Lilith’s POV
I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that the twins were absolutely untrustworthy. There was something about their smug, overly confident demeanor that crawled under my skin in ways nothing else ever had.
Why the hell did I agree to watch this neanderthal nonsense? I could’ve been napping! Hell, brushing my hair-or even flossing-would’ve been a more productive use of my time. But if I was going to endure this torture, I sure as hell wasn’t doing it alone.
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.*
I let out a heavy sigh, drained the rest of my water bottle, and prepared to get this over with. No way was I planning to go above and beyond for this assignment. The twins had already given their interview, and Sylas would likely tweak the article to his liking anyway, just to slap his name on it somewhere. Why should I do more than the bare minimum?
After a quick fix of my messy bun, I marched to the door and yanked it open. There stood Briar, dressed in dangerously short jean shorts and a tank top so thin it was practically translucent-no bra in sight. *Oh, great. Just the distraction I need.*
She looked hot as hell, while I was rocking an oversized Rolling Stones T-shirt (yes, the one with the tongue), leggings, zero makeup, and a half-assed messy bun. I wasn’t even pretending to try.
*Bullshit!* Rose, my inner voice, sneered. *You’re testing the waters. You want to see if the guys will look at her instead of you.*
“Hey, girl!” Briar greeted, her tone playful as she gave my arm a friendly smack. “Thanks for inviting me. I haven’t been to a practice in forever, but it always gets the juices flowing.”
“Thanks for coming,” I replied, shutting the door behind her. “I’ve got this totally lame article to write on the Ashfords, and I know jack shit about football.”
She hooked her arm through mine, and the warmth of her skin against mine sent an unwelcome rush of nostalgia through me. The scent of her perfume-*Estee Lauder, Beyond Paradise*-hit me like a freight train. God, I missed that smell. I missed *her.* What I wouldn’t give for just one more night lost in Briar’s paradise.
“Can you believe it’s all almost over?” she asked, her voice softening. “Kind of depressing, honestly. I thought I’d have found my mate by now, but nope. Looks like I’m going home single.”
But we both knew better. Briar thrived on being single, just like I did. She didn’t have a clear vision for her future-philosophy majors rarely did-but she wasn’t in any rush to figure it out.
As we walked to the stadium, I filled her in on Saturday’s charity auction, casually dropping hints that she should come. Maybe I even suggested she bid on me.
“Wait, wait,” she interrupted. “Are you talking about Elio Whittaker’s charity event? What’s it called again… *Waves?*”
“I think so? Dahlia’s dad is hosting it, so yeah, I guess.”
“Girl, the one last year was $500 a plate,” she said, her eyes wide. “Did you think the money came solely from the auction?”
“$500 a plate?” I repeated, practically choking. “How the hell did Dahlia fail to mention that part?”
Thank God I hadn’t called any of the numbers Caleb had given me yet. What if someone asked about the cost? I hadn’t even considered it. Rookie mistake.
*WHISTLE BLOWS.*
“All right, hustle up! Lift those knees!” a voice shouted from the field.
*Oh, look who it is,* Rose purred as my gaze landed on Caden. It was so much easier to tell the twins apart now.
*It’s because our body knooooows,* Rose teased in a singsong voice.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Briar. “I had no idea it was that expensive. That’s insane.”
“Yeah, last year’s event was just a Chinese auction-not dates. Can you imagine how much they might bid for you now? Especially if they’ve got that kind of money?” she teased, placing a hand on my leg and wiggling her eyebrows.
I couldn’t imagine anyone bidding serious money on me. A grand, maybe, at most. That would already be more than I’d spend on a charitable cause. Working for the paper wasn’t exactly a high-paying gig.
As Briar gushed about Caden’s skills on the field, I absentmindedly pulled out my phone and looked up Elio Whittaker’s net worth. $40 million. My jaw dropped. Out of morbid curiosity, I searched for Kieran and Ethan Ashford next. $180 million.
I quickly deleted my search history, pocketing my phone like it had burned me.
*You’d know all this if you actually read their interview,* Rose scolded.
“Caleb just winked at you,” Briar whispered, clutching my arm. “What the actual fuck? What aren’t you telling me? And don’t lie.”
Crap. Maybe it was time to tell someone. If I couldn’t trust Briar, who could I trust? She knew me better than anyone-sometimes a little too well.
Over the next hour, between whistles, grunts, and stolen glances from the field, I spilled everything. Briar listened with that trademark devilish smirk, her expression equal parts amused and intrigued.
“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” she admitted, a teasing edge to her tone. “The Ashford boys might have a reputation, but they’re selective. Not that I’ve tried too hard. Why chase the unattainable when you can have something great with half the effort?”
She nudged me with her elbow, her words lingering in the air like an unspoken dare.
