by H. D. Gordon
Now, I sat in the only dark tavern Faerport had to speak of, my third glass of moonshine clutched in my hand. I tipped the glass up to my lips and drained the contents. Seeing as how I was not a drinker, my head swam with the effect.
But the shine had done its duty, and the rage that had been simmering in me when I’d left the house had finally subsided. I paid the tab and stood from the bar, gripping the top of it when the world spun with the movement.
Since I was no longer in a murderous state of mind, I figured it would be okay if I returned to the house and passed out until either the drunkenness wore off or Demarco awakened.
With this blurry thought, a wave of fear struck me hard enough that I gripped the surface of the bar and it groaned lowly beneath my fingers.
If Demarco woke up.
I shook my head, swaying on my feet as I tried to push these things from my mind. With a nod at the bartender, I shoved away from the bar and wandered out of the pub, the sound of my boots thudding on the ground my only company.
Or so I thought.
As soon as I stepped out into the moonlight, some muted instinct in my gut was set off, and I glanced around the quiet streets of Faerport, trying to pinpoint the source of it. This was the commercial area of the town, just one street with a pub and a few other businesses, and even though it was a weekend, there were never too many people milling about after hours.
No one I could see, anyway.
I stumbled a little as I set off down the street in the direction of home, the full moon overhead staring unblinkingly down at me. I made it about three steps when that internal alarm bell sounded again, muted from the muddled state of mind I’d put myself in.
I drew a deep breath, trying to clear my head, but the three glasses of shine had done their job well, and I knew I’d need to sleep off this little binge, that there was no quick way through it.
Apparently, I was not the only one who knew this.
As I rounded the corner, I picked up their scents for the first time, and nearly fell on my face when one of them stepped out in front of me.
“Hey, there pretty lady,” said the male who’d stepped into my path. “Where you heading?”
Though the world was tilted, I took in the male’s attributes, and saw that he was a Wolf with a large belly and a front tooth missing, and that his head was bald but his arms were hairy.
“Get out of my way,” I said, but the words didn’t carry the usual command; they were slurred and unhurried.
Shit, I thought.
“Move,” I tried again, but the male in front of me only grinned, the stench of his foul breath floating to me on the night breeze.
That was when another strange male voice spoke behind me.
“We don’t think we will, sweetheart,” the second male crooned.
A glance over my shoulder made my head spin faster than it already was, and I caught a blurry glimpse of not one, but two other male Wolves in their mortal forms creeping up behind me.
The danger of the situation crashed over me in a wave, and I tried to bite down on the feeling, but the moonshine I’d consumed gurgled wretchedly in my belly, and I fought for a moment just to keep the contents of my stomach down.
I sucked in the cool night air sharply, glancing up and down the quiet street, and not seeing much chance for escape; not with the way the three male Wolves were surrounding me.
Cursing the heavens for my reckless behavior, a sweat broke out over my brow as I spoke through tight teeth. My hands went down to my waist as I did so.
“Just walk away, boys,” I warned.
This must have amused them, because they laughed. I hated the sound; it was the smug snicker of entitled males.
The one in front of me with the bald head and hairy arms ran his tongue out over his lips. “You heard him, sweetheart. We don’t think we will.”
My stomach flipped again, and I fought hard against the feeling of helplessness that was threatening to overcome me. This was precisely the reason I didn’t usually drink; I hated the way I lost control when I did.
I planted my feet, addressing the fear head-on—the only way I knew how.
The three males closed in a little tighter, their bodies loose and ready for a chase or fight. The testosterone leaking off them was palpable in the air. I cursed myself again, feeling like the biggest idiot in all the realms.
“Look at her nice clothes,” said the third Wolf, speaking up for the first time. “I’ve always wanted to fuck a rich bitch.”
Anger flooded into me anew, washing away any other emotion like a tide, and when I turned and met the gaze of the Wolf who’d spoken, my eyes glowed Wolf-gold with my rage.
My right gun was out of its holster in a heartbeat, my finger applying pressure to the trigger.
The sound exploded into the night, and the top of the bastard’s head would have blown clean off if one of the others hadn’t rushed in and knocked me off balance at the last moment.
The world tilted, and I knew I was going to go down but could do nothing to stop it. The body of the male who’d collided with me knocked the wind clean out of me, the force throwing the gun free from my right hand.
I watched in a haze as three things came to my attention at once. The first was that the bullet must have struck some part of the piece of shit who had disrespected me, because he cried out in pain, and the irony scent of blood hit the air. The second was that the gun on my left side must have gotten caught in the fabric of my jacket as I was tackled, because I could not get it free. And the third was the shock of pain that came with the impact of the male’s body, and then the following impact of hitting the ground.
He landed atop me, all two-hundred and fifty some odd pounds of him, and I hit the paved street on my right shoulder.
As I did so, I heard a crack that sent a zing of agony all the way down to my fingertips, and was barely able to stifle my own cry of pain.
Then, the first Wolf who had spoken was standing over me, grinning, licking his chops. Even through the drunken and agony laced haze through which I was currently viewing the world, I could see the intention behind his eyes.
