Chapter Text
“Alright,” the server said as she flashed a wide grin to the eight people sitting at her table. “Let me repeat that back to you so I can make sure I’ve got everything straight.” She took a deep breath and rattled off the order. “That’s four steaks, all rare. Two with a baked potato as the side, one plain and one with sour cream, chives, cheddar, and bacon. One with steamed broccoli. And one with a side of capellini with marinara. One chicken parm over rigatoni with a salad, honey mustard dressing on the side. One haddock marsala with mashed potatoes, no gravy. And two margherita pizzas, one with crust infused with B+ type blood, the other one bloodless. Anything else?” It was only then the server paused to inhale.
David Shaw held out his hands to collect everyone’s menus to pass them to the server all at once. “I think you’ve got it all. Thank you.” He stretched his long arm across the table, his gold watch just peeking out of the sleeve of his crisp, black button down shirt.
“Wow, that was impressive!” Milo Greer complimented. “And you didn’t even write anything down.”
The server pointed to her head. “Telepathic perk,” she shrugged. “If I miss anything, I’ll just take a little peek in your heads.”
“But what if we’re not actively thinking about what we ordered? Babe asked curiously. “Can you still tell?”
“Well, I could go searching in your head. I definitely have that ability,” the server explained brightly, pleasantly surprised that an unempowered human would be able to consider such nuance within her culture. “But in this setting, that would be considered unlawful telepathic tampering, so I definitely don’t. Thankfully, I don’t need to go sifting through anyone’s thoughts here. Think about it. At a gala like this where the speeches and philanthropic talk happen before the meal is served?” she scoffed. “Trust me. Everyone’s thinking about their food.” The server tucked the stack of menus under her arm. “I’ll put in your orders into the kitchen right now and get a refill of bread out here for you all soon,” she promised as she briskly went off to do just that.
“Hell yeah!” Asher cheered quietly. “This bread is amazing. The inside is light and fluffy, yet the outside crust is dense with a perfect amount of crunch. I wonder if we can sneak a basket out to take home with us,” he said to his mate.
“You’ve eaten a loaf and a half all by yourself,” David admonished. “Not to mention, you’ve got a whole steak and a baked potato topped with cheese and more meat on the way.”
“Chives are vegetables,” Asher defended, sticking his knife into the butter. “Don’t short change me.”
“Oh, my humble apologies.” David flipped his palm up and gave Asher a small bow. “Begging your pardon. Chives are well-known for their nutrient density.”
“Sure, sure. Apology accepted. Just don’t let it happen again, Big Guy.” Asher spread a generous layer of butter onto his bread. “Not to mention, garlic is technically a vegetable, too. Meaning that garlic butter must be a good source of vegetables. This?” He held up the bread for everyone to see before taking a large bite. “Practically a salad.”
“It must be nice to live inside the world Asher imagines, don’t you think?” said Milo. “A world without logic. A world where words mean anything you want to. A world completely independent of reality.”
“Oh, it’d be quite the utopia,” David answered wryly.
Sweetheart grinned. "I wouldn't mind taking a vacation there sometime. Sounds like it could be fun to spend a week in Asherland."
“Garlic!” Angel burst, pointing to their own plate, empty except for a few crumbs. “That’s what makes this butter taste so good. I've been trying to figure it out for the last fifteen minutes. But, if there’s garlic in the butter, does that mean…?” they trailed off, searching for how to best phrase the question that was on the tip of their tongue. "Can vampires…?"
Sam didn’t take even the slightest bit of offense. “That’s a silly little myth,” he responded without a trace of malice or resentment. "Garlic don't have any sort of effect on vampires. It's a good thing, too. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to order that pizza."
He knew that as an unempowered human, Angel had grown up with a variety of incorrect presumptions about supernatural creatures, many of which were about vampires. As asinine as the idea of garlic repelling vampires for some reason seemed to Sam, he didn't fault Angel for holding that deeply ingrained belief. If anything, he gave Angel, and for that matter, Babe, credit for opening themselves up to the empowered world, even if doing so meant they'd have to reevaluate their own sense of reality. In some ways, that was a task Sam had experienced after his turning. He had shifted his perspective out of necessity. That was hard enough. Sam couldn't imagine the bravery these unempowered humans showed every day they choose to open themselves up to a new, unfamiliar reality. It was a testament to how much they loved David and Asher.
"Oh, that's good to hear," Angel smiled. "Pizza without garlic isn't real pizza."
Sam let his fingers lightly comb through his stubble. "You are one-hundred percent right."
