Chapter 18

Chapter

Eighteen

IVY

M ila Molotova struts across the screen one last time, her gun-arms swinging. The camera pans out to reveal she's walking into the sunset, leaving a trail of destruction behind her. Suddenly, the screen splits, revealing Brick's face. He grins, his overly white teeth glinting.

"You may have won this round, Molotova," he growls, "but the war ain't over. Not by a long shot."

Mila turns, facing the camera head-on. She cocks both her gun-arms with an exaggerated click-click . "Bring it on, sugar. I've got enough ammo in these babies to last me until the next millennium."

The credits start rolling from the bottom to the top of the screen as Mila and Brick start making out for no apparent reason and the worst synth-pop song I've ever heard starts blasting through the speakers. I can barely understand what the singer is belting outside of a few select lines like "the taste of freedom running down my throat," whatever that means.

I blink, trying to process the sheer absurdity of what I've just witnessed. "That's... that's how it ends?" I ask, lifting my head off Whiskey's chest to stare incredulously at him.

Whiskey lets out a hearty laugh, jostling me. "Yep! Leaves it wide open for Bros, Hos, and Foes 4: The Reckoning of the Reckoning."

"You're joking."

"Nah, but it doesn't exist. The day after this one hit theaters, the world ended. It's okay, though," he says, giving my shoulders a squeeze. "I think it still has a happy ending even if we never know if Mila got her revenge on the cyborg cowboy ninjas."

"I don't know how I'll sleep tonight," I tease, letting myself sink further into his warmth. It's... nice. Comfortable in a way I never thought possible with an alpha. The steady rise and fall of his broad chest, contrasted with the softness of his stomach, lulls me into a sense of security I know I shouldn't indulge in. Then again, it's like he was created in a lab to be as cuddly as possible.

"So, what'd you think, Valek?" Whiskey asks over his shoulder, his voice booming in the quiet room. "Good as you remember?"

Silence.

I crane my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the alpha behind us. He's still there, a dark, imposing figure at the edge of the nest. But he might as well be a statue for all the life he's showing.

"Aw, come on," Whiskey goads. "Don't tell me you fell asleep."

More silence. Then, finally, a low mutter. "It was... adequate."

I can't help but snort at that. "The high praise is well deserved."

Whiskey's laugh reverberates through me, but I find myself worrying about Valek. Did he actually get hurt earlier? He's an unhinged force of nature, all violence and mayhem. But right now, he's just... quiet. Distant. It's unnerving in its own way.

"Told you it was great," Whiskey says. "Nothing like a good old-fashioned action flick to take your mind off things."

He's not wrong. For a couple of hours, I forgot about everything except explosions and terrible one-liners and the bear-shaped human furnace holding me in a nest of blankets and pillows.

I stretch, realizing how stiff I've gotten from sitting in one position for so long. My muscles protest, reminding me I'm not used to this kind of relaxation. As I shift, I catch a whiff of Valek's scent. It's still there, cold and smoky, but fainter now.

I twist around, peering over the edge of the nest.

Valek's gone. I didn't even notice him leave.

"When did he go?" I ask, frowning.

Whiskey shrugs. "Dunno. You know how he is."

"I guess," I mutter.

But I don't. I don't really know any of them at all.

That's the craziest thing about all this. In spite of how hard I've fought to not get attached to these alphas, to steel myself against their strange and unexplainable comfort so it doesn't hurt when I leave, I'm actually starting to feel like they're my pack. And yet I don't know anything about them other than the tidbits of information I've managed to pick up here and there.

I tilt my head back to look up at him. "What's your story?"

He stares down at me, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean? "

I roll over, my much smaller frame easily fitting on Whiskey's broad torso. His soft belly cushions me as I settle in, my forearms resting on the solid expanse of his chest. I prop my chin up, gazing directly into his warm honey-brown eyes. My body rises and falls with each of his deep breaths, emphasizing the size difference between us. It makes me feel like a doll.

"I mean, I don't know anything about you. Any of you, really," I say, studying the planes and angles of his face. The contrast between his rugged features and the softness in his eyes fascinates me. "And I want to."

Surprise flickers across his features, his eyebrows lifting slightly. "Huh. To be honest, we don't know much about each other either."

He scratches his chin, the stubble making a soft scraping sound against his short nails. The movement shifts me slightly, reminding me of how easily he could toss me aside, even accidentally. But instead, one of his huge hands comes to rest on my lower back, steadying me.

