CHAPTER 3
Rue
The same squirrely bartender from before passes me a shot, and instantly, I know it’s fae liquor by the way it swirls like there’s shimmering powder in it. Which I’m totally fine with. I did ask for the strongest thing she had after all, and fae can handle a hell of a lot. It’s said that their liquor can get a shifter blackout drunk with two shots and they have a higher tolerance than witches.
“Thanks,” I tell her politely, and she gives me a wary nod. Once again, I want to ask what her deal is but she’s already moving on to the new man who walked up and sat at the bar like he owns the place, his legs lazily splayed on the stool he’s perched on, his body angled toward mine. He’s staring at me as if I’m a mystery he wants to solve. His hands flex on the bar, and for half a second, I wonder if he’s my mystery man from the dance floor, but his hands aren’t quite large enough.
My brow quirks when the bartender’s demeanor completely changes as she sees lazy cat guy—totally what the hottie reminds me of—at the bar. She perks up instantly, pushing her generous-sized tits out and pasting a flirty smile on her face. This time I don’t miss the sharpness of her teeth as she flashes them at him. Vampire.
Some of the witches hold a grudge against the vampires for accidentally outing us to the humans, but it was bound to happen eventually, right? I mean, our ancestors hid our existence for thousands of years but that was before cell phones and live stream capabilities. Can’t exactly fake those. Besides, we got off extremely easily. The government is terrified of us and practically allows us to do whatever we want, within reason. The humans are infatuated with us.
The man shifts and his seemingly depthless blue eyes capture mine for the first time. All the breath whooshes out of me as we stare at one another. Everything else dips away and there’s a twinkle in his eyes like he finds me amusing. He smooths his hand through his golden blond hair before downing the same shot I have in my hand in one gulp. I’ve been so focused on him I didn’t even see him order it or the bartender give it to him.
Time seems to slow as he swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs deliciously. He wipes the little dribble of fae alcohol from the edge of his mouth, and the corner of his lip tips up into a seductive smirk. Oh yeah, this man is trouble. All men that look like sex on a stick are and you can’t convince me otherwise. It’s not hard to figure out he’s a shifter. They have a certain vibe you can make out anywhere—different beasts than vampires—but there’s always one lurking under the surface.
His gaze has never left me, watching me closely. I smile at him, and he moves to the stool next to mine. “Hey there, vixen,” he greets casually. That blue-eyed gaze dips to the lacey bralette underneath my shirt before returning to my face. I cock an eyebrow at him in challenge. Wow, that shot earlier must be in full effect. Either that or it’s his playful vibes making me more brazen than normal. “You come here often?”
I burst out laughing and that seems to be the reaction he was going for. “Okay, that line can’t actually work for you.”
He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “Definitely not, but I couldn’t resist the urge to make a beautiful woman like you laugh. Seems like you needed it.”
“You’re not kidding,” I respond and remember why I’m sitting at the bar in the first place. I down my fae shot in one gulp. My nose crinkles at the distinctly floral burn—because that’s all it is—a burn. “Holy shit, that stuff really is strong.” I cough, setting the shot glass on the bar. “Way stronger than I expected.”
“You do realize that was fae liquor?” he prods, eyes widening, and I wince, shrugging my shoulders.
“I mean, yeah. It’s not exactly what I was going for, but I did ask for her strongest shot and then figured it was fae after I saw it. I’m not a quitter.”
It’s my turn to have him laughing. One of his blond eyebrows is quirked at me. “Not a quitter? Does that mean you don’t spit”—I almost choke on air from the implication of his question, and it has my cheeks heating almost instantly—“out your shots?” I shoot him an incredulous look. “What? What’d you think I was going to say?” His grin is nothing short of devious.
My phone buzzes in my pocket—yes, leather pants with pockets for the win—and I dig it out. It’s another notification but this time it’s from Darcy’s social media. I click on it because I’m a glutton and it opens to a picture of Darcy cuddled up with a guy at the club. Wait, is that Lance Lacroix? His mother is a member of the Witches Council.
My mood instantly sours and indignation flutters through me. I knew they were ditching me for power reasons. Those fucking witches with a B. They can go smudge themselves. I roughly shove my phone back into my pocket, trying to drown out the thoughts of not being good enough before I spiral.