Asher quickly seized that thread of conversation. "Not so fast. What about breakfast pizza?"
"Their point stands," Milo defended. "Breakfast pizza isn't real pizza. It's just in the shape of a pizza. I don't know what it is and I'll admit it tastes good, but no self-respecting pizza would be caught dead with egg on it."
"Pizza purist," Asher accused Milo.
After all that talk of butter, garlic, and pizza, David couldn't ignore his empty stomach any longer. “I better take a slice of bread when I've still got the chance. Who knows how long it'll take for the server to give us a refill? The staff is already busy enough at this event." Even though he normally avoided bread before a meal so as not to fill up on empty calories, David begrudgingly reached for a slice. He was amazed to see Asher do the same. "How much more bread can you eat without completely spoiling your dinner?”
“That’s an excellent question,” Darling quipped, unphased by their alpha’s signature brusqueness. “Any predictions as to how many pieces Asher eats before the food comes? Maybe we should get a pool going. Y’know, for science.”
Asher clicked his tongue. “Science doesn’t have anything to do with it. This is an art. I’m trying to get the most bang for my buck.” He lowered his voice. “These tickets were not cheap, okay?” he reminded Darling. “So the more I eat, the better I make out.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, this ain’t some county-fair eatin’ contest,” Sam Collins admonished. “The tickets are expensive because we’re raising money for the Red Moon Association. They pay for transportin’, distributin’, and storin’ blood bag donations to vampires who live in predominantly unempowered areas. It takes a lot of work to move that much blood that frequently!” he insisted. Ever since his turning, William had opened up Sam’s eyes to the many inequities that the vampiric community faced. The more Sam learned about the plights of vampires, the deeper his desire to get involved in the charity his Clan King had founded. “Running the donation clinics, testin’ and typin’, deliverin’ the blood cross-country and keepin’ it frozen,” Sam listed passionately. “Not to mention the ads it takes to get the word out to get enough donors, recruit volunteer warders to help with transporting under covert, and the logistical nightmare of keeping all the records. I assure you, Ash, every last cent of your ticket went to RMA operations. This party?" He opened his arms to gesture at the gala event. "This is all more of a thank-you from William. He wants to show his appreciation for your support of the broader vampire community."
Angel whistled. "William paid for all of this? Out of his own pocket?"
Sam nodded.
"That's a lot of appreciation," they noted in awe. "And pretty deep pockets."
"We're happy to have the chance to support the Red Moon Association," David interjected. "It's a wonderful cause, Sam. You and William do good work through the RMA.”
Sam shrunk a bit at the compliment. “Well, it ain’t just the two of us. Like I said, the volunteers are the, excuse the expression, lifeblood of the RMA.”
“David’s one hundred percent right,” Sweetheart interjected. “The RMA is one of the most impactful charities that serves the vampiric community. I was so glad to hear that the Department began collaborating with them to help streamline outreach efforts. Hearing you talk about all the services you offer makes me feel guilty that my ticket was half-price.” They turned to Milo, adjusting the collar of his bright, neon-blue dress shirt.
“Half-price? How come? Is it because of your job at D.U.M.P.?” Babe wondered. Babe’s curiosity was a quality that served them well when it came to their work and management style, but in social situations, they knew could be easily misconstrued as nosy or judgmental. Babe struggled to temper their enthusiasm, but they always tried to make sure they did so that people felt comfortable around them. “If you don’t mind my asking. Not that it’s any of my business.”
“Nah, we’re pack. It’s absolutely your business,” Sweetheart assured them, knowing full well that Babe had a tendency to worry about asking too many questions. “Being a D.U.M.P employee has never and probably will never get me any discounts,” they laughed. “I’m a regular blood donor,” the stealth explained. “William offers a discounted ticket price for donors as a thank you for contributing directly to the vampiric community. And to encourage people to keep rolling up their sleeves.”
“We appreciate your willingness to donate,” Sam grinned. “Don’t go fretting about that discount. You more than earned it every time you made the choice to give your blood so that vampires can survive.”
“Still,” Sweetheart shrugged. “I think later I’ll buy some more raffle tickets to make up for it.”
“I do love a good raffle,” Milo slyly agreed, bringing his hand to cover Sweetheart’s. “What do you say we go in on those tickets together?” He fished his money clip from his dress pants pocket and offered it to Sweetheart.
“Put that away,” Sweetheart chided, pushing away Milo’s money clip. “I’ll cover us tonight,” they declared. “But don’t worry. I promise if I win, I’ll split the prize with you. Please, Love, do not let me forget to buy the tickets later.”