"I'm not that interesting, though," he continues. "Just a soldier from across the sea."

I find myself tracing the outline of a starburst-shaped scar on his upper chest with my fingertip. " Tell me anyway," I press, curiosity getting the better of me. "Where are you from?"

Whiskey's free hand comes up to play with a strand of my hair, twirling it gently between his thick fingers. "Columbia," he says after a moment. "Or what used to be Columbia, anyway."

I tilt my head, intrigued. "I've never heard of it."

He chuckles, the sound reverberating through my entire body. "Not surprised. It's a mess now, split into a bunch of warring city-states. Not much of a country to speak of anymore. Everyone's got their own idea of how to 'fix' it, but it ain't happening."

I frown, trying to picture it. "So you left because of the fighting?"

Whiskey lets out a bark of laughter. "Nah, the fighting's all I knew. Left 'cause I fucked up." He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You wanna know how I got my name?"

I nod, intrigued.

"I was a fresh-faced recruit barely old enough to hold a gun. Lied about my age to get in, actually. We were under fire at the port I was stationed at and my gun jammed. I had this bright idea to use a whiskey bottle for a Molotov cocktail." He pauses, chuckling. "Turns out I can't throw for shit. Missed my target by a mile and set our own barracks on fire instead."

My eyes widen. "What did you do?"

"What any self-respecting soldier would do," he says with a wink. "I ran like hell. Figured Columbia would think I'd done it on purpose, sabotage or something. The commanding officer already hated my guts. So I stowed away on a cargo ship and came to Reinmich to volunteer for the bigger war going on over here. Only thing I knew was fighting, so… might as well put it to use somewhere else, right?"

"And that's how you became one of the Ghosts?" I ask, piecing it together.

He nods. "More or less. They saw potential in me, I guess. Or maybe they just needed someone who could blow shit up and ask questions later."

I snort at that. "Seems like a valuable skill set."

Whiskey's laugh rumbles through me, and I can't help but smile. There's something infectious about his good humor, even in the face of his less-than-stellar past. I find myself wanting to know more, not just about him, but about all of them.

"What's your real name?" I ask, my fingers still tracing idle patterns on his chest.

"Whiskey," he replies, smirking. "The old me's long gone."

"I get that," I muse. "What about the others?"

He kisses my forehead softly, his stubble scraping against my skin. "Why don't you ask them? I bet they'd like to tell you about their histories, even if they're hard to talk about. Might help you understand them better."

"Maybe," I murmur, not committing either way. A mischievous thought crosses my mind, and before I can think better of it, I blurt it out. "Do you actually have a thing going on with Plague?"

Whiskey's eyes widen, and I swear I see a blush creeping up his neck. He clears his throat, suddenly looking everywhere but at me. "Uh, well... that's... complicated."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his reaction. "Complicated how?"

He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. A few loose strands fall back over his honeyed eyes as he averts his gaze. "I don't know if I wanna get into all the details," he admits with a sheepish grin. "But it was a one-time thing."

I can't help the heat that rushes through me as my imagination starts flooding me with images of Plague's gloved hands on Whiskey's broad chest, their lips crashing together...

"Tell me more," I whisper, my fingers ghosting over the fabric of his shirt, inching lower with each pass.

Whiskey shifts beneath me, his breath catching as my hand slips under his tactical belt. "I don't know if that's such a good idea," he mumbles, but I feel him hardening against my palm.

He's right. This isn't a good idea.

None of it is.

It's the last thing I need when I'm already struggling with these weird attachments to these alphas and what it means for me. But my hand doesn't stop. My fingers trace the hard line of his cock through his pants, and heat pools between my legs.

I want this. I want him. It has nothing to do with heat or biology or any of that bullshit. I just want to feel good, to forget everything else for a little while longer.

And I want to learn more about what he did with Plague.

"You sure about that?" I purr, pressing my palm against him more firmly. "Because it feels like you're pretty interested."

Whiskey groans, his hips bucking slightly against my hand. "Fuck, Ivy. You're killin' me here."

I smirk, enjoying the power I have over him in this moment. It's intoxicating, knowing I can reduce this mountain of a man to a quivering mess with just a touch .

I look up at him through my lashes, biting my lip. "What if I make it worth your while?"

His eyes widen, pupils dilating as he catches a whiff of my scent. "You're... Are you turned on right now?"

