Chapter 3
Rummy
“You don’t understand.”
Goddess above, I needed something stronger than ale.
Anger simmered in my veins as the asshole on the stool beside me smirked. “He’s too damn proud to think of anyone else’s interests. He wants to travel to the eastern kingdoms for himself, not for us. He’s looking for someone to save in order to bolster his own ego, per fucking usual.”
With a huff, Huntyr glanced over her shoulder to where Jessiah and Wolf spoke in hushed whispers across the bar.
For brothers, they really looked nothing alike.
Aside from their height and the large, sculpted shoulders, the two couldn’t possibly differ more.
Wolf had massive golden wings, a gift from the goddess herself, while Jessiah’s sparkled so white and clean, they practically glowed.
“He’s a good man,” she said, her shoulders sinking. “I don’t know why you two hate each other so much now. You used to get along!”
My chest pinched. “That was before.”
“Before what?”
A shaking breath escaped me. “Before he started looking at me like I was less-than.”
She opened her mouth, surely ready to argue, but I held my hand, cutting her off.
“Don’t act like you don’t see it, Hunt. He pities me because I’m a lowly fae living in a kingdom of vampyres and fae who wield magic. I’m nothing to him. Nobody.”
The argument simmered in her eyes, but she said nothing.
“It’s not that I hate him.” I heaved in a breath, giving myself a moment to calm my rising temper. Of the four of us, I supposed I did have the hardest time controlling my emotions. But they didn’t see the world the way I did. I only acted this way because I cared so damn much.
And the last thing I wanted was for Hunt to get hurt. Anyone, really.
It mattered to me. She mattered to me.
“Jumping in to help a kingdom that didn’t do the same when we needed it doesn’t seem worth risking our safety. Jessiah’s need to feel important is clouding his judgement.”
Huntyr picked up her own drink and took a small sip, her expression thoughtful. “Wolf is beginning to see Jessiah’s point of view,” she said, her eyes not meeting mine. “He thinks we need to strengthen our borders and prove our alliances early, while we’re still rebuilding Scarlata.”
“And you?” I asked. “What do you think about all this?”
She took a long breath and tilted her head up to the sky. “I think I’m exhausted. And I’m tired of being responsible for these kinds of decisions. If I could see into the future, if I knew all possible outcomes, that would be nice.”
I almost spat out my drink. “Yeah.” I let out a sardonic laugh, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. “Maybe I should make a trip to Moira. Learn how to see the future for you. It would make me a lot more useful around here. Then maybe Jessiah would actually respect me.”
I meant the words as a joke, but my chest cracked all the same.
Hunt’s smile faded, too, which hurt even more than the truth in my statement.
“You’re perfect the way you are, Rummy.” Her eyes softened. “I know adjusting to life here has been challenging, but you’re respected. You’re valued. This is your home just as much as it’s mine.”
I forced a smile. Hunt had so damn much to worry about already. The very last thing I wanted was to give her more to stress over.
“We’ll figure it all out soon, okay?” she pushed.
Wolf made his way over to us, his massive golden—and slightly obnoxious—wings fluttering into view. Huntyr’s face lit up at the sight, and as if the two were opposing magnets, she pushed off the bar and slipped into his arms.
“Go home,” she called to me. “Get some sleep! We’ll talk tomorrow!”
And then she was gone, she and Wolf winding through the bustling crowd.
Home. What a foreign concept. Midgrave had been home for so long. It wasn’t much, but it was familiar to me.
This place?
Two years, and every day, I felt less like I belonged. I was reminded at every turn that I wasn’t one of them.
I finished the rest of my ale in two large gulps then held up my mug, gesturing to Soph.
“Are you okay?” she asked as she sidled my way. “You seem down tonight.”
I laughed, the sound hollow. “I’m fine, Soph. Thanks.” I picked up the mug she’d refilled. “I’m just way too fucking sober.”
My third ale went down just as easily as the first two.
I wasn’t at all jealous of Huntyr. I knew damn well that she battled her own demons every day. But constantly witnessing the love she and Wolf shared reminded me of how alone I was.