And though I was still angry, another pang of fear struck me deep enough that I had no choice but to look it in the face. I couldn’t remember feeling that afraid for a very long time.
“Let’s take her somewhere else,” said one of them, though it was hard to tell which from my position on the ground. “Someone will have heard that shot.”
A fresh surge of panic raced through me as I heard this, knowing that if they were able to take me elsewhere, my chances of making it through this in one piece were slim.
I lashed out with my foot as the one who’d taken me down made a grab for me, and caught him in the gut, sending him flying back several paces. I yanked at my left side iron, still trying to free it of the fabric, but the other two were too quick, and I was too drunk to handle myself accordingly.
The bald one stomped on my wrist hard enough to shatter a couple bones there, and my howl of pain cut across the night. There was barely time to dwell on it before the other Wolf rammed his knee into my face, and the world burst into a white light before going dark for several seconds.
Distantly, I was aware of being yanked upward, of my body being hauled along as if tossed over a shoulder, but there was nothing I could do about it. I was struggling to even remain conscious. The darkness was closing in.
The smell of them was heady; that of sweat, body odor, and unchecked testosterone. I tried to peel my eyes open and caught a glimpse of the ground moving beneath me, of legs that were moving with haste.
Then my captor halted abruptly, and a voice I knew, but could not pinpoint at the moment spoke in a tone so low and calm that despite my condition, goosebumps broke out over my arms.
“Put her down,” the voice said. “Right now.”
I tried to lift my head but it was heavy and pounding, my eyes unable to see.
“Fuck off, Demon,” one of the Wolves replied.
“She’s a Wolf. This is none of your business.”
“I’m making it my business,” the familiar voice replied. “And I won’t ask nicely again.”
Red flared behind my eyelids, and I felt a rush of heat that I wanted to sink into, but it was gone before it could sooth my cold and aching bones.
As I fought to keep my head above the surface, there was a moment of tension so palpable that it could be felt in the air.
Then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone, and the baldheaded Wolf said, “Let’s go, boys. The bitch isn’t worth it.”
My stomach rushed up as whoever was holding me dropped me like a sack of potatoes, and I braced for an impact that didn’t come. Though I could no longer feel any hands on me, it was as if some invisible force had caught me in the air.
“Go before I burn you alive,” the newcomer said.
The sound of three sets of heavy footsteps filled my ears. With every bit of effort I contained, I finally managed to peel my eyes open enough to see who had come to my rescue.
Elian’s face hovered above mine, and through the haze of pain and moonshine, I thought I’d never seen a more beautiful face in all my life.
He squatted down and took me into his arms, holding me gently, mindful of my various wounds. I noticed then that there was a scantily clad female standing off to the side, her eyes wide and her arms crossed over her chest.
“The gun…” I said, managing to lift my finger and point at my long-barreled revolver still lying on the ground.
With a flick of his fingers, the iron lifted into the air and floated over to him, where he tucked it into the back of his waistband.
Just then, an authoritative voice sounded from somewhere nearby. I’d spent enough time as a poor Wolf from the slums to recognize the tone of an officer when I heard one. The Guard had no doubt been alerted to a loud bang in the area.
The panic I felt at this must’ve been visible on my ruined face, because Elian looked toward the sound of the officer’s voice, and then back down at me, where I lie barely conscious in his arms.
“Let’s get you out of here, Crazy Lady,” he said.
Those were the last words I heard before my grip on the ledge I’d been clinging to slipped free, and I plunged into an abyss of darkness.
Chapter 8
I jolted upright, my chest heaving and my body screaming at the movement. My head was pounding, as if my brain were literally throbbing beneath my skull.
I groaned as the room came into slow focus, and saw from the full moon through the window that it was still nighttime, and that I didn’t know where the hell I was.
“Easy,” said a male voice beside me. “You were hurt pretty bad.”
My head whipped around and pounded harder at the sudden movement. I spotted Elian sitting in a chair beside the bed. A book was in his hands. He turned it over and placed it atop the nearby nightstand, his face only half illuminated by the light of the candle flickering there.
I saw now that I was in some kind of nice bedroom, and through a wall of windows, I could see the glittering buildings of Cerys in the distance
“Where am I?” I asked.
Elian shifted forward in his seat, his hazel eyes examining me. “At my loft in Faerport, near the Faery Canal.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and the world swayed with them, pain shooting through my shoulder. “Shit,” I mumbled between clenched teeth. I must not have been out for long, because I was still shit-faced drunk.
Elian confirmed this. “You’ve only slept for less than an hour,” he said. “Perhaps you should rest a little longer.
I pushed to my feet, shaking my head. “No, I need to get home.”
This was a stupid mistake, and I felt the gurgling in my belly explode up my throat before there was anything I could do to stop it. For a horrifying moment, I was sure I was going to spew all over the Demon, but Elian’s eyes went wide and he snapped his fingers. A small trash bin floated over to me just in time to catch the worst of it.