I nod, heat flooding my cheeks. "I didn't even know alphas could do stuff like that with each other until today," I admit. "It's... kind of hot. Especially you and Plague."

Whiskey swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Uh, why?"

I feel my cheeks flush as I try to articulate my thoughts. "It's just... you're so different. Plague's all buttoned up, you know? Always in control, always composed. And you're..." I gesture vaguely at him. "Well, not."

Whiskey laughs nervously. "Yeah, I guess we are pretty different."

"And he's so lean while you're so… big ," I continue, my voice dropping to a whisper as my hand drifts lower, caressing the base of his impossibly huge shaft. It's all I can reach in the tight space, considering he's already so hard.

Whiskey's breath hitches. "Ivy, I?—"

"I want to know what happened," I insist with a little grin, my free hand working at his belt. "Educate me."

He groans as I free his cock, the thick shaft springing up between us. I wrap my hand around it, marveling at how my fingers barely meet.

"It was in the infirmary," Whiskey starts, his voice strained. "After Wraith busted my shoulder up."

My hand glides up and down Whiskey's thick shaft, encouraging him, feeling his cock pulse and twitch against my palm. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps as he bucks into my hand. I can't help but marvel at the contrast—my hand failing to wrap all the way around his girth, my body dwarfed by his bulk.

"Keep going," I urge, my voice low and breathy. "What happened next?"

Whiskey groans, his hips bucking involuntarily. "Plague, he... fuck , Ivy, do we have to do this?"

I slow my strokes, teasing him. "You want me to stop?"

"No!" he blurts out, then catches himself. "I mean... shit."

I grin, picking up the pace again. "Then keep talking."

He lets out a shaky breath. "Alright, alright. So Plague offered to help me out, said I couldn't jerk myself off with my shoulder in that shape…"

"And you agreed?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Whiskey nods, his eyes squeezed shut. "Yeah, I... we were both pretty worked up. Your scent was everywhere, driving us crazy."

A thrill runs through me at his words. I hadn't realized how much power my presence had over them. "So what did he do?"

"W-well, you didn't want anything to do with us back then…"

"And?" I urge.

"He, uh..." Whiskey swallows hard. "He took both of us in his hand. Together."

"Both your cocks?" I ask, tilting my head. "Explain."

He groans again, his head falling back against the edge of the seat cushion on the recliner. " Fuck ," he rasps, his hips bucking again. "He grabbed us both. Our cocks were pressed together, and he just... stroked. Like you're doin' now, but… fuck…"

My mind races with the image, heat pooling low in my core as my imagination springs to life in vivid detail. I lean down, my tongue darting out to taste the precome beading on Whiskey's crown. He jerks beneath me, a strangled sound escaping his throat .

"Keep going," I urge, my lips brushing against his sensitive flesh. "I want more details."

His cock twitches against my tongue as I trace the thick vein along its underside. "Fuck, Ivy," he pants. "What more do you want?"

"Everything," I breathe. "How did it feel? What did Plague do?"

Whiskey's massive hands dig into the blankets beneath us, his knuckles turning white. "It was... intense," he manages. "Plague's hand barely fit around both of us. He's got those long fingers, though…"

"Mhmm," I murmur, taking him into my mouth and sucking lightly.

Whiskey's thick fingers tangle in my hair, not pushing, just holding on as if he needs an anchor. His voice comes out strained, breathless. "Plague, he... fuck ... he started slow… teasing. You know how he is… he's a dick…"

I pull off with a wet pop and he growls in frustration. "Oh yeah?" I whisper.

"Not you, too," he moans.

I run my fingertips along the underside of his cock. "Tell me how it felt."

He nods, eyes squeezed shut. "Okay, okay. It was... different. Good different. "

I lean down, flicking my tongue over one of his nipples through his shirt. He jerks beneath me, a strangled sound escaping his throat. I grin, doing it again.

"Keep talking," I urge, tugging his shirt up to give me better access as I continue working his shaft with my hand. He shrugs out of it and tosses it aside only to shout in surprise when I sink my teeth into his side.

"What the fuck, Ivy!" he barks.

I lean back, grinning at the red mark already forming on his tanned skin. "Sorry," I murmur. "Got a little carried away. A little… feral."

"Y-yeah, I fucking guess so," he says warily, still panting.

