I shake my head. There is no way to address what’s happened without making things worse.
The walk passes by faster than normal as my brain races to fill the span, trying to construct something to say.
Before we enter the Poison Apple, I stop and turn to him. “Listen, we both know that yet again, it was a mistake. You don’t even like me. So let’s just pretend it never happened. I’m reinstating the no touching rule. Sound good? Good.” I nod to myself, satisfied with the one-sided conversation and ready to get to work.
“You think I don’t like you?” he says, stopping me in my tracks.
He stares at me so intently I want to back up a few steps. I manage to stand my ground.
“You’ve made that pretty clear,” I say slowly.
Sure, he’s nice to my friends, saved me from multiple attacks, and stares at me like I’m the only girl in the entire universe when he’s fucking the life out of me. But I know exactly what he thinks of me.
He licks his top lip as if giving serious consideration to what he is going to say next. Then I realize I don’t want to hear whatever it is, so I whirl around and practically flee into the bar.
Did it sound like I was trying to get him to say he liked me?
Ugh, Red, yet again we are coming off desperate. Hunter didn’t want you, and Brexley sure as hell doesn’t want you.
Then I consider it may be the bodyguard dynamic. Having someone in my business all the time makes things feel mixed up and confusing.
As soon as I slip behind the bar with Goldie and Cinder, there is no Brexley, or horribly embarrassing encounter. I’m in control of my hormones again, and everything will be fine.
Throughout the night, I occasionally look up for Brexley, but I don’t find him. Still, I know he is around here, somewhere, watching. Even with his larger-than-life presence and striking scars, he melts into the crowd.
Heat pulsates in me. The quickie is already wearing off, and by my calculation, this is the last day of my episode. Which makes it the most intense.
Keep your head down, Red. You got this.
At the height of the evening, drinks flow, music pulsates seductively, and the usual hypnotic vibe emanates from the low fairy lights of the massive tree hanging over the tables and lounge chairs. I'm lost to the rhythm and wonder if feeling in flow like this is similar to wielding magic. To be able to feel the energy and wield it with effortless motion.
The front doors slam open with a crash and a rush of icy wind. Two willowy, almost deathly pale people stroll into the bar. A hush rolls over the room. Even the music turns down at the violent entrance.
The crowd parts so I can see who is causing a fuss.
“Oh faefucks,” I whisper.
First heat, then cold washes over my body as my fight-or-flight instincts kick in. Every internal alarm bell goes off, blaring so loud I can’t think.
This can’t be happening. This has to be a nightmare. Because in no universe would my personal tormentors from Fairy Fine Arts show up in a human town, to the very bar where I work.
“Wait, is that who I think it is?” Goldie asks in an awed tone. She knows her mage celebrities, so I've no doubt Goldie is well aware who is standing before us.
I lick my suddenly parched lips and croak out their names. “Hansel and Gretel.”
Chapter26
An unpleasant pair
BREXLEY
Magic stink wafts off the two people who entered. One is a man and the other a woman, though frankly they look like one person who’s been split in half. Twins, if I had to guess. Thin sheets of white-blonde hair frame their faces and dip past their knees. Something about their dark eyes is severe and cold as the arctic. The way they scan the room, I can tell they are more pleased with themselves than anything they see.
Their magic, whatever it is, is powerful and vile, definitely Level Four. They wear the deep royal purple leathers that match.
A security guard approaches the female, “Hey, this is a humans-only bar. You can’t be in here.” Her head snaps toward him and power arcs from her eyes like tiny strands of lightning. The man suddenly gasps and doubles over, clutching at his stomach.
“Looks as though you arehungryfor a fight,” she purrs in a breathy voice that gives me goosebumps. My nose wrinkles against the sharp spike in her magic. The scent of spoiled milk and rotting meat assaults my senses. I suppress the urge to gag. I want to flee this place to get a clear breath of air, but I hold steady.