Milo shifted his weight so he could place the money clip back into his pocket. “You can count on me, Sweetheart.”
"On behalf of the RMA, thank you for your generosity," Sam acknowledged. "Obviously I can't put in anything for the raffle since it'd look fixed if I ever won.” Between my association with the RMA, and the fact that I’m William’s once-removed progeny, I’ve had to forfeit my chances.”
“‘Once-removed progeny,’” Milo curiously echoed. “So if William is your clan’s king, and you’re the progeny of William's progeny, what does that make you?”
“Duke?” Angel guessed. “Viscount? Earl?”
“More like court jester,” Sam supplied. “William’s not one to care much about titles or bloodlines, thankfully. That kinda stuff can just get to be so silly and antiquated. But he is one to make sure that he could never be accused of nepotism or favoritism among his clan. That’s why I agreed to forgo any raffle ticketing, as did all of us who do work for the RMA during the year. Don’t get me wrong, though. If I could buy tickets, I certainly would. William let Vincent pick out the prizes this year. True to his flashy form, he really went all out."
“What’s the prize?” Asher asked as he added more garlic butter to his bread.
“An ultra-luxury all-expenses-paid stay at one of those big fancy spa resorts,” Babe supplied. “Everything is included for the week. Travel, lodging, gourmet food, massage services, every amenity you can possibly think of. Doesn't that sound incredible?" Babe squealed. "And the runner-up is a huge basket full of gift cards to all different businesses around Dahlia. Empowered and unempowered. You can go check out all the businesses at the raffle table.” Babe twisted their back and pointed across the room. "Max's Rustic Pizza, the Trance Bureau, Gary's Shifter Grooming Salon, that paintball place in Greenway we've always said we want to try," they listed. "The Psychokinetic Cleaning Company, the Steakhouse, and more!"
“Hmm. The grand prize sounds cool, but I don't know how crazy I am about the idea of being waited on hand and foot like that for a whole week." Asher scrunched his face and shuddered lightly. "But think about it. Winning all those gift cards would be incredible! Honestly, I think I’d rather win those,” the beta said between mouthfuls. “Can you put in tickets just for that prize?”
“Vincent is the one selling the tickets at the table. You could ask him. He’ll know,” Darling suggested. “You should hope that you can go for the gift card basket.” They turned to Milo and Sweetheart. “You, too, if you want a chance of winning anything.” Darling crossed their arms over their chest. “Because that spa trip has our names on it.” They pointed to themselves and Sam with their outstretched thumb. “I can feel it. We’re going to win,” Darling predicted excitedly. The way their smile sparkled in the soft light set Sam’s heart ablaze. “Tonight is going to be our night.”
Angel wagged their finger at the pair. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” They reached under their velvet-covered chair and produced a long string of raffle tickets. “But it's cute you think you've got a shot.” The chain of tickets dipped and swayed in the air as they wiggled their wrist. “Because I’m not letting the prospect of being pampered for a week slip through my fingers.” They leaned over to their side, angling their body closer to David. “Tonight is our lucky night.”
David smirked as he watched his mate beam at the idea of winning the luxury vacation. He looked at them, enamored as their whole face lit up with their sparkling smile. David felt his breath catch in his throat as he thought about how this amazing person had chosen to accept him and his pack in their life. It was something for which he’d be eternally grateful. David sat back into his chair and took in the joyful scene of his pack and mate talking and laughing played out before him. To be honest, when Sam had mentioned he was selling tickets to the event, David had considered buying a few tickets as a gesture of good graces and planning on making a quick appearance, if he had the social wherewithal to attend at all. It had been Angel who pointed out that attending the gala in good faith would be a much more consequential statement of community and support between the Shaw Pack and the Solaire Clan, not to mention how attending the gala would put emphatically align the Shaw Pack as a group who supports the empowered community at large. Even more than that, Angel encouraged Sam to spread the word amongst the pack, which only helped strengthen those ties between the Shaws and Solaires. A number of wolves ended up purchasing tickets, and, much to David’s (private) excitement, his very best friends were among those who had decided to join the cause.
As alpha, David was always seeking out opportunities to build a good name for his pack and its allies. That was nothing new or unexpected. For David to see how Angel, too, always had the pack’s success in their mind was something he never realized could be so meaningful to him. No matter how close he grew to Angel, they never ceased to amaze David with their thoughtfulness and positivity that they shared with anyone who had the pleasure of being a part of Angel’s life.