I trail my lips down Whiskey's chest, savoring the taste of his skin. My teeth graze his skin, eliciting a sharp intake of breath every time I nip at him. I smirk against him, drunk on the power I hold over this massive alpha.

"Keep talking," I murmur, my breath hot against his skin. "Tell me more about Plague's hands."

Whiskey groans, his massive frame trembling beneath me. "Fuck, Ivy. His hands are... they're rough. Calloused. But gentle, too. Like he could break you or cut you up if he wanted, but he doesn't."

I hum in acknowledgment, tasting, licking, nipping. His muscles twitch under my touch and I revel in the way his body responds to me.

"And then what?" I press, nipping harder at his lower belly where his strong body is the softest. The contrast fascinates me.

Whiskey's breath comes in short, ragged gasps. "He... he started stroking faster. Twisting his wrist at the top. It was... fuck, it was intense."

I reward his candor by taking him back into my mouth, swirling my tongue around his thick head, and I have to brace myself against his thick, muscular thighs to keep from choking as he bucks into me. Even then, I can barely fit half of him in my mouth.

My free hand sneaks under the waistband of my pants and between my own legs, seeking relief for the ache building there. I moan around Whiskey's cock as my fingers find my clit, already swollen and sensitive and soaking wet from slick. His cock hits the back of my throat and I fight against my gag reflex. Whiskey lets out a strangled moan, his hands fisting in the blankets beneath us before flying back up to my head and digging into my hair again.

I bob my head, taking him deeper with each pass. My jaw aches from the stretch, but I don't care. All I can focus on or even think about is the weight of him on my tongue, the salt-musk taste of his skin, the way his thick shaft pulses against my lips.

My fingers work furiously at my clit as I suck him, matching the rhythm of my mouth. Heat coils low inside me, building with each stroke. I moan around him, the vibrations making him twitch and groan.

"Fuck, Ivy," Whiskey gasps. "Your mouth... it's so fucking good…"

I hum in acknowledgment, taking him deeper still. His stomach tenses against my forehead as I swallow around him, my nose brushing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. I'm acutely aware of how small I am compared to him, how his muscular thighs bracket my shoulders, how one of his hands could easily wrap around my entire waist.

The size difference should terrify me. Instead, it thrills me.

I pull back, gasping for air, a string of saliva connecting my lips to his cock. "Tell me more," I demand, my voice raw. "What did Plague do next?"

Whiskey's chest heaves as he struggles to form words. "He... fuck, I don't know, Ivy, he was just jerking us off and twisting and… and being a menacing son of a bitch, and I… fuck…"

I reward him by taking him deep again, hollowing my cheeks as I suck hard. My fingers move faster against my clit, pleasure building with each stroke. I'm close, so close, but I want to hear more.

"And then?" I ask, pulling off just long enough to speak before diving back down.

Whiskey's hips jolt, his crown pushing hard into the back of my throat. I gag slightly but don't pull away. "I came," he chokes out. "I came into his hand. We… we both did. At the same time."

A jolt of heat shoots through me at his words. The image of Whiskey and Plague rutting against each other, fighting for dominance while doing something so unusual for alphas, floods my mind. I moan around Whiskey's cock, my fingers working faster on my swollen bud.

"Fuck, Ivy," Whiskey groans. "I'm gonna?—"

I pull away from Whiskey's cock right before he does, a wicked grin spreading across my face as I watch him squirm, completely at my mercy. His broad chest heaves, sweat glistening on his skin in the dim light.

He lets out a snarl of sheer frustration, looking every bit like he's about to pass out or fly into a rage or both. "What the fuck… why did you stop?"

"What if..." I start, trailing my fingers along the thick vein on the underside of his twitching shaft again, "you put on a little show for me? With Plague?"

Whiskey's eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat. "W-what?" he stammers, his face flushing an even deeper shade of red. "I don't... I mean, that's not..."

I raise an eyebrow, my hand stilling on his cock. "No? Then I guess we're done here."

"No!" he blurts out, then catches himself. "I mean... fuck, Ivy, you can't just leave me like this…"

I shrug, starting to pull away. "I can."

Whiskey groans, his head falling back against the cushion. "Fuck. Okay, okay. Fine. I'll... I'll talk to Plague. But I can't promise anything. I don't even think he'd want to."

A thrill runs through me at his words. I hadn't expected him to agree so quickly. "Good boy," I purr, leaning down to reward him with a long, slow lick from base to tip.