Those emotions must show on my face because Lazy Cat gets up to walk away like he thinks my emotions are targeted toward him. “Sorry to bother you, vixen.”
Curses and hexes. Here I am scaring off the hotties. I lightly put my hand on his arm. “Hey, wait. I’m sorry. You’re fine, it’s not you—“
He raises a blond eyebrow at me, and I don’t finish my sentence. “That sounds suspiciously like the start of a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line.” Another playful smile crests his face, and it makes my fingers itch for my charcoal pencils. I’d love to commit his image to paper. “Now who’s the one using lines?”
I groan. “Seriously, it’s not you at all. It is me. Have you ever had one of those days where you’re hoping everything will change but nothing does? At this point, I’d rather forget it ever happened.“ I glance away from him and signal for another shot from the bartender, even though the other two are already dulling my senses.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks as he sits once more, his expression open and curious. A guy who actually seems to care? Gimme. Especially when they seem like they’re truly trying to be authentic.
Taking a deep breath, I push my anger aside. “For starters, it’s my twenty-third birthday and my two friends, who invited me out here, ditched me to party somewhere else in the city.”
His blue eyes darken. “That’s shitty of them. Some friends those bitches are.”
“Tell me about it.”
The bartender sets the second shot in front of me with a wary glance. Lazy Cat quirks a brow at me. “Two fae shots in one night? You really are trying to forget, aren’t you?”
“Something like that,” I respond, reaching for the glass.
Before I can grab it, he tips it over and the swirling liquid spills over the edge onto the bartender’s counter. “That’s a shame because I’d much rather you remember this face, vixen.”
Blazing balls of fire, I’m in trouble because that’s the hottest witchin’ thing anyone has ever said to me. After my companion signals the bartender over and offers to pay for my spilled drink, an idea strikes me, and I can’t help from blurting, “You seem like a cool dude that’d be down for some revenge. How do you feel about messing with my shitty friends?”
That piques his interest, and his expression turns devious. “I absolutely am. What do you need me to do?”
“Take a picture with me.”
“That won’t be a hardship at all,” he responds and leans toward me as I pull my phone out. I click on the camera icon and raise it to capture our faces. Just as I’m about to snap the photo he nuzzles my neck and licks my pulse. The camera clicks as my face flushes. “Think that will work?” he asks, his lips still against my throat.
Navigating to my camera roll, I find the photo and a pang of lust shoots straight through me. Somehow, I managed to capture the moment perfectly, showcasing his tongue against my neck, and the surprise written across my face. It’s fucking hot and need courses through me. Not to mention an excellent picture to get back at Tessa and Darcy.
“Um, yes, absolutely.” My voice is breathier than I’d intended, and it takes everything in me not to shift my legs against the stool or fan myself. He leans back, that devious grin still on his face, and watches as I draft up the post with #happybirthdaytomyself #thiswitchgotgame #ifthebroomfitsrideit and to top if off, a kiss emoji.
Yep, that ought to do it.
“Wait, you should tag me,” Lazy Cat interrupts, pulling up his username. ThatShifterRhys. At first glance, it seems like he posts educational content about shifters, with the occasional gym and ab pic thrown in. Also a few posts about The Growl. You can tell a lot about a person by their social media, but he seems pretty clean. “The name’s Rhys Callahan, by the way.”
Oh, he pronounces it like Reese. Not Rice. Unlike that fae guy Rhysand.
“Rhys Callahan,” I say, testing it on my tongue, loving the way it rolls off. “Sexy. I like it.”
He tilts his head, watching me with hooded eyes. “You know, now that I think about it, I probably should have led with that…” he trails off when he catches me trying to stifle a chuckle.
“Mmm, yeah, that might’ve been better than a terrible pick up line. But who am I to judge? I’m Rue. Rue Delacroix. Thank you for helping me out. You have no idea how witchy they can be sometimes.” I keep my tone sincere because I want him to know how much I appreciate him helping a stranger, even if it means nothing to him. Hex, it’s probably just another night out to him, but the sentiment is the same.
Goodness me, he smells so good. I can still feel the phantom kiss like a scorching caress on my neck as the tension crackles between us.
