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“Enjoy!” He chimes in a singsong voice as he goes to assist others waiting for drinks.
Darian chuckles and grabs a shot in each hand, turning to me. My eyes widen as I realize he’s about to do a double and a nervous laugh bubbles up as I mirror him.
Goodbye, liver.
“Here’s to restoring magic and stopping my brother before he makes anyone else suffer.”
I beam and clank my first shot glass against his, “And to do so, together. Cheers.” I finish, knocking the second shots together, tossing them back as the warmth pools in my stomach.
A short while later, Darian and I are both accepting another water from Lor as his smile falls, quickly turning into something darker as he looks at Darian before hurrying to the other side of the bar.
I hear heels clicking and my eyes scan nearby faces that fill with tension as they get closer.
Even the music seems to quiet down.
A feminine scoff sounds out from over my shoulder, “Funny for you to finally drag yourself back here and I find you drinking with some whore.”
Anger flushes over me and I bite the inside of my lip hard enough to taste blood.
Darian tosses his newest refill of whiskey back and turns slightly to look at the woman. His face is relaxed but as he grips his glass, his knuckles are white, and he repeatedly flexes his fingers around it.
“Some of us have bigger roles to play in life, Dolly.”
Ah, so this is the so-called ‘Terror’.
“If I didn’t know better, your ‘role’ consisted of bringing back a stray instead of dealing with your brother.” Her heels click to my side, and it’s my turn to throw back the remainder of my drink.
“Careful, Dolly,” Darian growls with vicious lethality and the corded muscles in his forearms are pulsating as his hands squeeze into fists.
I follow his gaze and glance at Dolly who is staring at him with amusement in her bright blue eyes. She looks to be in her thirties, with bleach blonde hair and blood-red lipstick with an expertlywell done smoky eye. Her silk red dress hangs off her shoulders from tiny straps, and she stands a few inches taller than me with her six-inch heels.
As I look at her, something chews at my gut and the mask of amusement I can see melts into disgust and hatred.
I blink and look at the crowd, the tension in the air around us is palpable as people watch the interaction.
My gaze flicks back to Dolly, her amusement is still painted over her features, but my mind can somehow see the expression beneath it as if plain as day.
What a terrible poker face.
My insides burn with anger as she reaches for my bicep, she painfully grips it, tugging me toward her and off the chair.
“Dolly, let h-”
Before Darian can continue, my rage bubbles over, and I’ve twisted her arm in a spin to place myself behind her. Releasing a pained yelp as I yank her arm into an uncomfortable position along her spine, thrusting her chest forward into the bar.
“Release me! Release me this instant!” She screams, stomping her heels on the ground.
It’s like the events leading up to tonight have activated the fight in my fight or flight response, but I don’t have time to evaluate the ‘why’ behind it as Darian chuckles darkly.
I tighten my grip on her, pushing her further into the bar.
“Darian, call your whore off!”
Grasping the back of her dress, I pull her from the bar as if I’m going to release her, and she relaxes slightly as she straightens.
Instead, I yank her off balance, and she stumbles with a shout. As she attempts to steady herself, I kick the inside of her knees, forcing her ankles to bend awkwardly at the movement as her knees connect to the ground with a crack.
My free hand yanks her hair back, and she gasps, her eyes wide.