Whiskey's hips buck enough that the length of his hard cock hits me in the face, a strangled moan escaping his throat. I lunge for it like an animal and catch it in my mouth, between my teeth, eliciting a sharp growling yelp from him before he realizes I'm being gentle. His hands fly back to my head, fingers tangling in my hair like that might stop me from biting down too hard.

"I-Ivy, please, be careful, fuck ?—"

I turn my head and draw his cock back into my mouth as close to the hilt as I can manage. I hollow my cheeks, sucking hard, and he lets out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.

Suddenly, his grip on my hair tightens, and I find myself being lifted and turned. I let out a muffled yelp in surprise as he manhandles me, effortlessly repositioning my body so I'm laying upside-down on top of him, his warm breath on my pussy and my thighs straddling his head. Being face-down like this makes all the blood rush to my head. Already dizzy, I brace myself against his thighs.

I try to ask him what he's doing, but with his cock stuffed in my mouth, all I can manage is a surprised whimper as his tongue swipes along my slit. My hips jerk involuntarily and I start slipping forward, but his hands grip my thighs, holding me in place as he delves deeper, his tongue exploring my slick folds as his broad torso easily supports my entire body .

He's so much taller and larger than me, it's hard to keep his cock in my mouth at this angle, and I have to fight to keep it from slipping out. But when his knot begins to swell in my mouth, stretching my jaw to its limit, it's impossible to pull away even if I wanted to. Which I don't. The primal part of my brain revels in the fullness, in the way his thick shaft and knot pulse against my tongue and palette.

I try to focus on pleasuring him, but it's hard to concentrate with his tongue working magic between my legs. My eyes roll back into my head and my hips buck involuntarily, grinding against his face. He responds by sucking hard on my clit, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine.

A muffled cry escapes me, vibrating around his cock. Whiskey growls and purrs, the sound reverberating through his chest and into my body. The dual sensations—his mouth on my pussy and his cock in my mouth—are overwhelming. I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of absolute ecstasy.

His tongue flicks rapidly over my clit, and I see stars. My back arches, pushing my ass higher into the air. Whiskey takes advantage of the new angle, his tongue delving even deeper. One of his hands leaves my thigh and I feel a thick finger probing at my folds, gathering slick only to spread it around my asshole.

I whimper desperately around his cock and my instincts force me to clench as he breaches me. I can't even ask what he's doing or ask him to be gentle. All I can do is gasp and cry out around his cock, my tongue pinned in place by his knot.

"Shhh, relax, little wildcat," he whispers against my pussy before going right back to circling my clit with his hot tongue.

I try to obey, focusing on breathing through my nose, willing my muscles to unclench.

Whiskey's free hand kneads my cheek, his palm so large it covers nearly half of my ass. The pressure helps, and so does his thumb pulling my cheek aside enough to help work me open, grounding me as I adjust to the feeling of his thick digit slowly curling and pushing inside me.

I moan and purr frantically around his cock as he pushes deeper, the stretch burning in a way that's both painful and strangely satisfying. My hips buck involuntarily again, grinding against his face, seeking more of that friction on my clit as I thrash and writhe on top of him, my breath coming in such short gasps I'm getting lightheaded. Doesn't help that I can only fully breathe through my nose. He grunts as my nails dig into his sweat-slicked skin and I'm vaguely aware that I might be hurting him, but I can't seem to stop myself.

He doesn't seem to mind anyway. If anything, my desperation spurs him on. His tongue flicks and swirls faster over my clit, his finger pushing deeper into my ass. I feel so full, so completely owned by this massive alpha beneath me.

A second finger joins the first in my ass, stretching me further. The burn intensifies and I whimper, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. But Whiskey doesn't let up, his tongue working magic as he keeps working me open.

I can't breathe. I can't think. I can't do anything but feel as Whiskey's tongue lashes my clit and his fingers stretch me open. A scream builds in my throat, muffled by his thick shaft. My hips buck wildly, grinding against his face, his stubble scratching my sensitive pussy as I chase my release. I'm so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Just a little more...

Whiskey's fingers curl inside me, making me see stars all over again. His lips lock around my clit and he sucks harder than ever, his tongue flicking faster and faster as he finger-fucks my ass, and suddenly I'm falling. The waves crash over me, each one more intense than the last. My body convulses, muscles clenching around his fingers as ecstasy courses through every nerve ending like delicious fire was injected straight into my veins.

