She gives me a look that says she’s not buying my innocent act. “Please. You lived with four extremely hot alphas for weeks. Something happened. Spill.”
I take a long sip of wine, feeling the warmth spread through me. “Nothing happened,” I insist, but the heat rising in my cheeks gives me away.
“Liar,” she says, but there’s no judgment in her voice, only curiosity. “Was it Rett? I bet it was Rett. He has that whole brooding, dominant alpha vibe going on.”
The memory of Rett’s mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, his body pressing me against the SUV in the grocery store parking lot flashes through my mind. And then, more vividly, the memory of that night in my bedroom. His tongue between my thighs. His voice telling me exactly what he wanted: “Scream for me, Zoe.”
I take another, larger sip of wine.
“Oh my god, it was,” Leah says, her eyes widening. “You slept with Rett Sterling!”
“I didn’t say that,” I protest weakly.
“You didn’t have to. Your face is redder than this wine.” She leans forward, her expression a mixture of awe and disbelief. “What was it like? Is he as intense in bed as he seems? Did he, you know...” She makes a vague gesture that could mean anything.
“I am not discussing this with you,” I say firmly, but I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.
“Fine, keep your secrets,” she says, settling back into the couch. “But at least tell me if it was good.”
I think about that night, about the raw, unguarded look in Rett’s eyes as he moved above me. The way he watched me, as if memorizing every expression, every sound, every reaction.
“It was...” I pause, searching for the right word. “It was very good.”
Leah grins, raising her glass in a toast. “To good alpha sex,” she says. “May we all be so lucky.”
I clink my glass against hers, unable to stop the laugh that bubbles up. For a moment, the hollow ache in my chest eases, replaced by a warm, gentle fondness for this woman who has been my friend through thick and thin.
“So what’s the plan now?” she asks after we’ve both taken healthy sips. “Besides drinking this excellent wine and devouring ice cream?”
I shrug. “Go back to work. Get on with my life.”
“And the alphas?”
“What about them?”
“Are you going to wait for them to come to their senses, or are you going to move on completely?”
It’s the question I’ve been avoiding asking myself. The one that’s been lurking at the edges of my mind since I walked out of Sterling Tower.
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice small. “I just... I couldn’t stay there, being their living medicine. But I also can’t...”
“Can’t what?” she prompts gently when I trail off.
“Can’t stop thinking about them,” I whisper, the admission feeling like a defeat. “All of them. The way Diego looks at me when he thinks I’m not watching, like I’m some precious, fragile thing he’s afraid to break. The way Tristan makes me laugh, even when I’m determined to be angry with him. The way Dane just... knows, without me having to say anything.”
Leah watches me, her expression softening. “Oh, honey,” she says. “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
“Well,” she says, filling our glasses again, “we have wine and sugar and each other. That’s not nothing.”
She’s right. It’s not nothing. It’s friendship, and comfort, and the kind of unconditional support that has nothing to do with claiming marks or alpha commands or pack bonds.
But as we settle in for a night of drinking and eating ourfeelings, the marks on my neck continue to throb, harder than they’ve ever throbbed before.
“So,” Leah says, digging her spoon into a pint of mint chocolate chip, “on a scale of one to ‘ruined for all other men,’ how good was the sex?”
I throw a pillow at her, but I’m laughing as I do it. And for a moment, just a moment, the world feels a little less empty.
