“You’re a bitch.""Yeah, I’m thinking of having that put on some business cards.”

“Yeah.” I took another deep breath. “I’m gonna die, Emma.”“You mean eventually, right?” She blinked, and I could tell it hadn’t sunk in. “Please tell me you’re making some kind of big-picture philosophicalstatement about the inevitability of death and the transient nature of human existence.”“Not eventually, Em. Sometime on Thursday.”

“Alec rolled beautiful brown eyes. "No fair playing the death card." "No fair having it to play.”

“You bitch!"Why is it that whenever I draw blood, I'm a bitch?”

“Can I see it?" He blinked, still scowling, "See what?" "Your scar." His expression darkened like a sudden eclipse and I let my gaze grow cold. "You want to hear me scream? Give it your best shot. But until then, every time you take off your shirt, you may as well be handing out my business card. I shoved my blade deep inside you and loved every single inch of it. When I can't sleep at night, the memory of you screaming like a little bitch is my lullaby. And everybody knows exactly what that scar means- that you got your ass handed to you by a little girl. Again.”

“Fine.” I poured one more shot for her, then screwed the lid on the bottle. “But that’s it. I’m not putting my life in the hands of a bunch of drunks.”

“Um, Faythe?” Marc reached for my arm, and a small grin turned up one corner of his beautiful mouth. “As my first official piece of advice to the new Alpha, let me suggest that you put on some pants. And maybe a shirt.” His grin grew and pulled me closer to whisper in my ear, while Jace watched us stiffly from across the room. “While the look definitely works for me, I’m thinking the other Alphas might take you more seriously if you dress the part.”