But he doesn't stop. If anything, he doubles down, his fingers pumping faster, his tongue working overtime. My orgasm builds again, impossibly higher, and I'm dimly aware that I'm making noises I've never made before. Desperate, animalistic sounds that I barely recognize as my own.

My nails rake down Whiskey's sides, leaving angry red trails in their wake. He growls, the vibrations sending shockwaves through my oversensitive clit. It's too much. It's not enough. I need more, need him to stop, need him to never stop.

Another orgasm hits me, harder than the first. My vision whites out, my body and ass arching off Whiskey's chest. I'm vaguely aware of his knot straining against my teeth and lips as I throw my head back, a muffled yet keening wail tearing from my throat.

Whiskey's arm wraps around my waist, holding me in place as I thrash and writhe. His fingers never stop moving, working me through the aftershocks and pushing me toward a third peak. I sob, overwhelmed by the onslaught .

"That's it, little wildcat," he purrs against my flesh. "Let go. I've got you."

His words unlock something inside me. I surrender to him, letting it consume me entirely. Wave after wave crashes over me, flooding my senses, each one blending into the next until I lose count. Time loses all meaning as Whiskey plays my body like an instrument, drawing out sounds and sensations I never knew I was capable of.

Whiskey snarls, his knot swelling to its full size just moments before his seed pumps into my mouth and down my throat. I have no choice but to suck and milk him until there's nothing left. No choice unless I want to fucking drown.

I don't know how long it lasts. Minutes? Hours? An eternity? All I know is that when it finally ends, I collapse over Whiskey, boneless and trembling. His fingers slip from my ass, leaving me feeling strangely empty, my hole fluttering and clenching.

For a long time, the only sound is our ragged breathing. Then Whiskey's knot starts to go down and he bucks his hips a little, freeing his cock from my mouth with a slick pop. I groan, taking the first full, shaky breath in what feels like a dangerously long time. I'm putty in his hands, my limbs floppy and useless and sprawling over his torso as he turns me around so I'm facing him.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice rough with concern and the rumble of his deep alpha purr.

I blink up at him, dazed and disoriented. I try to speak, but all that comes out is a hoarse croak. My throat feels raw, like I've been screaming for hours. Maybe I have. So I nod instead.

Whiskey grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Such a good girl."

I manage a weak smile, nuzzling into his touch. The praise washes over me, warm and comforting. It should bother me, this alpha calling me "good girl" like I'm some kind of pet. But right now, I can't bring myself to care.

"Are you done?"

Valek's voice, sharp and sudden.

Whiskey jolts beneath me, his muscles tensing. "Holy fuck, Valek!" he barks, his arms tightening around me protectively. "How long have you been there?"

I crane my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the other alpha. Valek stands in the doorway, his face an impassive mask. His eyes, cold and calculating, flick between Whiskey and me.

"Long enough," he says, his voice flat. "Thought you two might want a drink."

Whiskey turns bright red. "Fuckin' freak," he mutters under his breath.

"I can't drink," I croak, my voice raw and barely above a whisper.

"Hey, wildcat," Whiskey says, his voice softening. He looks down at me and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. "You can do whatever you want now. Remember?"

Valek's lips twitch into what might be a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Yes. And I hardly think we need to be concerned about following omega drinking laws."

I blink at him, still dazed, but surprised. "You'd let me, though?"

"Yeah, of course," says Whiskey, shifting beneath me.

I try to sit up, but my limbs won't cooperate. I flop back over Whiskey with a frustrated groan.

"I got you," Whiskey murmurs. In one fluid motion, he scoops me up into his arms like I weigh nothing.

My head spins at the sudden change in position. I cling to Whiskey's neck, burying my face in his shoulder to hide my embarrassment at being carried like this.

Whiskey brings me into the bar area, Valek following close behind. The cold air hits my sweat-slicked skin, making me shiver. Whiskey sets me down gently on one of the barstools, his hands lingering on my waist to steady me before draping a coat around my shoulders. His coat, I realize, catching his familiar scent. I cuddle into it with a groggy yawn. The air is chilly in comparison to being snuggled up against Whiskey.

Valek moves behind the bar, pulling out bottles and glasses with practiced ease. "What's your poison?" he asks, his accent thicker than usual.

"Whiskey, obviously," Whiskey says with a grin.