“The pleasure is all mine, vixen,” Rhys practically purrs, sending another spike of desire through me.
Two hot strangers in one night?
This witch is on a roll.
My finger hovers over the post button, a part of me afraid of how they’re going to react, but the other remembers the way they talked to me and inches closer to the screen. “Would you like me to post it?” Rhys asks, sensing my hesitation. I nod. “Okay, hand me your phone.” I do as he asks, and he types away for a second before hitting the post button. My phone instantly begins buzzing and blowing up in his hands and a devious glint enters his eyes as he stares at the onslaught of notifications.
Tessa: Um, spill! Who’s the hottie?
Darcy: Trying to outdo me, I see. Petty.
He reads the messages out loud and rolls his eyes before quickly tapping out his own reply. I spring from my seat and see what he’s saying right before he hits send, eyes widening like saucers. Oh, my sweet moons.
Rue: Sorry ladies but your “friend” is a little too busy to respond. *eggplant emoji* *splash emoji* if you know what I mean. *wink emoji*
“There,” he says, handing it back to me. “That’ll get them stirring.”
A bubbling laugh bursts from my lips as I power the stupid thing down and shove it into my pocket. “I’m surprised you’re actually taking my request seriously.”
He scoffs. “Of course, I am. I never half-ass anything. And I do mean anything.” His tone is completely husky as his eyes travel down the length of me, the innuendo crystal clear. The sudden return of the music as it blares out of the speaker once more startles me and his lips tip into a grin as he extends his hand toward me. “Would you care to dance?”
I place mine in his. “How gentlemanly of you, but I think I’d rather make good on your text message, wouldn’t you?”
His eyebrows hit his hairline before his face erupts, his features coming alive with a daring grin, but before he can respond, a giant of a man steps up behind Rhys and places a hand on his shoulder. “We have a problem,” the mountainous man says gruffly. Instinctively, I glance at his tanned hands, but find they’re way too big to be my mystery dancing man. Crap, maybe I should’ve glanced at his face, so I don’t feel like Prince Charming studying every man’s hands like he did with Cinderella’s shoe.
“Fuck off, Kathan,” Rhys grits out. “I’m busy.”
“Whoa, did you say Kathan? Like Nathan with a K?” I ask.
The man in question sighs like he gets that all the time. I’m thankful for my semi-normal first name but I end up having to spell out my last name all the time, so I get it. Sort of. “Yes, Nathan with a K,” he rumbles and faces Rhys once more. “I wouldn’t interrupt your little date if it weren’t serious.” There’s a certain urgency in Kathan’s tone that has me believing him, even though he’s glaring at me like it’s my fault Rhys is preoccupied.
When Rhys doesn’t make a move to leave, the hand Kathan has on his shoulder tightens and he winces before relenting. “Okay, okay, fuck, man. I’m coming.” Rhys shoots me a look like he’s still considering ignoring Kathan.
Kathan whispers something to Rhys that makes him scowl and his eyes darken, no longer twinkling like they were earlier. Rhys lets out a long sigh and drops my hand. Instantly, I feel the loss of his warmth and by the scowl on his face, he feels it as well. “Sorry, vixen, duty calls,” he tells me. “We’ll have to resume this later.” He leans in and plants a kiss on my cheek, one that leaves me reeling as he strides away.
The liquor is steadily pounding through my veins now but for some reason, I no longer feel like partying. My twenty-third birthday is almost over. My magic hasn’t strengthened. My friends ditched me. I lost my dancing stranger and now Rhys. I’m exhausted and being drunk and tired is not a good combination in a strange place. Maybe I should head over to the motel I spotted down the road on my way here…
“I’ll be staying at the motel down the road until tomorrow!” I call out to Rhys’ retreating form and immediately place my hand over my mouth. I have no idea why I felt compelled to blurt that. Maybe it’s this simmering attraction between us or the easy-going way he was willing to help a stranger, but either way it doesn’t matter. Because I’d like to get to know him better. Way, way better.
He turns and a slight smile curves his lips. “I’ll see you later.”
I hop off my stool and head for the front entrance while Rhys and Kathan make their way to the back door labeled ‘emergency exit.’ There’s a slight tug in my chest toward the two gorgeous shifters I know nothing about, but I shove it aside.