Wishing a hole would open up in the bedroom floor and suck me down into it, I gripped the trash bin and lowered my head inside while I spewed up my guts. My legs buckled and I sat back down on the mattress, gagging as the moonshine took its second trip through my esophagus.
I retched and spat, sweat breaking out over me despite the fact that my whole body was shivering. My eyes burned with tears and I saw through blurry vision as Elian retrieved a blanket from the back of a chair in the room and draped it over my shoulders. After, he reclaimed the seat near the bed and gave me a droll look.
“Perhaps you should rest a little longer,” he repeated.
I was still finishing my embarrassing display, so I didn’t respond. When I was finally done, he handed me a glass of water, and I swished it in my mouth and spat it into the trash bucket as well.
My hand was still shaking as I ran the back of it over my forehead, pushing my sweaty bangs out of my face.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said.
Elian’s head tilted, a dimple appearing on his cheek. “What’s that?”
“You want me to marry you, I’m sure. But the answer is no.”
Elian was silent a moment, his handsome face turning up in a slow grin. Then, he busted out into laughter that eased the tension a touch. I smirked through my dizziness and made another attempt to stand.
The Demon clicked his tongue. “I’m heartbroken, I assure you,” he said. “I do so love crazy and stubborn Alpha female Wolves.” His voice lowered as he leaned forward. “And the regurgitation is super attractive.”
A chuckle escaped me, and it was so rare that I laughed that the sound surprised me.
And then made me retch again. I squeezed my eyes shut and drew a deep breath. “I need to get home,” I said, and hated the weak sound of my voice. I was such a fool; I had people at home to care for, and no right to run off and get drunk. My family needed me.
Demarco needed me.
The Demon was silent, and I could feel his gaze studying me. I straightened up a bit, feeling marginally better now that the bulk of it was out of me, but still terribly dizzy.
After a long moment of observation, Eli said, “Okay, I’ll take you home.”
I looked up, right into his handsome face, my eyes lingering on the dimples in his cheeks before finally meeting the hazel of his gaze. The memory of him catching me, and the thought that had come on its heels resurfaced.
I’d thought that he was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.
And now, I seemed to be struggling to look right at him. My stomach twisted, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the moonshine.
“You will?” I said, but my voice came out a whisper.
Elian shrugged. “Of course. If that’s what you want.”
I thought of the first time I’d met him, of how he’d been nestled between two scantily clad, overly beautiful females, and the entirely different scantily clad, overly beautiful female I’d glimpsed this evening, and a feeling I didn’t know how to designate stung me, but I shoved it away instantly.
“I’ll have the driver pull the carriage around,” he added.
I was about to agree, but then I bit my lip.
Elian’s dimples reappeared. “Yes?” he asked.
I didn’t want my family to see me in this condition. This was not typical behavior of me, and I didn’t want to give them cause to worry. With Demarco, we had enough to worry about.
“Maybe I should stay a little longer,” I said. “Just until I can walk straight on my own.”
The Demon settled back into his chair, a smile tugging up his lips.
“As you wish, Crazy Lady,” he said.
“If you don’t stop calling me that,” I warned. “I’m going to punch you in the throat.”
The Demon sputtered a short laugh from where he sat in the chair beside the bed, half reading a novel and half taunting me with his probing banter.
“Why? I like the name. It fits.�
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I was lying on the bed, my forearm draped over my eyes, and my stomach finally starting to settle. I kept drifting in and out of sleep, and every time I was about to really slip away, the Demon would interrupt with some annoying question.
“I’m a lot stronger than I look,” I said. “A throat punch from me would hurt like hell.”
Elian snorted. “I would easily dodge your strike and then gently subdue you.”
I lifted my arm a little and glanced over at him. “Do you always talk so damn much?”
His dimples made an appearance as he smirked, his hazel eyes meeting mine over the top of his book. “Only when something has piqued my interest, Dearest Dita,” he said, apparently assigning me a new name.
I sighed and dropped my arm over my face again. “Well, there’s nothing to see here.”
His laughter filled the space, and I supposed it was not a terrible sound. “The first time I met you, you were running out of the Borden’s mansion as though your tail had caught fire.”
The mention of the Bordens made me stiffen, but Elian continued on without noticing.
“The second time, you barged into my train car and then crawled around through the isles in order to hide from a handsome Head Hound with a terribly serious face.” His brows rose as I looked over at him now with narrowed eyes, but he added, “And just now…”
His face went serious. “Well, I suppose I don’t need to recap that.”
Dropping my arm, I stared up at the ceiling, letting out a low breath and silently vowing for the millionth time in the past hour that I would never touch a drink again. “Sounds perfectly normal to me,” I mumbled.
“What’s your story, Dita Silvers?” Elian asked, setting the book aside and leaning forward in his chair. I noticed that his posture was perfect, his strong back straight and confident, and thought that this was an odd thing to pick up on.
I stared at the ceiling above the bed, which was starting to steady again as the effects of the moonshine slowly left my system. “I’m just someone who started with very little, and would like to end with more than that,” I said.