“It’s hard to believe someone as pathetic as you is over a century old.”
His tail wagged faster. “If you don’t take at least one sip, I’ll do my Andy Dick impression every time we have sex.”
“Bring me a goddamn beer,” I demanded, to which Austin replied with a salute before disappearing into the garage. “One sip, and then it’s going down the drain.”
Roscoe knew I didn’t really like beer, so I was kind of confused as to what he hoped to accomplish with this. Drinking foamy homemade bread-water wasn’t exactly going to change my mind.
Austin returned holding a recycled brown bottle with a faded label.
“You did wash these, right?”
“Of course I did. I’m not gross like Roscoe. I didn’t get these from the dumpster,” Austin said with a snarl, pushing the bottle into my hand.
“I ain’t dumpster-dove since I left the city, but I bet they throw away a lot of cool shit around here.”
“Don’t bring any garbage into this house,” I said, holding the bottle to my lips. The flavor was unexpected—like beer, but with an interesting aftertaste.
Roscoe smirked as I took another, larger gulp.
The beer became a malted chocolate with a hint of heat, like either ginger or cayenne pepper.
“What the hell is this?”
“It’s beer,” Austin replied, matter-of-factly.
“No, I mean, what did you put in it?”
“It’s a secret.”
I gulped down more of it.
“You wouldn’t want to know, anyway,” he added.
I stopped mid-swallow and slowly spat back into the bottle. “Okay, now I want to know what the fuck I just ingested.”
“Nope.” Austin turned and walked back into the garage.
“So?” Roscoe asked, his expression more eager than before. “What do you think?”
“It’s good, but—”
“Then let’s take some bottles out in the woods, have a little fun and see if we come across any ferals to trade with.”
“This is a stupid idea.”
“Without that lighter, Mussolini ain’t gonna know nothin’.”
Austin ambled back through the dining room holding an entire box of beer, but I grabbed his arm. “I changed my mind. Don’t dump those.”
Though he didn’t smile, the werewolf’s eyes lit up, and his tail wagged.
“All right,” he replied, setting the box on the table before taking a bottle out for himself. I snatched it out of his hand before he could open it.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said, placing the bottle back into the box.
Chapter 19
A Feral High
