Snatching the bottle, I downed a gulp. The whiskey burned all those unspoken words from my tongue. All the fear and doubt and restlessness. I swallowed another. “Nor I.”

“Now who’s whispering,” Reid grumbled.

We both looked to Jean Luc, who’d thrown his coat on the dressing table. I lifted my voice and the bottle simultaneously. “What about you, dear captain? Can we tempt you?”

“I’m going to bed. Poison yourselves all you’d like.”

I lifted a hand to my mouth, addressing Beau in a mock whisper. “He doesn’t want to play.”

Jean Luc paused in pulling back the quilt. “Play what?”

“Truth or dare.” Batting my lashes, I took another long pull before handing the bottle to Beau. “Just a couple of questions to pass the time until we fall asleep.”

“Until you pass out, you mean.” He flicked the quilt back and began to climb beneath it. “No, thank you.”

“That’s probably for the best.” I leaned into Beau conspiratorially, my limbs already pleasantly warm. He chuckled in response, a sturdy and familiar presence at my side. An anchor against my riotous thoughts. You know everything about me, don’t you? They called me trash boy. “I’ve been spending lots of time with Célie lately, so I have all sorts of juicy secrets I might’ve let slip.”

He lurched up instantly—then narrowed his eyes. Slowly, he sank back onto the bed. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he repeated, voice emphatic, “and it isn’t the reason why I’ve decided to humor you. Give me the bottle.” Beau slapped it in his outstretched hand, and his throat worked on an enormous swallow. Wiping his mouth, he handed it to Reid next. “You start.”

Reid examined the bottle in distaste. “I’m not playing.”

“Oh, come on, Chass.” I rose to my tiptoes, clasping my hands together at my chest and swaying. “Please? I promise I won’t make you measure your dick against Jean Luc’s.”

Jean Luc smirked. “Now that is for the best. I wouldn’t want to embarrass anyone.”

Spluttering, Reid’s knuckles whitened on the bottle. “You—you can’t—” He grimaced. “What are the rules?”

“Rules are simple.” Beau plucked the bottle from his hand before draping himself across the end of the bed. I sank to the floor, still cackling with triumph, and curled my legs beneath me. “You choose a truth, or you a choose a dare. If you choose neither”—he lifted the whiskey meaningfully—“you drink. Sound fair?”

Reid remained standing, crossing his arms and glaring down at us like some sort of pink-cheeked, vengeful god.

I sort of liked it.

“I’ll go first.” Jean Luc cleared his throat and rested his elbows on his knees. His light eyes found mine. “Lou: Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”