“So happy that you are here and they are there waiting for you?”
“They aren’t fucking waiting,” I snarl, shaking my head as I massage my temples.
“If they weren’t waiting, why did Jonah ask you about sleeping with her, knowing she was our mate? Why would they both ask you to stay?” Kaif breathes, shaking his head at me.
“Whatever,” I sigh in dismissal when he forces control of my drunken body, making me stand up; I face-plant the moment he stands me up.
“Should have done that slower,” Kaif laughs as I shake my head, getting on my hands and knees. The glass bottle in my hand shatters as I land on top of it. I look down at my ruined shirt and growl.
“Stop crying over wrinkled shirts and spilled whiskey. You already look like shit, so you can’t look much worse,” Kaif growls, forcing me to my feet again. I stagger to the door, snatching my keys.
“You can’t drive. We have to walk. You’re drunk,” Kaif snarls at me, shaking my hand out until I drop them, and I growl at him.
“If you can bend down and get them without falling on your face, you can have them!” Kaif taunts, knowing full well I will face-plant the ground again.
“I am not walking there!” I snarl.
“Then call Jonah to come to get you,” Kaif retorts, shaking my head. I clutch it with my hands. His quick movements are going to make me puke.
“Damn weakling, learn to hold your liquor. Back in my day, our piss was more intoxicating than that prissy crap you’ve been drinking,” Kaif growls, forcing control of my hands as he reaches into my pocket.
“Back in your day, you wiped your ass with gum leaves and thought the world was flat,” I deadpan. He shakes his head at me, well my head, because he has control still. His fingers fumble with the phone for a few seconds before he manages to call Jonah.
“You should text first; he could be asleep. It’s late now!” I snap.
“I don’t text; I don’t know how to use this stupid device! Though they are handy and far faster than sending a letter in the mail or by pigeon,” Kaif retorts before a sleepy Jonah answers the call.
“Hey, Kyan? Is everything ok?” he yawns into the phone before Kaif’s voice spills from my lips, and I feel Jonah’s shock through the bond.
“You need to come and pick his drunk ass up and take him home,” Kaif orders him.
“Ah, okay, where is he?” Jonah yawns again, but I can hear him getting up and moving about.
“At home,” Kaif answers in reply.
“Give me twenty minutes, and I will be there. Do you want me to wake Mara and we stay there, or am I bringing him here?” Jonah asks Kaif.
“Pick him up, us up. Let Mara sleep. I don’t want to wake her.”
“Yep, be there in twenty, walking out the door now,” Jonah replies, and Kaif hangs up before abruptly giving me control. The moment he does, I fall on my ass with a grunt.
“Ha, I got my keys,” I chuckle, only for the keys to go flying the moment I grip them as Kaif takes control, tossing them over my shoulder.
“Nope, you don’t,” Kaif laughs, and I shake my head before using the hall stand to pull myself up and stagger to the kitchen in search of another bottle.
“What are you doing?” Kaif snarls as I grab another from the shelf.
“If I have to listen to your life lesson crap and whatever shit you’re spouting about, I would rather be drunk off my face,” I tell him.
“You already are drunk!” Kaif yells at me as I unscrew the cap.
“Ah, don’t yell. You hurt my brain,” I tell him.
“That would imply you have one. You either don’t or don’t know how to use it from my standpoint. But fine, you want to make a fool of yourself. Go for it,” I mimic Kaif’s words back to him while falling into the wooden chair and sitting on the dining table chair, only to miss it and end up on the floor. Tipping whiskey on my shirt.
“Oh, what’s wrong, Kyan? OCD kicking in, that is a terrible stain, oh no it’s an atrocious stain,” Kaif taunts.
“Shut up,” I tell him while trying to wipe it, only spilling more on my pants.
“Oh my gosh, what would the neighbors think if they saw you like this?” Kaif continues to taunt me.
“Good thing we don’t have neighbors then!” I tell him.
“Is that a wrinkle?” Kaif asks, and I snarl at him but can’t help looking for the wrinkle he speaks of. There are lots of creases. My clothes are ruined and seeing them heightens my anxiety.
“What’s wrong? Can’t walk to your room to get changed?” Kaif mocks.
“No, but you can,” I mutter.
“Not a chance. If you’re drinking, I am going on strike!”
“You can’t go on strike. We are the same person, idiot. What will people think of seeing us like this?” I snap.
“I don’t care what anyone thinks. I used to wipe my ass on gum leaves apparently and thought the world was flat. Clearly, that means I don’t think at all!” I growl at him. “My oh my, haven’t you found yourself in a pickle,” Kaif laughs.
Jonah
By the time I get to Kyan, I feel woozy from his drinking. I pull up out the front expecting him to be waiting outside, only he isn’t. I try ringing him, but when he doesn’t answer, I get out and unlock the door with the spare key.
“Kyan?” I call out, but get no answer as I step into the foyer. All the lights are off when I hear garbled talking coming from the kitchen.
I walk over and push the door open to find Kyan sprawled out on the floor, talking aloud to Kaif. I chuckle and walk over to him and stand above him. Kyan lifts the bottle he is clutching before it bangs to the floor with his clumsiness as I peer down at him.
“My shirt has creases,” he slurs. I look him over and shake my head in amusement. It is rare to catch Kyan this vulnerable, rare at all for him to allow himself in such a state where I can see his vulnerability.
“Yes, it does,” I laugh while bending down and grabbing his shoulders. I pull him to sit up.
“Kaif is being an asshole,” he slurs, and his eyes flicker to Kaif’s briefly, making me smile.
“Come on, let’s get you home. Why have you been ignoring my calls all day?” I ask him. He mumbles about not wanting to disturb us while I try to haul him to his feet.
“A little help, Kaif, would be great,” I groan, taking his weight. I feel Kaif’s presence as he moves to help me get him upright, and I toss his arm across my shoulder.
“You fucked my mate,” Kyan slurs his accusation.
“Our mate and I tried to call you all damn day. Marabella has also been trying to call you.”
“My shirt has creases; can you get me a blue one?” Kyan asks.
“Seriously, let me get you home first; I will get you tucked in bed where you should be.”
“It has creases, and I want a blue one,” Kyan mumbles, and I sigh. I place him on the dining table chair before prying the bottle from his grip and placing it in the sink.
“I will get you a shirt, stay,” I tell him, walking out and up to his room. Partway up the stairs, I hear a thud.
“Don’t think he stayed,” Jax chuckles in my head.
I click my tongue before pushing his door open. Everything is spotless, like the rest of the house. This entire floor stinks heavily of bleach. I move to his closet and find him some clothes and grab his pajama pants and a tank top for home.
“Blue shirt!” Jax reminds me, and I groan, seeing I grabbed his usual black. Going back to his closet, I find a light blue button up and toss it over my arm.