Page 21 of Taken By The Wolves

Her laugh is bright and genuine, and she sets her glass onto the polished wood with dramatic care. “Why do I feel like this is a trap?”

“It’s not a trap,” I lie. “It’s a bonding exercise. You share, we share. Next thing you know, we’re best friends. Or better.”

Nixon, who’s nursing a beer in the corner like it personally insulted him, clears his throat and barks into my mindyou’re pushing it, Reed.

I ignore him. This is my lane.

“I don’t have much spice to share,” Scarlet says, her tone playful but with a thread of honesty woven through. “Unless disappointing sex and trust issues count as kinks.”

I raise a brow. “Only in sad town.”

She snorts. “Then I’m the queen of kinks.”

Finn winces from the kitchen where he’s cleaning up. “That sounds bleak.”

Scarlet shrugs, swirling her wine again. “I dated a guy once who called himself an alpha in bed. Which basically meant he ordered me around, never made me come, and then told me I was lucky to have him.”

“Sounds like a winner,” I say.

“Oh yeah. Five stars. Would recommend to my worst enemy.”

She’s flushed now, tipsy and free talking, and Nixon’spractically radiating heat from the other side of the room. Not the sexy kind. TheI’m going to rip Reed’s tongue out with my teethkind.

I meet his eyes and grin.

I top off Scarlet’s glass again to keep the mood moving, and this time she lifts it like a toast, eyes sparkling with tipsy boldness.

“Careful,” I say, settling beside her on the arm of the couch. “Keep looking at me like that and you’re going to hurt my feelings when you don’t climb into my lap.”

“You have feelings?”

“Somewhere deep beneath the charm and perfectly sculpted biceps, yes.”

She laughs, and her shoulders drop a little more, tension leaking out of her like heat from a wound. We’re seeing what she’s like when there’s nothing to prove.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” she says, cocking a brow. “I still don’t trust you.”

“Fair,” I say. “But do youlikeme?”

A pause. Then she bites her lip, trying not to smile. “Unfortunately.”

Finn wanders in from the kitchen then, wiping his hands on a towel, and Nixon shifts in the corner. This is the moment.

Fuck it. This is how you get people to trust you. Not with rules and silence. With stories. By beinghuman.

Or, in our case, pretending to be.

“You guys ever play Truth or Dare?” Finn asks, surprisingly casual for someone who usually speaks like he’s rationing words.

Scarlet snorts. “What, like teenagers at a sleepover?”

“More like grown-ass adults with liquor andquestionable morals,” I say. “Our version’s better. Higher stakes. No dumb dares like licking doorknobs.”

Nixon makes a noise in his throat, the sound of a man realizing this is spiraling, but it’s too late to stop.

“Fine,” Scarlet says. “Hit me. Truth.”

I grin. “Most adventurous place you’ve had sex?”