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He roughly grabs my elbow, making me pause. I look at the place where his fingers are digging into my flesh and then directly into his eyes, momentarily getting stuck in the vortex of the present storm.
“If you care about him at all, let him go,” he whispers to me.
“You’re implying that I’m actually holding him, and I can assure that I’m not,” I whisper back.
We both continue to stare and simultaneously take in deep breaths. I momentarily forget that I’m even standing in the middle of a shit show.
After another minute of staring in silence, I lean in to whisper again.
“Elijah, you have to let go of my arm.”
His eyes glide down to where he’s holding me, and he immediately lets go as if he’s just been burned. He looks around to see if anyone is watching us, but to his relief, they’re all focused on Micah again.
I start to walk away when I hear Micah. “I’ve already told you. I don’t accept you as my chosen. You deserve to be with someone that actually wants to be with you, London.”
“What about us?” Caleb questions.
I take a side glance to see him staring at me, but the question was definitely addressed to Micah.
Wasn’t it?
Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s because Celeste’s desire to fight is infectious; but when I look into Caleb’s hazel eyes, I can’t help but grin back, raise my hands, and shrug both my shoulders.
He glowers back at me, and the bubbling laughter escapes before I can contain it. I grab onto Celeste, pushing her through the crowd. I don’t really think any of this is funny, but my nerves are all over the place, and I can’t kill the goddamn butterflies.
At the bar, I order four shots of chilled Hennessey while Celeste stands at my side, admiring all the different costumes people have on tonight. I drink the first two shots almost as fast as they’re placed on the counter. But when I pick up the third one, Micah’s hand stops me. He attempts to push my drink back to the counter.
My eyes narrow at the glass like it’s a traitor. As soon as Micah’s hand lifts off mine, I knock the bottom of the shot glass to the counter and then chug it.
“Angel, easy,” Micah chastises. “You don’t need to drink that much or that quickly. We’ve got all night.”
“If you think I’m going to stay here with these assholes, you’re clearly mistaken.” And just to spite him, I grab the other shot before he can take it away and down it in one go.
Taylor walks up behind us. “I think it might be best for us to go. Elijah and Caleb don’t look all too kind.”
Celeste scoffs. “Fuck them.”
My eyes widen as I swing my head down to her. “What happened to ‘you don’t tell a Knight no’?”
She shrugs one shoulder and orders a drink of her own.
Taylor’s lips turn down, and I swear I can see the moment a new idea pops into his head.
I cross my arms and raise one eyebrow. “What, Bryant?”
His eyes glow in mischief while his grin grows wider. “Nothing,” he lies, then he turns to Micah. “Can you pick up an Uber?”
I watch as the two of them have a silent conversation. Neither one of them move their lips as an apparent agreement is made. I shiver involuntarily as tingles dance across my skin. Micah finally nods his head to approve whatever thoughts Taylor just telepathically delivered.
The four of us have one more shot and immediately walk out to the club parking lot. I attempt to grab the door handle of Taylor’s borrowed car when Micah stops me.
He leans into me and whispers, “Let them have their space. I’ll take you home after we speak.”
My eyes snap to Celeste—we’ve been here before.
Taylor whispers in her ear, and she smiles at him in return. She glances my way and reads my concern.
“It’ll be fine, Evie. I’ll see you back home in a few hours.”