“-vid?” Darling’s voice interrupted David’s inner monologue.
He pulled his eyes away from Angel and wiped what he feared was a goofy smile off of his face. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” he answered. “What did you say?”
“I said, how can you let your mate go on and on about ‘luck’ like that?” They slapped their hand on the table as they spoke, causing the silverware to rebound into the air and everyone’s glasses to wobble a bit unsteadily. “Sorry.” The wolf shrugged a little sheepishly and carefully placed their hands back into their lap. “C’mon, David. For real, you are the guy who has denied luck even existed since he was old enough to spell the word. You’re the guy who petitioned his English teacher for a different essay prompt that didn't use the word 'fate' in the tenth grade. Who refuses to wish anyone luck with anything. And don't forget about the time you almost made poor little Deena cry when she proudly showed you that four-leaf clover she found and you told her it wouldn’t give her good luck."
David's eyelid twitched in embarrassment as he remembered that moment he inadvertently made six-year-old Deena cry at the first pack picnic he attended as his father's beta. "I admit that was not my best moment. Kids are enigmas, okay? Thankfully, she didn't hold it against me."
"Deena has always been a sweet kid," Darling afforded. "But seriously. You’re telling me you’re gonna sit there and nod along when your mate claims that they're going to win a raffle because they feel lucky?" Darling scoffed. "Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable."
“What’s so hard to believe?” Asher giggled as Darling teased their alpha with an ease that he hadn’t ever remembered seeing them feel before, even as kids. “David’s a lovesick idiot for his mate. End of story.”
With striking accuracy, David’s foot found Asher’s knee under the table. His upper body didn’t flinch. If it weren’t for Asher’s sharp breath and groan of pain, no one would even notice that David had kicked his beta to shut him up.
Stifling a laugh, Milo turned his face into Sweetheart and snickered in their ear, “I’d say that was a ‘lucky shot,’ but I don’t want to risk my own kneecaps.”
“I take it back, I take it back!” Asher cried, rubbing circles into his knee and wondering if he would be sporting a bruise the next day. “Killjoy.”
“I’m not a killjoy and I’m not a lovesick idiot,” David defended hotly, drumming his fingertips onto the table. Truth be told, the only reason why David felt comfortable indulging in a little bit of grumbly indignance was that David knew no one was going to misinterpret his reaction to Asher’s joke as anything other than light-hearted, friendly banter. He appreciated how his pack was beginning to see all sides of him, not just the ‘alpha’ side. That shift in perception, no doubt a result of Angel’s support, allowed David to feel more secure in himself. After having denied himself the ability to enjoy spending time with his family for so long, David was eternally grateful that Angel had helped him to figure out how he could reintegrate himself into his pack as both a trusted friend and a worthy alpha. “While the terminology that my mate uses is not ideal, their overall point still stands.”
Sam’s brow furrowed. “And what point is that exactly?”
“That they are more likely to win the getaway.” He gave Angel a soft wink. “Obviously, luck has nothing to do with it. What we’re talking about here is probability. In a raffle, the more tickets you have in the game, the more likely it is that one of your tickets will be chosen as the winner.” David pointed to the long string of tickets that Angel was busily folding to keep them all together. “Ergo… My mate is significantly more likely to be holding the winning ticket. And, for the record…” He took a sip of his unsweetened iced tea, the ice cubes gently clinking together. “We don’t plan on sharing.”
“Damn straight we don’t!” Angel beamed, raising their hand for a high five.
To no one’s surprise, David was quick to reciprocate the high five. Before anyone could comment on that, David threw the whole table a hard glare, letting his lip curl just enough to show a bit of his teeth. Even his human form, David’s expression was intimidating enough to send a shiver down everyone’s spines.
Nonetheless, Darling wasn’t one to back down when they knew they were right. “It’s not luck, it’s probability,” they said, complete with air quotes and an overly deep voice that resembled his tone like a caricature resembled a model. “That’s bullshit semantics and you know it,” the wolf sneered.
“Hang on a minute. I wouldn’t say that,” Sweetheart interjected. “I mean, David is right to say that statistically speaking, his mate does have quite an advantage to win.” They took a sip of their diet ginger ale. “Whether or not he calls it ‘luck’ seems irrelevant; the result is the same.”
David raised his glass to Sweetheart before he drank from it. “Well put.”
