Page 127 of Hybrid Heroics

“Sloane,” he fussed, gaining my attention as I tried really fucking hard not to touch a single thing in this three-foot wide space. Gross.

“Just one night. One fucking night. Stop thinking about mates and sex in the supply closet. Drink a fucking beer with me, then go hustle those assholes over poker in the back room or something. Your dry spell was killing us both, but you get laid every fucking day, bitch. You don’t see me every day anymore.”

I gawked at him for a solid minute. I didn’t have sex every single day. He was being ridiculous. But I’d let him throw his tantrum. Then I was finding that supply closet in exactly one hour. Seriously. I was going to time this shit, and whichever mate was closest when the clock ticked down was who would be dicking me—

“It hasn’t been that long,” he called out incredulously. “You walked in smelling like sex, if you can even call it that. It’s like they came all over you, and you just left it there. Was it the asshole druid or the snarling wolf?”

His curiosity made me flash him a smile. I knew he loved picking at me, and that was why we were in here, hiding in a stall like drunken college girls.

“Fine,” I relented, rolling my eyes. “You have me for the entire night. I’ll stay out of the supply closet for at least an hour. And I’ll even play poker or something. If you wanted me to stop watching everyone, then all you had to do was say so.”

“Okay,” Jack conceded. “One hour with me, then you can sully the freshly cleaned supply closet. But you’re drinking with me, so stop nursing that warm beer. You fucking promised.”

“Fine,” I repeated, letting him lead me out of the bathroom.

Thank the Devil. That stall was making me itch.

He was right, though. He happened to always be right when it came to me. I had promised him we’d drink a bottle or two.

I walked back to the bar and ordered four shots of chilled, top-shelf tequila with salt and limes. Dressed. I wanted dressed shots. Surprisingly, the bartenders were on their game tonight.

Everything else I had ordered in the past had been way too sweet. Basically pure sugar poured over liquor, and that was fucking disgusting.

As I waited for the shots, I gave the filthy bar a good appraisal. Jack had only been in ownership for a few days, but it was cleaner than it once was.

The sporadic pool tables had been moved to make the space look wider, more open than before. The thought of hustling someone other than my guys made me giddy. But I’d have to choose carefully.

When I looked back at the bar-top, there were four shots waiting for me in clean glasses. Ice-cold shots. With salted rims and lime slices hanging from the sides. I tipped my head to the man in front of me. This was an improvement.

I tossed them all back. Back to back. The bartender raised a bushy eyebrow at me, and I smiled innocently as I ordered four more. I would share these with my brother.

When I got to our table—the same table we always sat at—and hoisted myself onto the high stool, Jack gave me a mischievous grin.

Drunk Jack was fun, and I had missed him. But he was also the worst.

“See that gorgeous, deadly woman over there?” He described literally every female in the bar to me with a tilt of his head. “I’m taking her home tonight. She likes being in the middle.”

“Gods, Jack. She’s been hitting on that hulking wolf and that wicked reaper all night,” I mocked, recalling our conversation from weeks ago.

“Biiitch,” he slurred. “That’s the point. She gets all the big, horse d—”

I slapped my hand over his mouth, not wanting any more images floating through my mind and ruining the tipsy state that I’d spent so much time achieving tonight.

“I need six more shots before I might be able to forget what you were about to say.”

He chuckled, snagging my hand as we abandoned our table for the bar once again. The bartender passed us the bottle, rolling his eyes when Jack winked at him.

“I hope you have someone come out and clean the ice machine,” I commented absently, taking the bottle from him. “They’re always so dirty. You have no idea what kind of shit lives in the tubes and drains.”

“I’m sure you’ll add it to the list when you set the renovation budget,” he teased. “I’m letting you off the hook. Turns out, though, I fucking missed the hell out of you. I’m struggling to keep my hands to myself while watching Blaire lean over the pool table like that.”

“You have fun with that,” I told him, patting his chest. “I’m going to go play darts with those sexy animals over there. They look pretty good, but I know they like to gamble when the stakes are right. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

We smirked at each other, parting ways after I filled a glass with tequila and handed him the bottle.

They saw me coming from across the room.

With eyes locked on mine, they stalked me like the predators they were, even though they knew I was the biggest predator in the room. They didn’t care… Didn’t care if they were my prey tonight. Didn’t care if I snapped, snarled, or bit. Didn’t care that I was their mate when I instigated the competition.