Chapter 13 – Sean #2
Killian picks dare and ends up having to do twenty push-ups while Micah sits on his back. It wouldn’t have been a punishment if it was Regina.
I pick truth and confess that I framed a raccoon for that time all the pizzas meant for rush week mysteriously… disappeared.
“Dude, there wasn’t even a raccoon in the building,” Micah says. “Everyone knew it was you.”
“Seriously?” I groan. “I thought it was a good cover.”
By the time the bottle lands on Regina for her third turn, the mood has shifted significantly.
“Truth or dare?” I ask her.
She hesitates. “Dare.”
I grin wide. “Spin the bottle.”
She spins. It rotates, wobbles, and lands on Micah.
“Sweet,” Micah says, grinning. “Come here, pretty witch.”
Regina rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling as she crawls across the circle to where Micah’s sitting. He pulls her into his lap immediately, one hand cradling the back of her head, and the kiss that follows is definitely not a quick peck on the cheek.
“What in the name of all that is arcane have you done to my drawing room?”
We all freeze.
Villeneuve is standing in the doorway, glaring in disapproval at the makeshift nest we’ve unconsciously built around Regina on the floor. His suit is perfectly pressed as always, his expression somewhere between horrified and resigned.
Regina pulls back from Micah, cheeks flushed. “Professor.”
“Ms. Cook.” His gaze sweeps the room. The bottle. The glasses. Killian’s barely touched drink. “I leave for three hours and return to find my drawing room transformed into a den of debauchery.”
“This is where you draw?” I ask, surprised. “Never pegged you for the creative type.”
“It’s not…” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what a drawing room is.”
“Come play with us, Prof.” Micah pats the floor beside him, still grinning. Regina’s still in his lap, making no move to relocate. “Truth or dare.”
Villeneuve looks at the spot on the floor like Micah’s suggested he roll in mud.
“Yeah, Prof.” Killian’s voice is deceptively casual. He’s leaning back on his hands, watching Villeneuve with that focus I’ve only ever seen him use on people he wants to kill. “Have a seat.”
The invitation isn’t friendly.
The invitation is a fucking trap, and we all know it.
Villeneuve knows it too. I can see it in his eyes, weighing his options. He could refuse, which would definitely ignite another round of the chicken dance. Could retreat to his study and leave us to our “debauchery.”
But that would be backing down, and I get the sense that backing down isn’t something Villeneuve does.
“Very well.” He removes his jacket, folds it over the back of a chair neatly enough to make Rowan jealous, and lowers himself to the floor with a hell of a lot more grace than any of us managed. Dickass. “Though I reserve the right to veto any questions I find particularly inane.”
“That’s not how truth or dare works,” I point out.
“Truth or dare?” Killian asks.
Villeneuve meets his stare. “Truth.”
I lean forward. “I got one. How long have you been a dragon?”
Rowan groans. “That’s a stupid question.”
“What? It’s a valid question!”
“He’s immortal, Sean. The answer is probably ‘forever.’”
Villeneuve’s lips twitch. “Approximately eight hundred years, give or take a few decades. Time becomes somewhat fluid after the first century.”
“Eight hundred years,” I repeat. “Dude. You’re fucking old as shit.”
“Thank you for that observation, Mr. Brewer.”
“What? It’s a compliment, you don’t look it.”
We go another few rounds, but the mood has shifted. This lighthearted game has morphed into an interrogation, and we all know it.
“Truth or dare?” Killian asks the next time the bottle lands on Villeneuve.
“Truth.”
Killian’s jaw tightens. “How many people have you killed?”
The room goes very quiet.
Villeneuve holds Killian’s gaze without flinching. “Too many to count.”
We all stare at him. Even Regina’s eyes widen a little.
“Fucking badass,” I mutter under my breath.
Not quite under enough, judging from the way Killian glares at me.
Regina shifts in Micah’s lap. “Killian—”
“The rules are the rules,” Micah says quietly. “He asked. Villeneuve answered.”
