Chapter 35
Alaric
After ten glasses of elkwine and a fae wine chaser, I was feeling no pain. Okay, so my legs had gone numb, and I was fairly certain my glamour might have slipped a bit, but in this shitty bar, nobody cared.
The other patrons appeared as miserable as me. I strongly suspected the only reasons people drank in this inn, with its stone floor and mossy walls, were the extra-strong liquor at bargain-basement prices and the warm fire.
The place lacked ambiance, and the tables looked like a drunk troll had flung a few bits of lumber together while high on witch weed.
A crude painting hanging above the fireplace—of a unicorn—reminded me of the terrible artwork on my apartment wall.
A picture the little witch had laughed at when she and her friend visited that one time.
But I wasn’t thinking about her.
Nope.
The longer I spent nursing a drink while hunched over the slab of timber that functioned as a bar, the more flashbacks I got to a shitty inn on an equally shitty other island, the cursed night I met the polar bear shifter and his dumb-as-bricks wolf shifter mate.
Fond memories.
Not.
I raised a hand at the bartender and mumbled a request for a second glass of fae wine. Not gonna lie, that stuff was seriously lethal. Like rocket fuel with a side of nuclear fusion lethal. But if it numbed my emotions, I’d call it a win.
The barkeep, some kind of monosyllabic shifter, grunted at me in a language I didn’t understand. I pulled a few notes from my pocket and threw them at him.
“More fae wine,” I slurred. Fuck him, was my money not good enough? What an asshole. I’d recommend additional customer service training when I left a review on . Oh wait. I’d thrown my phone in the ocean two days ago, so I had no internet access.
It sucked to be me.
Huffing out a sigh, I rested my cheek on the rough bar top. Maybe I’d sleep in here tonight. It was warmer than my shitty room. Smelled better too. Marginally.
A bulky figure dressed in a thick fur coat stomped up to the bar. He smelled of salt and frost. I tried to raise my head to make sure he wasn’t about to slit my throat, but the fae wine had taken its toll.
Fuck. I was fucked. Like, seriously fucked.
Oh well.
I’d had a good life.
No, that was a lie.
My life to date had mostly been awful.
Abusive father…abused mother…life as an abused nepo mage sucked big time.
And I had a soul-bonded mate I couldn’t be with.
A mate so beautiful and perfect and powerful and…fuck my life, she probably fucking hated me.
“Cut him off, Jarod,” the male grunted. “He’s had enough.”
The barkeep muttered something unintelligible under his breath and then went to throw a few more logs on the fire.
“I haveshn’t…had…eshnuff,” I grumbled. At least I think I did. The connection between my mouth and my brain appeared to have gone offline. Maybe I needed to reboot it.
Or sleep.
Yeah, sleep sounded way better.
I’d sleep here, where it was warm and dry.
My eyes closed while I let my thoughts drift off into a fantasy where I had teleportation magic and could blink anywhere I liked.
A beach in Thailand would be so much better than this shitty inn.
The idea of relaxing in the scorching sun while being pampered by hot females was appealing.
Except, in my heart, I didn’t want any other female.
Just a small witch with a sassy mouth and unreliable magic.
The world tilted sideways as I slid off my stool, too drunk to save myself. But before I hit the stone floor and killed a few more brain cells, the hulking male at my side caught me.
“Fucking stupid drunk mage,” he grumbled under his breath.
“I’m shnot a mage,” I slurred.
“No, you’re an idiot,” he replied before I blacked out.
Sunlight seared my brain when I cracked open my eyes.
Oh my goddess, how much did I drink last night?
I tried to sit up, but hideous waves of nausea made it impossible.
Fuck my life. Hangovers from fae wine were the absolute worst. I’d rather take a one-way trip to the demon realm than endure a fae wine hangover.
Fucking fae assholes. Surely they could make wine that didn’t cause a fucking hangover!
Swallowing down the vomit that threatened to explode from my heaving stomach, I attempted once again to sit up.
The smell of fried food tickled my nose, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in…how long? Fuck, I wasn’t entirely sure. The boat trip here had been horrific, and by the time I’d hurled my guts up fifty million times, food was the last thing on my mind.
No wonder the wine had hit me so damn hard.
There needed to be a law against drinking fae wine on an empty stomach.
I’d suggest that to my father the next time we talked.
Oh wait…I wasn’t talking to the abusive, narcissistic, psychopathic, megalomaniac…fuck.
The minute my thoughts cleared sufficiently to allow me to focus on my surroundings, I realized I wasn’t in the shitty room I’d paid for. This one was larger, considerably more luxurious, and much warmer.
The bed was firm but not lumpy. A thick pelt and pile of blankets covered me, and a fire blazed to my left. On my right, a window crusted with fresh snow overlooked the ocean.
Where was I?
Had someone abducted me?
I scanned the room, searching for clues. A stack of romance novels on a side table had me scratching my head. Then I spotted a photo of a pretty female with gossamer wings, and clarity struck like an arrow.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, mage,” the polar bear shifter said from the doorway.
“There’s a bathroom through that door. Take a shower for the goddess’s sake and then come through to the kitchen.
I’ve left some clean clothes in there for you.
Breakfast is ready when you’re done.” He cracked a smile before leaving.
I inwardly groaned. How had I ended up crossing paths with Maverick’s cousin again?
Fate truly was fucking with me.