Page 42 of Crave

Dallas

AN HOUR AFTER SUNSET, my brothers and I put on black tactical gear and drove out to the north side of the ranch for our yearly post-Thanksgiving laser tag extravaganza. It was rematch time and the Caldwell cup was up for grabs, all of us gunning for the neon-orange water gun Dad had nailed to a sawed off two-by-four when River complained one year there was no trophy. Pretty sure it had been River’s water gun, too. That’s what you got in our house for asking questions.

So maybe full contact laser tag was a little more extreme than sitting down to watch football while gorging ourselves with pumpkin pie. But hey. Just how we rolled, y’all.

“Paintball would have been way more fun,” I said.

“No.” Brody tapped something into his phone.

“Capture the flag.”

“One, Lacey can’t shift. Whatever the vamps hit her with still isn’t out of her system.”

“So she plays human.”

“Two,” my brother continued, pointedly ignoring me. “Like we need some government drone flying overhead to get footage of a two-hundred pound white wolf belly-flopping into the swimming hole.”

I flipped him off. Because, once. That happened once. And I’d been wasted.

“So for the fifth time. Your sensors have been programmed. Ten hits and you’re out. You get a two life bar bonus for eliminating another competitor. Oh, and before I forget, soft contact only.” West shot me and Ethan a meaningful look. “As moderator, I have the ability to disqualify people at my discretion.”

I raised my hand like we were back in grade school and immediately scored two high-fives and the patented West Caldwell glare that had freshmen everywhere begging for a schedule change. Okay, not actually. My brother had in fact been nominated for teacher of the year twice. But no way was I telling him he was awesome when he wasn’t in hard-core hall monitor mode.

“If we’re talking strategy, it’s a fifteen-minute timeout for hard contact, and the vests will register a hit every five seconds.”

My brother’s eyes narrowed. “Your point?”

“So isn’t it better to take someone out, wait out the penalty and reenter the game?”

Lacey pinched my side. “Just shut up so we can play.”

August rolled his eyes. “If you’re talking about the River gambit—”

River raised his rifle overhead. “Respect.”

“—that was outlawed two years ago—”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Guillermo murmured, examining his laser gun like he’d never handled one before. Or maybe anything purchased from Target. “So many rules.”

“You asked once how they all survived to adulthood,” my mom replied mildly.

“Anyway,” West went on, glaring at us all like he wished there were a way to deduct points during gameplay for not listening to the instructions. “Since it’s not safe to shift with so many Feds crawling around town, we thought this would be a fun way to blow off steam.”

“Hell yeah.” Hayden leaned up to bite her husband’s ear. He kissed her neck. I gave them five minutes after the whistle blew. Ten, tops.

“This is Hunger Games style elimination. Once you’re out, come back to base camp. No shifting and no powers.”

“And if the talented pretty boys can’t shoot straight?” August called from the back.

River flipped him off.

“Tall, dark and dangerous works on you.” Grabbing my target vest, Lacey rose up on her toes. Our tongues met, the kiss stretching far longer than was decent. Grinning, she shoved me away. “But you’re still going down.”

“My kind of woman.”

“Okay, tributes,” West called. “You know the drill.”

Hayden whistled the four-note Mockingjay tune, aimed her laser gun at her husband and backed off towards the trees.