses best?”

The alcohol must be hitting because I actually consider the question. “Theo’s all artistry and technique. Jinx is... intense. Raw. Like he might devour you whole. Finn’s methodical but thorough. And Ryker...”

“Yes?” They lean in like teenagers at a slumber party.

“I haven’t actually kissed Ryker yet.” The admission makes me take another drink. “He’s waiting until... well, I guess until he thought I was ready. Fat lot of good that did.”

“Four incredibly hot men, all with different kissing styles, all wanting you?” Ginger raises her glass. “Girl, you’re living the dream.”

“The dream where they don’t trust me with my own code? Where they use sex as a distraction?”

“No.” Willow’s voice turns serious. “The dream where four damaged, protective idiots fall so hard they make epically stupid decisions trying to keep you safe.”

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