Valek rolls his eyes, pouring a generous measure of amber liquid into a glass. He slides it across the bar to Whiskey, then turns his attention to me.

"And for the little omega?" he asks, his voice low and silky.

I swallow hard, suddenly nervous under his intense gaze. "I... I don't know," I admit. "I've never had alcohol before."

"Never?" he echoes, raising an eyebrow. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" He reaches for a bottle of clear liquid, pouring a small amount into a glass. "Vodka," he explains.

"I don't know, bro, that's strong shit," Whiskey warns him.

"She can take it," Valek replies, looking at me. "Can't she?"

I hesitate, eyeing the clear liquid warily. Slowly, I reach for the glass. It's cool against my palm, condensation beading on the surface. I lift it to my lips, inhaling the sharp, clean scent.

"Go on," Whiskey encourages, his hand warm on the small of my back. "It's okay. Just, uh… maybe take a sip at first."

I take a small sip, bracing myself for... I don't know what. The liquid burns as it goes down, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I cough, my eyes watering.

"That's..." I gasp. "That's disgusting!"

Valek chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends a shiver down my spine. "The first sip always is," he says. "Try again."

Against my better judgment, I do. This time, I'm prepared for the burn. It's not as bad as before. In fact, there's something almost... pleasant about it. A warmth spreads through my chest, settling in my belly .

"Well?" Whiskey asks, watching me closely.

I lick my lips, surprised to find myself smiling. "It's... not bad, actually."

Valek nods, looking satisfied. "See? I told you." He pours himself a drink and raises his glass. "To new experiences," he says, his eyes locked on mine.

Whiskey and I raise our glasses, echoing the toast. The crystal clinks together, the sound sharp and clear in the quiet room.

As I take another sip, I notice Whiskey and Valek falling into their usual pattern of bickering. It's almost comforting, the familiar back-and-forth. I'm too dazed and sleepy from everything that just happened to pay much attention to it, other than noticing they're right back to jabbing at each other in spite of Thane's attempt at stopping it.

The vodka burns a fiery trail down my throat, warming me from the inside out. I take another sip, savoring the unfamiliar sensation. The world softens around the edges.

Whiskey and Valek's voices fade into a distant hum as I lose myself in the newfound buzz. Their words blur together, a steady stream of insults and jabs that wash over me like white noise. I lean against the bar, my head propped up on my hand, eyelids growing heavier by the second .

A loud thud snaps me back to attention. Whiskey's glass hits the floor, shattering into a thousand glittering shards. He leans over the bar on his beefy forearms, eyes unfocused and glassy.

"Are you okay?" I ask, reaching out to steady him. As if I have a chance at holding the alpha up at all when he's five times my size. Alarm bells start ringing in the back of my mind. I've seen him drunk before, but never like this.

Whiskey blinks at me, confusion etched across his features. "I... I dunno," he slurs, his words running together. "Jus' had th'one..."

Valek watches the scene unfold with detached interest, his silver eyes gleaming in the dim light.

Whiskey stands from the barstool and takes a stumbling step forward, his massive frame swaying dangerously. "I don' feel so good," he mumbles, reaching out to grab the edge of the bar. He turns slowly toward Valek with a low growl, his arms trembling to support his weight as his legs go to jelly. "What'd you… what'd you fuckin' do to me, you sick fuck?"

"Nothing," Valek says flatly. "It seems you are just a lightweight."

"No… you…" Whiskey groans, mixed anger and betrayal in his eyes as the fight drains out of him. Time slows to a crawl as I watch Whiskey fall. His eyes roll back in his head, lids fluttering shut as his knees buckle beneath him and he hits the ground with a sickening thud that shakes the entire room.

"Whiskey!" I cry out, leaping off my barstool. My bare feet crunch on broken glass as I rush to his side, ignoring the sharp pain. I drop to my knees beside him, hands hovering uselessly over his prone form. "Whiskey, wake up!"

He doesn't move. Doesn't even twitch. His chest rises and falls in shallow, erratic breaths, but his eyes remain closed.

"What's wrong with him?" I demand, looking up helplessly at Valek.

But for once, Valek isn't grinning or joking. His gaze is empty and devoid of light as he stares straight through me, his face an emotionless mask of stone.

My voice drops to a whisper. "What did you do?"

He doesn't say a word. But he doesn't need to. The blank, unfeeling look in his eyes answers my question better than words ever could.

He drugged us.

Valek fucking drugged us.