Chapter 13 – Sean
Chapter
Thirteen
SEAN
Okay, this is getting fucking ridiculous.
I’ve been watching my pack mope around Villeneuve’s big fancy room for two hours now. Regina’s curled up in an armchair with a book, staring at it so intensely I’m thinking about putting a cover on my dick just to get some of that attention.
Seems like it might work.
Killian’s standing by the window like some kind of brooding Victorian ghost, arms crossed, jaw tight, staring at nothing. He does that a lot lately.
And Micah is pretending to read on his phone next to Regina, and Rowan is probably actually reading, but he still looks miserable.
We all are.
Yeah, I know. Killian’s sick. Possibly dying.
Definitely turning into something none of us want to think about.
The whole situation is a giant steaming pile of shit and there’s nothing any of us can do except wait for Vyse to maybe find something or watch Killian slowly lose himself to the virus eating his brain.
But at some point, waiting stops being productive and starts being just... sad. And right now, we’ve crossed that line by about a zillion miles.
Killian’s shoulder looks worse than it did this morning. I noticed when he reached for his coffee earlier. The dark veins have spread past his collarbone now, branching up toward his neck. He caught me looking and turned away.
He keeps doing that. Turning away. Putting distance between himself and the rest of us, especially Regina.
Like he’s already started the process of letting go.
Fuck that.
I stand up from my corner of the couch, where I’ve been doing my own version of moping, and clap my hands together loud enough to make everyone jump.
“Alright,” I announce. “This is pathetic.”
Regina looks up from her book. “What?”
“This.” I gesture broadly at the room. “All of us sitting around being sad. It’s depressing as shit.”
“Sean,” Micah says carefully, “we kind of have reason to be depressed.”
“Yeah, I know. But sitting here staring at walls isn’t going to fix anything, is it?” I walk over to the fancy wooden cabinet in the corner that I’m pretty sure Villeneuve uses for storing his booze. The man has good taste, I’ll give him that. “What we need is a distraction.”
“A distraction?” Killian asks flatly.
“Yep!” I find what I’m looking for, a bottle of something expensive and amber-colored. Probably older than all of us combined. Perfect. “We’re throwing a rager.”
“A rager.” Regina’s tone is skeptical. “There are five of us.”
“A mini rager. A ragelet. The point is we’re doing shit other than being sad.” I take the bottle and a handful of glasses, carrying them back to the center of the room. “Everyone on the floor. Now.”
No one moves.
“That wasn’t a request.” I drop down onto the expensive rug from some underworld monster Villeneuve probably hunted and skinned for not studying hard enough and start pouring drinks, filling each glass to the brim. “Come on. I will literally drag each of you down here if I have to.”
“You could try,” Killian mutters, but there’s amusement in his voice. I’ll take it.
Regina sighs and closes her book. “Fine. But if Villeneuve comes home and murders us for getting alcohol on his antique rug, I’m blaming you.”
“Absolutely. One hundred percent my fault. I accept full responsibility.” I pat the spot next to me. “Come sit, Storm.”
One by one, they join me on the floor. Micah first, because he’s the most likely to go along with my bullshit even if he pretends like he’s above it. Regina takes the spot I patted, close enough that our shoulders brush. Killian and Rowan eventually settle in to her right.
Good. We’re all here.
“Okay.” I place the empty bottle in the center of our little circle. “We’re playing truth or dare.”
Regina eyes the bottle. “Truth or dare doesn’t usually involve a bottle.”
“It does the way we play it. Whoever it lands on has to choose between truth or dare. And if you choose dare, you spin again, and you’ve gotta kiss whoever it lands on.”
“Oh really?” She arches an eyebrow. “You played this way before I came along?”
My face goes blank. Shit. And here I thought it was a foolproof plan to launch a makeout session with our Bonded.
“What? No!”
Micah starts laughing. “Dumbass.”
“Okay, fine, you caught me.” I feel my cheeks heat up, which is annoying. I don’t blush. Sean Brewer does not blush. “But I thought it would be fun with our Bonded. House rules, y’know?”
“House rules you just made up.”
“House rules I just made up, yes.”
Regina’s lips twitch. “I’m not complaining.”
Okay, so I guess Sean Brewer does blush. He blushes for his mate. I can live with that.
“Okay.” I clear my throat, spinning the bottle. It lands on Micah. “Truth or dare, bro?”
Micah sighs. “Truth.”
“Boring, but fine.” I think for a second. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done at a party?”
“That’s easy.” He grimaces. “I once tried to impress everyone by doing a backflip off a balcony and landed in a pool. Except there wasn’t a pool. It was a hot tub. With people in it.”
