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His thumb jerks against my shoulder. “Why don’t you drop this asshole and come sit with me,” he tells Styx.
“Watch your mouth,” I warn, temper heating beneath my skin.
The alcohol fuels my rage, and my blood heats with the urge to turn this asshole to cinders and ash.
“Fuck you,” the guy says.
“That’s it,” Styx snaps, getting to her feet.
The drunk makes a clumsy grab for her, and I snap.
The blood oath prevents me from killing him, but I shove him hard enough to send him flying backward into the empty table and chairs behind us. He crashes against them, sending wood splintering in all directions.
“What the hell,” the drunk stutters, but I barely register his words as I focus on his attempts to get up.
Back on his feet, his skin ripples as he shifts into his counterpart: a hellhound from the looks of it.
Good.
I wouldn’t want this fight to be easy.
“Legion.” Styx’s voice is sharp and close.
I ignore her.
She steps in front of me, blocking the asshole from my view.
“You can’t,” she says.
“Move.”
“Caius will have your hide,” she argues. “Let me.”
“If you harm him without Caius’ approval, the blood oath will compel me to intervene against you,” I tell her.
She smirks. “You don’t think I can take you?”
Before I can answer, the hellhound leaps straight for Styx. I shove her aside and throw myself at him with a roar. The blood bond pulls taut against my desire to kill, but it doesn’t prevent me from breaking every bone in his body one by one. Behind me, Styx finishes her drink and watches like the good friend she is while I do just that.
Chapter 3
Tori
Ahalf-hour later, blood still pumping with adrenaline and fear, I bypass the house and use the creaky gate to slip into my backyard. An old shed in the back serves as my workshop, and I hurry inside, forgoing the light to keep from alerting Kendall. Using the flashlight on my phone, I search through the cabinets along the far wall, rifling through items until I’ve kicked up enough dust to send me into a coughing fit.
Finally, I find the book I’m looking for. Grabbing it from the stack, I whirl just in time for the door to bang open and Kendall to fill the opening. She has a kitchen knife gripped in each hand, her expression twisted in fear and determination.
“Stop right there, or I’ll cut you in half,” she threatens.
“Kendall,” I say, shining the flashlight on my own face. “It’s me.”
She huffs out a breath in strangled relief. “Gods, Tor. What the fuck. You scared me senseless.”
“Sorry.”
I shuffle over and flip on the light.
Kendall takes one look at me, and her fear returns. “What happened?”