It used to be the two of us against the world.
But she had someone now to protect her. To fight for her.
And I was pretty certain I’d never have that kind of love.
I shook my head and smoothed my hair down with my hands. No, people like me didn’t get happy endings like that. People like me didn’t deserve happy endings like that. I was a lowly, scumbag fae who fucked everything up.
Jessiah knew it.
Huntyr knew it, though she was way too damn nice to ever admit it.
And I knew it.
So I did the one thing I was actually good at. I flipped my hair over my shoulder, tugged at the hem of my shirt until my breasts practically spilled out of the top, loosened my leather jacket across my shoulders, and turned to the bustling crowd of vampyres.
Vampyres were fun. That, I could admit. Two years ago, life was different. Every male I met had been apprehensive about hooking up with a fae. But since the curse of the bloodlust had been lifted, there hadn’t been any issues with… well, lack of control.
Personally, I missed the high that came with that lack of control. But I kept that to myself.
I scanned the crowd until my eyes landed on a familiar face in the distance. Travis. No, maybe Tristan. Who the hells cared? His eyes landed on mine a few seconds later, and his face lit up.
It was just too fucking easy.
I threw money onto the counter for Soph, then stood and headed for the sexy, tall vampyre with cute hair. I had slept with him a couple of times, and if I remembered correctly, he wasn’t bad in bed.
Better than most of these other guys.
Halfway there, a strong hand clasped around my bicep and yanked me from my mission.
“What in the hells do you think you’re doing?” a deep voice practically growled.
Jessiah.
A shiver worked its way down my spine. One of annoyance mixed with an emotion I refused to acknowledge.
I tried to rip my arm away, but he only held on tighter. His light brown eyebrows were drawn together in what looked like concern, but I knew better. He didn’t care about me.
He only pitied me.
“I’m doing what you told me to, remember? I’m doing the one thing I’m actually good at around here. Drinking myself half to death and hopping into bed with the first guy who looks at me.”
His features darkened, his wings puffing out a fraction. “You’re drunk. You should go home.”
My chest tightened. Not because I actually cared about what Jessiah thought, but because I knew, deep down, beneath this harsh exterior, he was a soft person. A caring person.
And me? The absolute fucking disaster standing in front of him right now? I was nothing but a mess to him.
A problem to be fixed. Something his hero-complex could save.
So I yanked my arm out of his grip—successfully this time—and gave him a cutting smile. “Thanks for the suggestion, Jessiah. I think I will go home.”
When I turned on my heel and waltzed over to Travis-or-Tristan, Jessiah’s attention was like a brand. But I didn’t care. I made sure my ass was perfectly in view as I leaned over the tall vampyre’s bar table.
“You busy tonight?” I asked.
His eyes lit up. “If you’re free? Never.”
“Good. Come with me.” I straightened and made my way through the crowd.
He followed behind me eagerly. Such a good little boy toy.
But as I stepped out of the clearing and onto the small street that led to my place, a figure appeared, and a massive set of angel wings spread the width of the alley.
I skidded to a stop, cursing to myself. “Excuse me.” With a hand on my hip, I lifted my chin. “My friend and I would like to get by.”
“Go home, Tristan,” Jessiah commanded.
Goddess above. This asshole was always annoying as all hells, but tonight he was even worse than usual.
“Yes, Commander. Sorry, I—”
“Just shut up and go.” The sharp tone of Jessiah’s voice even made me stiffen for a split second.
But then I remembered who the fuck I was and who the fuck he apparently thought he was.
Tristan was already jogging backward.
Coward.
“Well, thanks for that.” I marched toward Jessiah.
His shadowed face became visible as I approached, and he did not look happy.
“What gives you the right to order my friends around?”
Jessiah’s wings were still outstretched. And damn. Wolf’s golden wings were impressive, yes, but these?
Nobody else in Scarlata had wings like his. Not one of the handful of other angels living here had this kind of wingspan.