Darling rolled their eyes. “Oh, please.” Sarcasm simply dripped from their words. “Big surprise that you two agree on something.” They clutched at their chest. “Sam, you better get your healing magic revved up and ready. I don’t know if my heart can take this sudden, unexpected shock.” With a gasp, Darling pitched forward into Sam’s chest. They made sure not to let the contentment that washed over them as they felt their head sink into Sam’s body show to anyone else. A scowl crossed Sam’s face like he was fed up with Darling’s antics, but the wolf was not fooled by their mate’s expression. Whereas Sam's face might’ve lacked a smile, Darling could feel how Sam gripped them loosely, just enough to ensure that they stayed close to him for an extra beat before they straightened their posture and set their elbows on the table.
Milo looked hungrily at the center of the table, a silent plea for someone to pass him the bread. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Got it.” Babe deftly reached over to snatch the plate of bread away from Asher before he could nab the last two pieces. “Here you go, Milo,” they smiled. “Also, not to be Captain Obvious or anything, but you have to have noticed by now that our favorite sneaky stealth and abrasive alpha are basically two grumpy peas in a pod, right?”
Milo nearly choked on the bread as he heard Babe make that claim so matter-of-factly, as if everyone but him noticed the similarities between Sweetheart and David.
“We are not two grumpy peas!” both David and Sweetheart protested with the exact same intonation and pacing.
Babe gave Milo a knowing look. “See what I mean?” they asked smugly. "They're twin besties."
“Whoa,” Milo mumbled, his chocolate eyes widening at the realization.
“It’s true,” Angel added, pointing to David and then to Sweetheart. “I’ve never met two people who share no blood or genes act and sound so similar to each other. Not only that, but I swear, sometimes it’s like they share the same brain cell. Think about it, Milo,” implored Angel. “It's like they formed an alliance of gruffness with each other.”
“Now that you mention it, it’s uncanny!” Sam gasped. “Same workaholism. Same proud gait when they walk. Same serious attitude. Same hard heads,” he listed. “And as a side note, I heard and appreciate those alliterative nicknames,” he told Babe. “Very clever.”
“I aim to please,” Babe smiled.
“Wordplay is one of their many areas of expertise,” Asher complimented. “My Babe is so talented.”
“And they show off that talent at our expense, apparently,” Sweetheart sighed, sharing a look with David. “I guess we shouldn’t be surprised the pack would gang up on us like this, David,” Sweetheart said. “Clearly, their lashing out is a manifestation of their undying admiration of us.”
“That must be it,” David agreed. “Or perhaps, there is some jealousy mixed in with that admiration.”
“Ahh, yes.” Sweetheart wagged their finger at David. “Excellent point. Well, who could blame them for feeling jealous? After all, we’re pretty great.”
David raised his glass of iced tea. “I’ll drink to that.”
Sweetheart reached past Milo to click their glass with David’s. “Cheers!”
"Same vanity," Sam noted in a whisper to his mate.
“Tweedle-Bitch and Tweedle-Bitchier,” Darling said through a fake cough.
“Which one do you think I am?” Sweetheart wondered. They took the small pendant that hung off of the chain around their neck and idly moved it from side to side, something Milo noticed they often did while they slogged through paperwork.
Milo shook his head. “That is a trick question if I ever heard it. Is that how you interrogate a perp?” He whistled. “Well, not me, Sweetheart. I know all the tricks you keep up those sleeves of yours.” Milo unceremoniously shoved more bread into his mouth and chewed faster so Sweetheart would drop their questioning.
“I don’t have to wonder in the slightest,” Angel declared. “David is definitely Tweedle-Bitchier.”
“Ruthless!” Asher jeered from the other side of the table. He clapped his hands together. “Simply ruthless, Mini-Alpha. I love it!”
“Watch it, Ash,” Sweetheart warned. “You mess with Tweedle-Bitchier, you mess with me.” They pointed to their eyes with their two fingers and then to Asher, flickering into invisibility as they did so to add weight to their playful threat.
“Well, I guess we’re all in agreement as to which label I earned,” David relented, plucking a piece of uneaten bread off of Angel’s plate. “I suppose if the shoe fits, I’d better wear it with pride. Besides, if it means I fall under the protection of one of the Department’s finest, most decorated detectives, then I certainly have no complaints.”
“Aww, David!” Sweetheart felt their face warm in the face of David’s compliments. “Thanks. You know I’ve always got my fellow grumpy pea’s back.”
“Ugh!” burst Darling. “Your undying loyalty to each other is both endearing as all hell and sickening.”
“Well, it’s undying loyalty now,” Babe remarked. “But it wasn’t always like that.”