The game continues, but it’s less playful now. Every time the bottle lands on Villeneuve—which is suspiciously often—Killian’s there with another question. Trying to find the cracks in that ancient armor.
After the sixth time, Villeneuve raises an eyebrow. “I’m beginning to suspect this bottle has been tampered with.”
“Don’t be a sore loser,” Killian sneers.
“I wasn’t aware one could lose truth or dare.”
“Depends on the questions, doesn’t it?”
Villeneuve’s dark eyes narrow. Challenge accepted.
The bottle spins again. Lands on Villeneuve. Again.
“Truth or dare?” Killian asks.
“Truth.”
Killian leans forward. His ice-blue eyes have that yellow flicker deep inside that I’ve been trying not to notice all night. “How long have you had feelings for my mate?”
The room goes still.
“Killian.” Regina’s voice is sharp.
“Those are the rules,” Micah says, though his voice is quieter now. “He picked truth. He has to answer.”
Villeneuve’s expression doesn’t change, but I can see the stiffness in his shoulders. His hands are still in his lap.
“And what if I choose dare instead?”
Everyone looks at me. Because apparently, I’m the authority on house rules now.
“You have to spin the bottle and kiss whoever it lands on,” I say, because those are the rules and I’m not about to change them just because things got weird. “But we could just go back to the old-fashioned version.”
Villeneuve’s gaze shifts to the bottle. Then to Regina. Then back to the bottle.
He reaches out and spins it.
Motherfucker.
The bottle rotates. Slow. Like it knows exactly what it’s doing. Then again, this asshole has telefrenetic powers or whatever it’s called.
Villeneuve doesn’t watch the bottle. He watches Regina. His dark eyes never leave her face as the bottle spins and spins and finally stops.
Pointing directly at her.
Of course it does.
This son of a bitch.
Regina’s frozen. I feel her through the bond. Not scared, which is the only reason I don’t smash the damn bottle over Villeneuve’s head.
She’s… curious. Her eyes are wide, her lips slightly parted, and she’s not moving. Not breathing.
Villeneuve rises to his feet like a fucking shadow. He crosses the space between them like he’s gliding instead of walking. He stops in front of where Regina’s still sitting in Micah’s lap, looking down at her with a blank expression that might as well be a mask.
Killian snarls.
The sound is low and vicious, not totally human. His eyes have gone fully yellow now, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He’s moving before I can think to stop him.
Villeneuve steps back.
Just one step. Smooth and calm. Like he planned this to get a reaction out of Killian all along.
“I think that’s enough play for tonight.” His voice is perfectly calm. Like nothing just happened. Like he didn’t just almost kiss our mate in front of all of us while our alpha was seconds away from ripping his throat out.
He straightens his cuffs and adjusts his collar.
“Ms. Cook.” His gaze flicks to Regina, who still hasn’t moved. “We have an early day tomorrow. I suggest you don’t stay up too late either.”
And then he’s gone. Walking out of the drawing room like he owns the place, which he does. He leaves the rest of us sitting on his expensive rug surrounded by empty glasses and a bottle that might actually be cursed.
Or at least rigged somehow.
Regina’s still frozen. Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing uneven. Through the bond, I feel her trying to process what just happened.
What almost happened.
And I think a part of her hoped it would happen.
“Bros,” I say, because someone has to break the tension. “I think Regina was actually gonna kiss Professor Stick.”
“No shit,” Rowan mutters.
“I was not.” Regina’s words come out too fast. “I was just… it was the rules. He spun the bottle. I was following the rules.”
“Uh huh.” Micah’s arms are still around her waist, but his grip has loosened. “That’s why you didn’t move when he walked over here?”
“I was surprised!”
“You were leaning in,” I point out, doing an impression of her face with her lips all pouty and flushed.
“I was not!”
She was. I saw it. She was going to let him kiss her.
The realization sits weird in my gut. Not jealousy, exactly. Not with the bond telling me she loves us, that she’s ours and we’re hers. But something has definitely changed between her and Villeneuve.
Should’ve stuck with fuckin’ Monopoly.