I nodded, agreeing silently. I didn’t have to chase anyone. With Briar, it had been effortless-a single look shared during a boring art history lecture, where we practically undressed each other with our eyes.
There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to make me wonder what she was thinking. Then Briar spoke. “Wait, so you’ve known since Friday they’re the ones, and you *haven’t* had sexy time yet?”
The disbelief in her voice was almost comical. A million women would kill to be in my position-literally kill. If given the chance by the goddess, most of them would’ve stripped naked on the spot and offered themselves up on a silver platter.
But I wasn’t one of them. I liked my life, my goals, and the stability I’d built. Change? Change meant compromise, and compromising meant sacrificing everything I’d worked for.
*Are you seriously clinging to the idea that your life is still the same?* Rose, my ever-annoying inner voice, chimed in with a scoff. *Newsflash, it’s not. Everything about our world is different now, and if you don’t let me stretch my legs soon, I’ll show you just how different it is.*
I sighed, feeling the weight of her words.
“I can’t give them the satisfaction,” I muttered, more to myself than to Briar. “Maybe the goddess knew exactly what she was doing-pairing me with two stubborn pains in the ass who are probably too much like me. The problem is… everything about my world has to change, while they don’t have to sacrifice a damn thing. They get to keep their dreams. What about mine?”
My hands twisted nervously in the fabric of my shirt as I spoke. The frustration bubbling under my skin felt like it might spill over at any moment.
Briar reached over and placed her hand over mine. The warmth of the gesture made my throat tighten, and I had to blink back the threat of tears. Crying here, in the middle of a football field, wasn’t an option. Too many eyes.
“*Reporter loses more than her football virginity on the field,*” I muttered, trying to distract myself. “*Next up: Duff the singing hamster.*”
I watched one of the players slap Caleb on the ass, and my stomach twisted. There was no denying it-anyone here would fall at his feet if he so much as crooked a finger. People like that commanded power with ease, and I didn’t want any part of it. I wasn’t the type to wield power over others, and I damn sure wasn’t about to let anyone hold it over me.
Briar leaned in conspiratorially. “Hun, come on. You’re only hurting yourself here. You’re amazing in bed-I know that firsthand. I’m sure they’re just as good. Why not have some fun? Explore a little.”
Rose perked up at that, her tail flicking excitedly in my mind. *I like her idea,* she purred.
“Traitor,” I shot back, gritting my teeth as I fought to keep Rose from turning my head toward the twins.
“If I let myself become some trophy for the Ashford twins, I’ll puke,” I said firmly, my tone sharper than I intended. “It’s a dignity thing. I’m not just some hot body with female parts. I’m Lilith fucking Emory-a force to be reckoned with. A brilliant mind. I’m not a pushover, and I sure as hell won’t be some obedient mate who spends her days cleaning and has dinner on the table by six. I am *not* my mother.”
The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered.
Briar studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she leaned back, resting her head in her hand as she stared out at the field. I stayed silent, hoping she’d understand where I was coming from. If anyone could, it was her.
“Did you know I’m one of eight kids?” she said suddenly, her voice softer than usual. “Eight fucking kids. I used to think my mom was insane. But one day, she told me how much joy each of us brought into her life. How she never regretted a single one of us. I always saw her as a victim, though-pregnant at eighteen, raising a kid that wasn’t even my dad’s. My oldest sister? Not my dad’s. She’s the daughter of my mom’s true mate.”
Briar paused, her gaze distant as she spoke. “But my dad never treated her differently. He loves her just the same. I see it in the way he looks at her.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected.
“I guess my point is,” she continued, “families are complicated. What you want today might not be what you want tomorrow. My mom wanted to be a teacher, and you know what? She made it happen. She started a school at our pack. She found a way to have the best of both worlds.”
Briar leaned closer, her eyes locked on mine. “Look, I’m not saying you should roll over and bare your neck to them. Hell no. But maybe… just maybe… you don’t know where they’re coming from either. My advice? Date them. Separately and together. Get to know them with an open mind. But if you want to fuck with them, I’ll help.”
Her mischievous grin was contagious, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Date them, huh?” I mused, leaning back and resting my elbows on the bleachers behind me.
“Oh, I like that idea!” Rose cooed. *I want to be spoiled!*
Her idea of being spoiled and mine were leagues apart, though. Raw meat wasn’t exactly my idea of luxury. But Briar had a point. Dating them might give me the chance to see what they valued-what they thought it would take to impress me.
“You might be onto something, Miss Briar,” I admitted, a small smirk tugging at my lips.
She grinned wickedly, leaning closer. “I’d rather be *on* something. Or under someone! Do you know number 27?” she asked, licking her lips as her eyes followed one of the players.