I don’t care about her. She’s just a red X that’s going to bring me what I need before I get the hell out of this side of the country. Then I’ll retreat back into my quiet, mountainside home.
Still, I draw closer.
“What the hell happened to make you so goddamn bitter and cynical?” The answer to that is long and ugly, but she doesn’t wait for my response before pressing on. “I’ve learned how to stand on my own two feet. The only reason I’m allowing you to hang around is because my grandma sent you.”
Guilt strikes me like a viper, drawing blood. So I treat it with gasoline, pouring it on the fire I’d already lit.
“More like tilting on two feet. I understand standing on your own, but denying yourself money is stupid – wealth enables independence. And you aren’t independent. You’re a rich chick in denial, and a walking target. If I hadn’t been there the last couple days, you would have been kidnapped or worse.”
“What do you expect me to do? I’m just a human.”
“Better, I expect you to do better. You claim you want to make it on your own? Well, survivors figure it the fuck out. They don’t play little college girl, and hope everything will be okay.”
Her fiery expression crumbles into dust. She covers her stomach with her arms, as she pulls into herself. But she can’t protect herself from my words. “So, because I don’t have magic to fight off ice mages or Ogres, I’m a useless little princess amusing herself with the games of humans.”
It is what I’ve been saying, but it isn’t true. Red is much more than that. But I need to shove as much distance between us while staying as physically close as possible.
The word grinds its way out between my teeth. “Bingo.”
Red turns abruptly and falls into an even faster stride to the bar. But not before I catch sight of her glassy eyes. She raises the hood on her long coat, so I can’t see her tears.
Instead of seeing if they fall, I hang back as we finish our journey in silence.
So what if I hurt her feelings? She’s ridiculous. A financial advisor who rejects money.
But why do I bother critiquing her life choices? I only need her for one thing.
Still, a stone drops in my stomach, giving me a sick feeling inside.
Suddenly I want to shift, burst into fur and sink into my animal mind so I don’t have to think about anything I just said to the teary-eyed girl with the hard set jaw.
This is how one survives as a lone wolf. By slashing and clawing at any threat of connection or bond. I lost my ability to bond socially a long time ago. If I want to survive, and I do, I’ll make sure I never form an attachment of any kind again.
Catching sight of Red touching her face surreptitiously, I pretend I don’t know she’s wiping wetness from her cheeks. I tighten my fists until my knuckles hurt.
That’s right, Red. This is who I am. You should be more careful because the Big Bad Wolf will eat you alive. If only your grandmother had warned you about wolves like me.
Chapter18
Rap in the Hood
BREXLEY
Rap, short for Rapunzel, is the owner of Poison Apple. After Goldie leads me into Rap’s small office tucked away at the back of the bar, she babbles on to her boss about how I was just trying to help Red with an unruly customer. That I may be fae, but I won’t cause any problems. The bubbly blonde doesn’t realize Rap and I stopped listening as soon as she started.
Emerald green eyes assess me keenly, but I am doing the same to her as we face off, while Goldie stands to the side of us. Rap’s banana yellow hair is gelled up in a mohawk. Streaks of pastel colors create a rainbow effect. Rap is older than her employees, but this woman has yet to hit thirty. Lean and muscular, she wears deliberately tattered clothes, but the kind you pay a designer to rip up ahead of time.
Unlike the rest of the bar, that drips with luxury and whimsical decor, her office is bare, simple, and neat. Her laptop sits open on a steel desk with only a lamp next to it. A generic calendar without pictures is tacked on the wall next to the massive whiteboard displaying the employee schedule.
I recognize the look in her eye almost immediately. She’s a survivor, like me. Someone capable of gnawing off their own arm to escape a raw deal. Someone not willing to let anyone fuck with their present or future.
And judging by the way Rap studies me, she isn’t likely to let me stay, as I’d endanger both.
Something tickles my nose. The bar owner smells human, but not entirely.
No. She wasn’t always human. This woman used to have the talent for magic, but she doesn’t anymore. I don’t hide the realization from alighting in my eyes.
It’s rare, and I’ve only smelled it once or twice before, and I realize I’ve stumbled onto her secret.
