The air shifts like someone pulled the plug on the room’s energy.
Everyone stills.
“You remembered that?” Trey asks softly.
Mac shakes her head. “No. Logan told me.”
Trey, ever the king of terrible timing, adds, “Actually… I was thinking of getting my dick pierced.”
“Jesus Christ,” Sam mutters.
“I don’t think I could go through with it, though,” Trey adds, scratching his neck.
Mac grins. “Maybe you just need to lose a bet to me.”
Every head in the room whips toward her.
“No,” we all say at once. Dead serious. Like she just invoked a dark ritual.
She blinks. “What?”
Trey’s already halfway off the chair, hands raised like we’re pointing weapons at him. “I never told her to say that. I did not tell her to say that.”
I narrow my eyes, my fork raised halfway to my mouth. The room’s frozen like she’s already spoken the ritual and bound us in oaths. She looks confused. Beautiful. Dangerous.
“Baby…” I set the fork down and tug her chair toward me with my foot, my hand sliding up her bare thigh. My voice drops. “We take wagers and challenges very seriously, angel.”
“How so?” she asks. I let out a sigh, and look to Chace, knowing he is carrier of the book of bets. Well, it was a notes app on his phone, but he did say when he had the time and inclination, he was going to have it down in hardback.
“When one of us issues a bet,” Chace says like he’s narrating a horror film, “we take it seriously.” He opens his phone and turns it to Mac. The notes app is full of entries; each stamped withdates and punishments. “Now that it’s been brought forward, it is officially raised with the Brotherhood of the Bets. Witnessed?”
“Witnessed,” Sam and I say at the same time, our expressions grave.
Mac blinks. “What the fuck is going on?”
I slide closer to her and press a kiss to the spot just behind her ear. “We get bored and make each other do dumb shit. Sometimes the stakes are low, sometimes they’re…body altering. Nipple piercings, regrettable tattoos, questionable garments. Sam even shaved his head once—jokes on us. He liked it.”
“Tried to call tampering. Call for forfeit,” Trey mutters.
“Denied.” Chace says, completely serious. “Grievance noted, though, Logan please don’t school the challenger.”
“Judge, I was informing the challenger of the motives, as she has not previously been made aware of the Brotherhood of the Bets.”
“It’s fine,” Mac says, “Please, continue. You guys are mega weird,” She laughs. “Aren’t you?” It’s that teasing tone I love, all mischief and fire.
“Challenge made to participant T. Baker,” Chace continues. “Loss results in piercing. Lower region. And to the challenger?”
Her chin lifts. There’s a wicked glint in her eyes that makes my heart trip. “Fine. If I lose, I’ll get a nipple pierced. Easy.”
The room goes still for a second.
I pale.
I know what’s coming.
“Denied,” Chace says. “Like for like.”
“I’ll accept a tramp stamp,” Trey offers. “Or, one of those hip tattoos. Or, y’know, a hood piercing.” Trey reasons.
