Page 49 of Devour

“The wedding…”

The wedding? What about the wedding?

“Were you so drunk you don’t remember?” Owen asked next.

“I guess so, because I have no idea what either of you are talking about,” I admitted.

Owen gasped as if my response shortened his lifespan. “Rhory had to drive you home and we know he spent the night with you. Because when Ash texted Rhory the next day to see if you were okay and said maybe he should check on you, Rhory said he never left.”

“And?”

“The guy drove over three hours in the middle of the night to get you home, then stayed overnight with you,” Asher reiterated.

“Well, he probably didn’t realize we could’ve gotten rooms at the hotel.” That much seemed obvious even to me.

“Oh, he knew. We were talking about it right before you stumbled over,” Asher chuckled.

“Well, then, he probably assumed if I couldn’t drive, I was in no position to be making charges to my credit card, either.”

“But he stayed the night,” Owen said with a small grin.

I dismissed that accusation with a wave of my hand and a slow gulp of my drink. “He’s stayed at my place countless times by now. It’s not a big deal to us.”

“Oh… us.” Asher glanced at Owen and began grinning, too.

“Nothing happened,” I scoffed.

“I do not believe you,” Owen chirped, his smile widening.

“For goodness’ sake, if I really was as drunk as you say, then definitely not. He’s not some kind of animal.”

“You know, believe it or not, for once I would not be betting on Rhory,” Owen snickered.

“Agreed. Rhory wouldn’t be my pick in this particular instance, either.” Asher locked eyes with me and dropped his voice. “You pawed at him all night. Literally. Did not take your hands off him for even a second. If you hadn’t left when you did, you probably would’ve ended the night with him in your lap and your hand down his pants.”

I rolled my eyes at such a ridiculously unfounded claim. “Now I know you’re exaggerating.”

“We have photographic evidence.” Owen dug around in his pocket for his phone, scrolled back in his albums and—yep, that was me. Hanging all over my favorite demon like an ill-fitting jacket. Oh, dear.

“Well… you know… he must’ve been tipsy too.” A claim I knew to be impossible, but one which they did not.

“Oh, most certainly not,” Asher scoffed. “He finished a drink right before you stumbled over and didn’t have another the rest of the night. Probably realized you thrust the title of designated driver upon him once you got wine drunk.”

“And the only other time I drank too much, things got interesting then, too,” I grumbled. “I wouldn’t read too much into this.”

Asher rolled his eyes. Owen wasn’t buying it, either.

“Regardless of how sober either of you were, I still can’t believe after all this time, with sexual tension so thick I could cut with a knife, you two have never hooked up,” Owen said.

“Oh, they absolutely have, but Eli won’t ever admit to it.” Then Asher took a long sip of his iced tea, perhaps even intentionally.

“Have not.” And the fact I snapped back as quickly as I did made my short argument sound worse even to me.

“See?” Followed by another long and smug pause by Asher.

“That’s a very bold accusation for you to make so confidently,” I said.

“What about that time on your birthday when we went to the place with the pool hall? You disappeared and came back with a hickey.” Asher raised his brow.