Regina snorts. “How did that work out for you?”
“Spoiler, um, no one was impressed. Especially the people I landed on. And I hit my head so hard, I tried to hit on Sean.”
“Worst day of my life,” I muse.
Regina is already laughing, so the game’s a success right off the bat.
Micah spins the bottle and it lands on Rowan. “You’re up, man. Truth or dare?”
Rowan considers. “Dare.”
Micah stops to contemplate his fate for a few seconds and grins maniacally. “You have to prank call my sister.”
Rowan’s expression falls. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, man, those are the rules of truth or dare. Unless you’re…” He gives a long, dramatic pause, but we all know what’s coming. Even before Micah lifts his arms and does the chicken wing flap. “Chiiiiicken.”
Rowan rolls his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, that works on Killian, not—“
“Chiiicken,” I crow, leaping up alongside him and doing my own version of the dance, which involves a hand flapping on top of my head.
Rowan grimaces in disgust. “That’s not even a good—“
“Chicken, chicken, chiiiicken!” Micah and I chant in unison, strutting around the group in a small circle.
Killian doesn’t join in like he usually would, either because of the whole werewolf thing or because he’s trying to be cool for Regina.
But our mate is laughing her ass off, which is a totally fair exchange for looking like a fucking tool. Haven’t heard that sound nearly enough lately and I’d gladly humiliate myself in front of the entire damn campus if it put a smile on her face.
Rowan’s eyes flick over to her and he sighs. “Fine,” he mutters, taking out his phone. “But this is stupid.”
“He’s just scared she’s gonna hex his junk,” Micah says, flopping back down on a pillow he dragged off the couch and onto the floor.
I settle in too, scooting closer to Regina to enjoy the show. “This’ll be good,” I tell her.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she mumbles halfheartedly, but her attention is fixed on Rowan as the phone rings.
Sadie picks up after a few rings and she already sounds annoyed. “What?”
Rowan freezes up for a minute before he puts on the worst British accent I’ve ever heard. “Hello, this is… Bertram… from Hot Topic. Do you have a moment to take a survey?”
Bertram?
That’s it. A deep belly laugh is already welling up in my throat, but Regina lunges to clamp both hands around my mouth, even though she’s shaking from trying not to dissolve into giggles herself.
Micah is on the floor, beating the carpet with his fist and even Killian seems like he’s struggling.
Rowan facepalms as Sadie’s silence stretches.
Just when I think she’s about to tell him to fuck off, she finally answers, “Yeah, sure, whatever. Just make it quick.”
Rowan blinks like he can’t believe his luck. Or his lack thereof.
Regina is in my lap now, so I’m enjoying the show even more. I wrap my arms around her, feeling the tremors of her barely stifled laughter.
“Splendid!” Rowan begins, fully committing to his new identity as Bertram. “Uhh, in the last year, how many black lipsticks would you say you’ve purchased for yourself or others?”
Micah is making a strangled wheezing sound from the floor, and he’s as red as Killian’s plaid shirt.
“Uh… I dunno, maybe six?” Sadie offers.
“Excellent. And how would you rate your satisfaction with your current number of facial piercings?”
A long pause. “I mean, I have been thinking about getting a Monroe, but—”
I’ve been trying so hard not to laugh I’m lightheaded, but Micah is the one who finally breaks. The laugh he lets out sounds like someone wringing out a goose.
“Micah?” Sadie’s voice gets shrill through the speaker. “Wait, who is this? Did my dumbass brother put you up to this?”
“Sorry, Sadie,” Rowan groans.
“Hi, Sadie,” I say, waving before I remember she can’t see me.
“Next time I see you dorks, it’s on sight,” she says in a chilling tone. “I hope you like having your testicles hexed into snowballs.”
“Our mate’s a badass siphon. We’re not afraid of you,” Micah says, even though said badass mate looks a little afraid herself as she flashes him a death glare.
“Wait, Regina is there?” Sadie huffs.
“Sorry,” Regina says sheepishly. “We’re playing truth or dare and it kind of got out of hand.”
Sadie’s sigh crackles the speaker, but now she sounds like she thinks it’s at least a little bit funny. “I’ll let it slide this time, but keep your himbos in line or I’m turning someone into a frog.”
“Frog. Got it,” Regina says, struggling to keep a straight face.
Sadie hangs up and the room falls silent for a few seconds before we all start laughing. I’m not even sure who cracked first, but it feels like old times except better, because now, there’s Regina.
The game continues. Regina picks truth when the bottle lands on her and admits that she once accidentally set her sister’s hair on fire during an argument. Not even with magic, which is somehow more impressive.