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“Just so you know,” I tell him, determined to get the last word. “She looks hot, but in bed, she’s a bit of a drag. So not worth it.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Wyatt replies and playfully punches my shoulder.
I take another swig from my bottle, not wanting to lose my drunken haze. If Lord Lincoln’s drug really works, I should be good to go for the rest of the night before my wolf recovers his healing abilities and shits on our parade.
Priscilla’s two friends look at me with wide eyes before putting their heads together and giggling. I suppress the urge to roll my eyes but make a mental note to drink more alcohol. I’ll make sure that Wyatt understands the sacrifice I’m making for him to get laid.
Wyatt offers Priscilla his arm, and she hooks hers through it. The two girls give me an expectant look, but I just push past them, not even trying to pretend to be a gentleman. They can take care of themselves for all I care.
They are rather pretty, my wolf comments, noting their long brown hair and attractive facial features, along with a set of plump lips on one and almond-shape eyes on the other.
Boring, I reply, downing the rest of the whiskey, and then throwing the bottle in the trash. Well, a few feet from it, but it’s the thought that counts.
Wyatt must’ve sent a text to his driver because the black limousine was already waiting in front of the door. Wyatt holds his hand out to Priscilla to help her in, and then goes behind her, not bothering with her friends. Following his lead, I do the same, ignoring the shocked gasps from the two girls. I really have no interest in them, so I don’t see the point of pretending.
Priscilla and Wyatt take the whole seat for themselves, leaving me with her friends. Wyatt is far from shy, and buries his face into Priscilla’s neck, kissing and tickling her. I roll my eyes when she giggles and squirms. Been there, done that, not worth repeating.
“I’m Sarah, and this is Teena,” the one with plump lips says, daring to start a conversation with me.
I’m about to tell her off when I notice Wyatt’s warning look, so I sigh and offer them a mocking smile instead. “Prince Grayden Gray.”
Yet again, I’m forced to suppress a groan when Sarah and Teena turn toward one another to exchange a quick gossip about this revelation, which I’m pretty sure isn’t new. Everyone knows who I am.
“I heard that Prince Garren’s missing,” Teena says, locking her almond-shaped eyes on me.
“Where did you hear that?” I challenge, cocking my brow in question.
“Um…well,” Teena stammers, then looks at her friend, suddenly at a loss for words. It’s so easy to render them speechless. All I have to do is ask them a direct question, and boom, their little brains turn to fluff.
It’s Priscilla who answers, “He hasn’t been around for a while.”
I turn my head to her, giving her the full force of my attention. “And just how well do you know my brother?”
“He’s our future king,” Priscilla replies with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s my job to know everyone that is someone.”
“What is it that you do, darling?” Wyatt asks with his heavy English accent. Though he’s smiling, and he uses a term of endearment, his body goes all tense as he undoubtedly remembers his unfortunate roll in the hay with an infamous reporter.
“I’m one of the partners in the top New York PR agency that King Grey has on a retainer,” she replies with a proud tone.
Wyatt exhales, his entire body relaxing. He buries his face in her neck again and mutters, “Smart girls are so hot.”
“You still didn’t answer my question,” I say to Priscilla, narrowing my eyes at her. “How well do you know Garren?”
The corners of the black-haired beauty’s lips quirk up. “One could say that I know him as well as I know you.”
I swallow hard, hoping that my face didn’t turn green. Leaning forward, I smash the button to open the window, breaking it. Fortunately, the window rolls down, but there’ll be no way of closing it. That’s a tomorrow problem, one that definitely won’t be mine.
More like a dog than a wolf, I push my head through the open window and heave with effort as my stomach convulses. I retch again and again, but nothing comes out. My throat is acidic with bile that’s stuck there.
I finally give up and take a handful of deep breaths instead. The city air isn’t exactly fresh, but it’s a lot better than the stuffy air inside the limo.
“I need a drink,” I say to no one in particular when I return to my seat.
With his brows furrowed in concern, Wyatt wordlessly hands me a bottle of champagne from the mini fridge on his left side. Ignoring his worried look, I grab the champagne and unceremoniously open it. The pressure pushes the bubbles out, and I jump forward, putting the bottle to my lips and eagerly gulping down as much as I can in one long chug.
“All right, mate?” Wyatt asks when I set the bottle down and wipe my mouth with my sleeve.
“Not really,” I reply, swallowing an excess of saliva. “While I generally don’t care about a woman’s past, there’s something in me that can’t get over the disgust of knowing that my brother and I shared a...conquest.”
