“For what?” Sissy asked, and she looked like she really didn’t want to know.

“Love?” Gemma, Sissy’s distant Smith cousin, asked with a sad amount of hope on her pretty face.

Ronnie and Sissy snorted. “Love?” Ronnie couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice. That word more foreign to her than Sanskrit. “No. I’d rather have rabies than be in love.”

“Why?”

“Because at least you can get over rabies with some shots.”

Marty laughed and shook her head. She seemed to be the only one who didn’t appear remotely drunk and she’d polished off an entire bottle of vodka by herself. “Trust me, pups, one day you’ll find that male who makes you love him, care for him, and want to stab him in the face all at the same time. And your lives will never be the same.”

Ronnie and Sissy both shuddered in horror.

“We’re so drunk,” Gemma observed for no apparent reason.

“We’re not drunk,” Sissy corrected. “We’re blasted off our asses.”

Taking her shot of tequila in one gulp before slamming the glass on the table, Ronnie offered, “I don’t want my life to pass me by.”

Filling Ronnie’s glass again, Sissy promised, “It won’t.”

“It’s already started. It’s whizzing by like a freight train.”

“So? We’ve had some great times, darlin’,” Sissy reminded her.

“We have. But I’m sorry if I don’t still wanna be running wild with you when I’m fifty. Life cannot be a series of great fucks followed by barroom brawls.”

Gemma scratched her head. “And why is that?”

“When you get past your twenty-fifth birthday, Perky Tits, you can ask me that again.”

Looking down at her chest, Gemma grinned. “Well I’ll be…they are perky!”

Sissy grabbed Ronnie’s arm before she could launch herself at the adorable little She-wolf.

“Okay.” Sissy kept a good grip on Ronnie while slamming back another shot of tequila. “Perhaps we should think about heading back to the hotel.”

“Why?” Gemma whined.

In answer, Daria, Ronnie’s second cousin twice removed, opened her mouth to say something, and then her head slammed right into the table when she passed out.

“Yup,” Marty agreed. “Time to go.”

They got two cabs back to the hotel and either underpaid the drivers by ten dollars or overpaid them by a thousand. Unfortunately, they weren’t really sure which, but the cabbies seemed happy and Marty kept snickering.

Arms around each other, they stumbled back into the Kingston Arms. A fancy, shifter-owned-and-operated establishment. Unlike some resort towns their kind owned,here the Pack couldn’t exactly go running around in their animal form since full-humans stayed at the hotel, too. They had no way to keep them out. But shifters received the best of everything at a very low rate.

“Oooh. Bar.” Sissy Mae stumbled into the fancy hotel bar, but Ronnie and Marty caught up to her.

“Oh no you don’t. Upstairs with you,” Marty chastised. “She is so going to regret this when she wakes up tomorrow.”

“I’m relatively certain we all will.” Together they stumbled to the elevators, and as they waited, Ronnie glanced back and realized Marty studied a large glass case by one of the bars. Ronnie had barely noticed it the many times she’d passed by it. It looked like a typical trophy case with important hotel awards or whatever. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“I’m reading this article on the owners of this hotel.”

“Fascinating.” Ronnie looked at Sissy and they both rolled their eyes.

“Oh it is,” Marty enthused. “Here. Let me read you a bit…”

“Please don’t,” Sissy muttered in Ronnie’s ear.

Clearing her throat, Marty began reading, “‘The Kingston Hotel in downtown New York was only a few days from the wrecking ball when entrepreneurs Alden, Brendon, and Marissa Shaw purchased the old hotel and turned it around. Since then the still family-owned Kingston Arms Hotels have become exclusive havens for the very wealthy, with establishments located around the world. The elder Shaw makes his home at all of the locations from time to time.’” Taking a deep breath and not even bothering to hide her smile or laughter, Marty finished with, “‘Only son Brendon still lives in Kingston Arms New York.’”

Ronnie stared at the older woman. “No. Way.”

“Sorry, darlin’. Looks like you’ll be seeing him again whether you want to or not.”

“You know, you could enjoy this a little less.”

“I could.” Marty stepped into the elevator, holding the door open for the rest of the She-wolves. “But I plan to enjoy this to the full extent of my capabilities.”

“I hate you,” Ronnie mumbled as she shoved her cousin inside.

“Oh, I know you’d like to, darlin’. I know you’d like to.”

Brendon glared down at the top of his sister’s head. “Are you crying?”

“No,” she muttered while discreetly trying to wipe her eyes.

“You are,” he accused, pushing her off his arm where she’d been resting. “You’re crying at Born Free!”

“Well, it’s just so sad.”

“You cry at a movie but not about your brother?”