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Not now, not ever.”
“I feel a teleport coming on,” she said, deadpan. “Oh no. Hold me, Cian.”
“Never,” he fake-growled, “you must be reclaimed!”
Elijah: I see you chose chaos, tonight.
Kili.”
“You really wanna go there?” Mei snapped, jumping to her feet. “People only like you because you’re pretty. Get your head out of your ass, Carter. Your pretty privilege is suffocating us.” “Oh my god, thank you.” Isobel pressed a hand to her chest. “I thought they only liked me for my Alphas.”
“Hey nutte—” he started, before catching sight of Theodore over her shoulder. He cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. “Nut … nutritious person,” he amended, floundering for a moment. “What’s up?”
“Nope.” He was already shaking his head. “No way.” He waved his fork at Theodore, Cian, and Kilian. “That’s three against one. My face is too pretty to be broken.”
Kilian was busy introducing himself properly to Luis, who was sitting at their small dining table clutching a deck of tarot cards and staring at the pale Alpha with wide, wonder-filled brown eyes.
He was giggling so hard his glasses had fallen off twice, and he kept nudging them back into place with his shoulder.
LilySquirt: Hi! Carter! It’s me!! She grinned, notching her elbow onto the countertop and leaning into the camera with a soft smile. “Hi, Lily.”
“Just a kiss, sweet girl,” he whispered over her mouth. “I won’t be breaking you tonight.”
“Are you going to k-keep them in there?” “Yes.”
Isobel tried to analyse the dancing. She really did. But she kept getting distracted by the sheer athletic magnetism of the Alphas on the stage. The way they jumped, kicked, even the way they grinned at the cameras. Their muscles twitched and bulged, their breaths coming harder and harder, sweat dusting their skin, their eyes intense. She started fanning herself, her body growing hot. Theodore squeezed her shoulder in sympathy, the talented, irresistible, condescending asshole.
@jessleeXYZ: Carter is mother.
Carter is mother.
Just like I made your mother forget you.
“Who are you?” he asked, unable to meet her eyes. “Three years ago, I dropped off a scared little girl, but I don’t see her anymore. I don’t know who you are.” “I’m a little bit of you,” she admitted, drawing his familiar eyes back up. There were tears in them that stubbornly refused to fall. “And a little bit of her. But mostly, I’m still just that scared little girl.” “I think you could win this game, Isobel.” It wasn’t a forceful statement. It was an almost curious observation. “With or without my help.” “I will win this game,” she told him. “With or without your help.”
“I’m a little bit of you,” she admitted, drawing his familiar eyes back up. There were tears in them that stubbornly refused to fall. “And a little bit of her. But mostly, I’m still just that scared little girl.” “I think you could win this game, Isobel.” It wasn’t a forceful statement. It was an almost curious observation. “With or without my help.” “I will win this game,” she told him. “With or without your help.”
…
She leaned in and extracted a heavy, sodden cloth, which she folded and laid over Eve’s face. Immediately, Eve’s body jerked, the cloth concaving as her mouth opened and she tried to pull in a panicked breath. Yulia reached into another bag, uncapping a large bottle of water. She poured it over Eve’s face, soaking the cloth further as the girl tried to desperately jerk and wiggle free.

