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“Have you had anymore contact from … you know who?” the female bush dog asked, her voice too low to carry to the others.
“Nope, I haven’t heard a peep from him,” replied Blair. “I told Mitch that over the phone yesterday. Didn’t he mention it?”
“Yeah, but I wondered if there’d been any activity between the phone call and now.”
“No, none at all.”
“Good. Then we’ll drop the subject so you can enjoy your party. Plus, I gotta ask … Who is that woman over there staring at you?”
Blair followed Kiesha’s gaze, almost snorting when Finley quickly looked away. “Ah, that would be the enforcer I told you about who thinks she should be Beta female.”
“Oh,” said Kiesha, drawing out the word, a dark note to her tone. “Can we play with her a little?”
“It’s on my schedule. Because it doesn’t seem like she intends to heed the warning I gave her.” Finley had been civil on arriving at the party, but not deferential—silently communicating that she hadn’t accepted Blair as Beta.
“She’ll soon regret testing you,” said Kiesha before taking a sip of her Cosmo. “You know, she’s not the only one who keeps firing looks your way.”
Yeah, Blair had noticed. “Don’t tell Mitch, but not everyone is sold on me.”
Kiesha’s brows snapped together. “Why not? Is it just because you’re a bush dog?”
“Is what because she’s a bush dog?” asked Bailey, appearing at Blair’s other side with Havana and Aspen in tow. “Something wrong?”
“Blair keeps getting weird looks,” explained Kiesha. “Not bad looks, just … well, I don’t like it.”
Blair sighed. “They’re not convinced that an eighteen year old can handle the role of Beta female.” Personally, she was just glad that the only enforcer with that attitude was Finley.
Bailey scoffed. “What does age even matter? In truth, you could be ninety-five.”
Blair felt a frown tug at her brow. “No, I really couldn’t be.”
Bailey placed one hand on her hip. “Who says our age should be truly decided by how many times we’ve orbited a glowing, spinning, hot sphere of gas?”
“Scientists,” replied Deke, coming up behind the mamba.
Bailey spared him the briefest glance. “They say all kinds of shit. Like, hey, we have nine planets. And then later they take it away like, no, there’s actually eight.” She sniffed. “I find science unreliable. And boring.”
“Probably because you don’t care for logic,” said Deke.
“You could be right, Eye Candy.”
“My name is Deke.”
“So?”
He ground his teeth, his nostrils flaring.
Tilting her head, Aspen looked from Blair to Kiesha. “Is it true that bush dog shifters eat snakes?”
“Yup,” replied Kiesha.
“Even venomous ones?” asked Havana.
Blair nodded. “Uh-huh.”
Aspen’s brow pinched. “But … your bodies can’t neutralize snake venom, right?”
“Right,” Blair confirmed. “I think that’s only a bearcat thing.”
Bailey’s nose wrinkled. “So, how do you not, like, die?”
“We tend to sweat out the toxins,” said Blair. “Usually get a fever, too. We sometimes blackout for a few minutes as well, though that’s rare. But we’re fine after an hour or so.”
Luke sidled up to Blair, a beer bottle in hand. “What are we talking about over here?” He guzzled back some of his drink.
“Butt plugs,” replied Blair.
He choked on his beer and coughed. “That was mean.”
She grinned. “Totally.”
Camden materialized and passed a fruity cocktail to Aspen, who thanked him with a sweet smile.
Bailey frowned at him. “You didn’t get any of us drinks?”
Camden’s brow furrowed. “Why would I?”
The mamba folded her arms. “Oh, I don’t know, to be polite.”
“He’s a tiger,” said Havana. “He doesn’t do ‘polite.’ Neither do you. And what does it matter? You have a drink on the table over there.”
“It’s the principle of the thing,” said Bailey.
Aspen’s brow creased. “You don’t care about principles. You have none.”
“Not seeing what that has to do with anything,” said Bailey.
Camden grunted at her. “Be grateful for what I do give you.”
The mamba blinked. “Which is what?”
“The honor of breathing my mate’s air,” he replied.
Bailey snickered. “It’s cute how much you hate sharing her.”
“How is it cute?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t question these things.”
Blair shook her head, her mouth quirking.
More time passed as they drank, ate, played pool, and even danced.
Later on, as she and Kiesha were heading to the restrooms, Blair silently swore at the scene they came upon. Two females were up in each other’s space, pointing and cursing and engaging in a plentiful amount of colorful smack talk. Words like “whore,” “slut,” and “skank” were being thrown around.
From what Blair could gather, they were each competing for the same dude and neither liked that the other wouldn’t back off. This wasn’t the first time she’d caught them arguing over the years. Rhonda and Lucille simply didn’t get along.
“This ain’t gonna end well,” Kiesha predicted as the two women went nose to nose.
Blair’s inner female stiffened as Finley came into view, walking toward the arguing women with a mask of determination etched into her face.
