Page 141 of Psycho Pack

"Oh, no," Whiskey groans. "He's using words likefools."

"You're going to ruin your appetite," Plague says, taking the croissant out of Whiskey's hand before he can finish it. "Andnothing infuriates the royal family like an alpha who can't finish his plate."

Whiskey snorts. "Not gonna happen. I'm fuckin' famished."

"Not for cock," Valek adds.

Plague rounds on him. "Would you shut up before I have you thrown into a pit?" he hisses. "And don't talk like that around my family or I'll follow through on that threat."

Valek just cackles, but the usual mirthlessness is gone. I can't help but smile at the almost playful banter between them. It's such a stark contrast to the tension that's always simmered beneath the surface when these alphas interact.

"I liked Brainfucked Valek better too," Plague grumbles, turning back to Whiskey. "He was marginally less annoying."

Valek's eyes narrow above his new scarf. "And I liked you better when you were just a pretentious doctor instead of a pretentious princess."

"At least I'm consistently pretentious," Plague shoots back. "Unlike some people who swing wildly between homicidal maniac and kicked puppy."

"I prefer the term 'reformed psychopath,'" Valek muses, adjusting his scarf with exaggerated dignity.

"Reformed?" Whiskey snorts. "Since fucking when?"

"I've had a spiritual encounter," Valek replies simply.

I can't help but snort at Valek's words. A spiritual encounter? Him? The most nihilistic, bloodthirsty alpha I've ever met claims to have found religion?

"You're full of shit," Whiskey says, voicing my thoughts.

"The Goddess speaks to those who need her most," a soft voice says from behind us.

We all whirl to find one of the attendants standing in the archway, her beaded veil swaying gently. She bows slightly. "Forgive the interruption, but dinner will be served soon. We've brought proper attire for you all."

More attendants materialize from alcoves I hadn't even noticed, their arms laden with stacks of white fabric that catches the light like fresh snow.

"Finally," Whiskey mutters. "I'm tired of my nipples being out."

"That makes two of us," Valek drawls. "I'm sure your lovers disagree."

I bite back a laugh as Plague rounds on him again. "What did Ijustsay about?—"

"About being appropriate around your family, yes, yes." Valek waves a hand dismissively. "But they're not here yet, are they?"

"Close enough," Plague growls, still bristling.

"Are the attendants relatives, too?" Valek asks curiously. "Does your nobility keep things as close in the family as the ones on that little island, or no?"

"No," Plague snaps, his jaw ticking. "They're not relatives."

Valek holds up his palms in a placating gesture. "I'm not here to judge. My own gene pool certainly leaves something to be desired."

Whiskey blows a puff of air through his nose. "Bro, everything about you leaves something to be desired."

"Not everything," I reply.

Valek gazes at me like I hung the damn moon.

"Don't get used to it," I mutter so only he can hear me.

The attendants carefully lay out the clothes on nearby benches. There are crisp white shirts for the alphas, all in stark white with gold threading. But what catches my eye is the garment clearly meant for me.