Page 52 of Feral

Colton.

“I’ve never known you to drink yourself into a fucking stupor.”

Boyd.

I blinked, tried not to have sharp spikes drill into my skull as I did so. My bed was soft. Warm. I didn’t want to move. I was pretty sure I’d been in it for twenty-four hours straight.

“I’m keeping away the moon madness,” I muttered. “And thoughts about Natalie. I mean, Willow. Whatever the fuck her name is.”

One of them kicked the bed.

My stomach flip flopped.

“You smell like the floor at Cody’s after closing.” Again, Colton.

“Are you still wearing the same clothes as at the picnic?” Fucking Boyd.

Groaning, I sat up facing the window. It was dark out. Definitely not time for them to be getting me out of bed. My foot kicked a whiskey bottle across the floor.

“Fuck off.”

My mouth tasted like something died, and I wasn’t sure if my head was going to stay attached to my body. After I’d called Kara’s mate’s pack and requested the guy’s presence here on Wolf land, I’d led her back to her dad and Tom and Janet. They’d left soon after, and I was sure she’d told them the plan for her mating by now.

I’d still do the mating ceremony if they wanted, but it wasn’t required for a true match.

After they left, I found the whiskey and drowned myself in it. My wolf had pushed me to go after Willow, but I refused to do it. The only way to get my wolf to stop and for me to forget was to get stumbling drunk.

“We did. For two days. Take a shower and get yourself together,” Colton said. “You need to eat some food.”

Two days. I’d accomplished my goal. But why they were having me surface now, I had no idea.

“Why?” I ran a hand through my hair absently, then over my jaw.

“We’re not talking to you like this. Shower. Shave that fucking beard,” Boyd ordered. “We’ve got some steaks on the grill.”

“Don’t boss me around. I’m the fucking alpha around here.”

“Oh yeah?” Colton asked, whacking me on the back of my head, making me groan. “Then act like it.”

“We give you ten minutes then we’re coming in after you,” Boyd said. “The last thing I want to do is see your junk, so you better fucking move.”

Fifteen minutes later—I refused to bow down to my younger brother—I grabbed a glass from the kitchen cabinet and filled it with water. I drank it in one long gulp. Only then did I turn and face my brothers. And Clint.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

Clint tossed a bottle of ibuprofen at me. I caught it with my free hand, then set my water down to get the lid open and take some. The shower had helped. I felt a little better with fresh clothes and the itchy start of a beard gone. My head still throbbed, and my stomach felt like it was made of battery acid. I couldn’t remember the last thing I ate.

“You did a good thing with Kara and her mate,” Clint said. He sat at the kitchen table, hands folded on the scarred surface. A plate piled with steak sat in the middle of the table, but it only made my stomach turn.

Colton must’ve understood because he went to the bread box and pulled out a roll. “Eat this.”

It had to be one of Marina’s since it had a golden exterior and a fancy twist in it, but it was plain. Thank fuck.

I gnawed off a chunk and chewed, hoping it would stay down. Shifters shouldn’t get hung over. I didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with me.

Oh yes, I did. I’d been drinking non-stop to keep from going after Willow and even a shifter’s metabolism and ability to heal couldn’t compete with constant guzzling of alcohol.

“He showed up yesterday. Kara’s mate,” Colton said. “Needless to say, they were mated by dark.”