Stop thinking like that. It’s the ale getting to you, making your thoughts wander to his wings. And to his strong thighs.
With a shake of my head, I cleared my mind, focusing solely on how irritating he could be.
“I told you to go home. Not pick up some poor male from the streets and fuck him in your bed.”
My hackles rose. “Why do you care who I do and don’t fuck? That’s quite literally none of your business.”
His jaw tightened. “It’s my business.”
No, it wasn’t his business. And why the hells would he think it was?
“Look.” I huffed out a frustrated breath. “I know you think you have to look out for me because you’re, like, sworn to protect Huntyr or something, but I can assure you, I’m fine on my own.”
For a moment, all he did was study me. Eventually, his expression still stony, he said, “You’re the furthest thing from fine, Rummy.”
An emotion I typically ran far, far away from—one that left me feeling too exposed—crept up my throat, tightened my lungs. I shoved it away before it could wrap its fist around my heart and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
“Don’t ever think you can control me,” I spat, holding tight to my anger. “You’re nothing but a fucking errand dog for your brother. You’re pathetic. So pathetic, in fact, that you’d rather babysit me than lead your own stupid little life. I feel sorry for you.”
I held his unmoving gaze.
Hurt. Care.
Something. Anything.
How could this man be so unshaken? I wanted him to get angry. I wanted him to know how pissed I was. I didn’t need him to look out for me. I didn’t need his—whatever the fuck he’d been trying to give me for the past two years. Friendship? I wasn’t sure.
I didn’t give a fuck.
“Now, move.” Shoulders back and chin lifted, I took a step closer, waiting for him to move his wings so I could pass through.
After several seconds, I worried he wouldn’t budge at all.
But eventually, he did. And eventually, I strode past him with a huff.
Not another fucking word.
I shouldn’t have expected him to yell after me. I shouldn’t have expected him to follow. To give me more orders.
But I did. There was no helping it.
And when he didn't, the familiar hollowed hole in my chest returned.
I waltzed through the dark night, away from the tavern full of people drinking, dancing, celebrating.
Away from those who pretended this was all fine.
And the more I walked, the deeper the hole I’d fallen into grew.
My small brick cottage sat at the end of the street. It was quiet back here. Peaceful. I had no interest in constantly living in the center of it all the way Huntyr and Wolf did.
I much preferred the silence.
I shoved the wooden door open and immediately snagged the bottle of liquor from the table. The building was dark, without lighting, but the large window at the top of the structure let in just enough moonlight to allow me to navigate the space easily.
It was all I needed.
This was all I needed.
I told myself that over and over as the liquor burned my lips and made my throat tingle.
Alcohol was the only thing I’d found that could fill that hollow cavern in my chest, that would allow me to forget the way Jessiah looked at me.
I was fine.
I was fucking fine.
Yet every time we were near one another, he treated me like I was a ticking time bomb.
Unlike him, I wasn’t a damn near-perfect warrior who’d trained an entire army of refugees. And I wasn’t the son of the archangel, practically bred to lead a meaningful life.
I was nothing but a magicless fae, and I was here because I had nowhere fucking else to go and because Huntyr pitied me.
I took another drink. Then another.
Mid-sip, I kicked off my boots. I left them there and made my way to the small mirror above my bathroom sink.
I hated this fucking mirror. I hated the image that stared back at me.
A dull face with sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks from hidden misery.
Brittle, blonde hair that Huntyr had been jealous of most of our lives.
But she didn’t see what I saw. She didn’t see empty eyes.
She didn’t understand the pain that came with pretending to be okay every minute of every day, pretending that living in a world not made for my type wasn’t painful.
I put the bottle to my lips and swallowed again.
Fuck Jessiah. I didn’t need him. I sure as all hells didn’t need his pity.
Liquor sloshed out as I collapsed onto the unmade bed.
Morning would come too soon. In a matter of hours, the thick, suffocating night would disappear, and I’d once again find the strength to breathe evenly.
Come daylight, I’d once again pretend life was actually worth living.
But for now, I’d lie in bed and drink until I finally passed out.