Darling’s jaw dropped. “No shit? Really?”
Angel, too, sported the same surprised expression as the shifter sitting across from them. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” They twisted their head to face their mate. “Davey? What do they mean?”
Both David and Sweetheart dropped their gazes to the floor and grew uncharacteristically quiet.
“No, it’s true,” Asher confirmed. “I remember. It was before you had the great pleasure of meeting any of us, Mini-Alpha,” he clarified. “Otherwise known as the Shaw Pack Dark Ages.”
“Well, that might be a slight exaggeration,” Milo conceded of Asher’s claim. “But not as much as Ash usually does. It was kind of a rough time for all of us in one way or another," he explained. "And for whatever reason, these two constantly butt heads over every little thing. It was like David and my mate were always at each other's throats, one second away from a knock-down, drag-out fight to the death.
Asher snickered. "As appealing as they might sound, it really wasn't. Especially for you, Milo. I don't know where you found the patience to deal with that, but I'm sure glad you did."
"We all are," Sweetheart said softly.
David's hand fumbled a bit before it rested on Angel's thigh under the table. "Yeah, Milo. It was not my finest moment."
"Me neither," Sweetheart confessed.
"Eh, don't worry about it," Milo waved off. "That's ancient history. Water under the bridge."
“I’ll be damned,” Sam drawled, scratching at his beard. “You're serious. It was really that bad?”
“That I am,” Babe replied. "And that it was." They brought their glass of merlot to their lips. "So, did everyone hear that the empty building in our block was finally sold? Rumor has it a bagel cafe is going to open up. Wouldn't that be great?"
“Don't even try to distract me with bagels!" Darling chastised. "You can’t just drop a bomb like that and then clam up! If you two hated each other so much–"
"We didn't hate each other," Sweetheart corrected. "We didn't." They shared another, almost apologetic look with David. "Even if it might've seemed like it. We just both had the wrong impression of each other and were too blind to see that."
David smiled ruefully. "That's exactly right."
"Then, if that was the case, what changed?" Darling queried. "What could possibly make not one, but two, stubborn, stuck-in-their ways, well-meaning jerks like you both change your minds?" They turned to Babe. "Enlighten us, Beta-Babe!"
"Yeah!" said Angel. They rapidly tapped their finger onto the table. "Give us the details, and don't leave anything out.”
Sam nodded along. "I gotta say, as someone who also hasn't heard this story before, my curiosity has certainly been piqued."
Babe pushed their mouth to the side. "I understand that completely," they said with sympathy. "But it's not my story to tell." They shot Sweetheart an expectant look to encourage them to speak up, presuming they would break before David ever would.
"No fair," Darling pouted. "Asher," they grinned sweetly, fluttering their eyelids. "You must be itching to tell us. C'mon, spill!"
"Ooh, no can do," Asher politely refused. "I may be a shameless gossip, but I'm a shameless gossip who supports his alpha no matter what. My mate's right. It's not up to me."
"Figures you'd fall back on the beta thing," Darling muttered. "Well, that only leaves you and you," they said to David and Sweetheart. "I mean, I don't think you have much of a choice. Once I fixate on something, you know I don't let up until I've got it." They bared their teeth. “The slightest scent is all I need to hunt.”
Sam smothered a sly smile at Darling's comment, not wanting to let on how just a glimpse of Darling’s sass left him warmly flustered.
“Not to mention I’m the exact same way,” Angel proclaimed. “Evidently, you’re not the only set of twins sitting at this table. Can you imagine what would happen if we joined forces?” They cackled, rubbing their palms together. “I don’t care how invisible and intangible you can go. We’ll find out what we want to know.”
“That all sounds like a very inconvenient experience.” Sweetheart’s gaze flickered over to David.
“Agreed,” the alpha sighed. “But knowing both of them, I don’t doubt a word of what they’re saying.” He gave a small, exasperated sigh. “So, what do you say?”
“Seems like our only option,” Sweetheart verified. “We had a good run, going this long without having to divulge our secrets.”
“And it’s definitely gonna be awhile before our food comes,” Sam noted nonchalantly. “A little reminiscing might make the time pass a little faster.”
“See? Don’t Sam and I fit so well together? He’s as curious as I am,” Darling gleamed. “Just more polite about it.”
Sweetheart’s nose crinkled. “Evidently.”
"Fine," David relented dramatically. "Fine! But no interrupting, okay?"
“Sweet!” Asher excitedly leaned forward, pumping his fist victoriously. “Story time!”