Page 173 of I’m The Worst

Ask him to stay.

Ask him why he sent the puppy.

His hand closes around the doorknob. “What did you name him?”

I blink at the back of his head, surprised by the question. “Jack.”

He pauses for half a second before stepping out, and the soft click echoes through the empty bathroom after he’s gone. I stand there, staring at the spot where he was. My body still feels warm. My chest doesn’t.

Finally, I bend down, grab the bottle from the floor, and take three long swallows. The alcohol burns all the way down, but it doesn’t help.

Nothing ever fucking helps.

Facing the mirror, I smooth my dress again. My face is flushed, mascara smudged, hair a mess. My fingers brush my lips—still swollen from his mouth. My thighs still feel sticky, and I can still feel the stretch of him inside me.

I close my eyes.

Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and this will all feel like a dream.

Because dreams are the only place where I get to keep pieces of him.

I make my way back into the ballroom and find an empty table near the back of the room. Dropping onto a chair, I grab a bottle from the center of the table and pour myself another drink.

A massive body suddenly crashes into the chair beside me, the entire table shifting.

Graves.

I’ve only run into him a handful of times at Sovereign parties, but that was more than enough. He’s loud and unpredictable. Every story I’ve ever heard about him ends in blood, broken bones, or someone too terrified to repeat the rest. All the Servants swear his cock is as big as the rest of him.

Considering the chair looks ready to collapse beneath his weight…

I wouldn’t bet against it.

“Having a good night, princess?” He steals the bottle right out of my hand.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” The word comes out a little slurred.

His smirk widens as he pours himself a drink. “I saw you sneaking off earlier with K9.”

“So?”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “So…I’ve never seen him like this before.” Tilting his head, he studies me. “I read his field reports.”

Heat immediately climbs into my cheeks. I look down at my glass, my fingers tightening around the stem. So people can just read my trauma for fun now? Fucking wonderful.

He pulls out a small baggie, dumps a line onto the back of his hand and snorts it, then offers the baggie to me with a lazy grin.

“Looks like you could use it.”

I hesitate only for a second before taking it. The room tilts a little more pleasantly after doing a line.

“I knew he’d find you.”

I glance up at him. “What?”

“I told your old man to send him. K9’s weird as fuck, but he’s good at two things. Hunting people. And killing people”

“So you two are friends?”