71. Chapter Seventy-One
Three shots of honey-whiskey on an empty stomach and a wounded ego had certainly been… a choice.
Even so, the liquor felt less like a buzz and more like a sedative as I went through the motions, trying my best to be present for my friends. This band was gods-awful, though. Even Sia, in all her effortless elegance, had a hard time finding the beat as we danced together amidst throngs of our peers.
“Oh, look, Ark! Mason’s here tonight,” Laurel chirped, dancing with Hanna several feet away. I resisted the urge to cringe.
“She means well,” Sia murmured, wrapping a protective arm around my waist as Mason glanced our way. “But girl, please. We could find you something so much better than Mason Park.”
My memories of that particular one-night stand had been effectively obliterated, so I had no real argument there. Though, to be fair to Mason, that was less about how forgettable he was in bed, and more about how infuriatingly memorable somebody else had been.
For the next few songs, Sienna attempted to distract me by pointing out other attractive strangers, offering tidbits of information on those she knew, and making scathing assumptions about those she didn’t. Her colorful commentary kept me just distracted enough to enjoy myself, legitimately laughing a few times as she exposed some of her own personal exploits.
That said, even when I tried to see through Sia’s playful lens of “alternate possibilities,” all I could really see was Kieran. He remained in the back of my mind, a presence that was somehow both haunting and welcome.
“Oh, gods no. Never sleep with an Archeron,” Sia was hissing in my ear now as a tall, curly-haired gentleman passed by. “Nathaniel is a skeevy prick, and his brother Emil simply does not bathe. I had to sit next to them both at a dinner party last month and spent the entire evening trying to devise a spell that would plug my ears and nose at the same time. Shadow can be so useless.”
At some point or another, halfway through the night, one of Laurel’s other friends had weaved her way through the crowd with bubbly enthusiasm. In truth, I didn’t bother to catch her name, though she had invited us all to join up with another group of friends at a different tavern, a few blocks over. I guess we weren’t the only ones who had been feeling less than enthusiastic about the band and their warbles.
We ended up taking her up on it. I downed the last of my whiskey, savoring the smooth burn in my throat and the warmth in my chest as we stepped back out into the night air, a throng of us just openly meandering through the industrial district. I was less familiar with this part of the city, so I linked arms with Sienna and attempted to tune back into their conversation. They were talking shit, from the sounds of it. Something about Percy Zephirin making an ass out of himself yet again, as we rounded the corner and made our way to the entrance of the smaller venue.
I had just about caught up on the story when suddenly, Laurel froze in her tracks.
“Oh, fuck,” Sia said, after craning her neck to follow Laurel’s gaze.
I couldn’t quite see what they were reacting to, the view obscured as the rest of the group was making their way inside. But all of the color seemed to drain from Sienna’s face when she glanced back at me, and her eyes were frantic.
The Hel? I was so confused—until the small crowd cleared the doors. Then, I felt my heart stop dead in my chest.
No.
There was no fucking way—but I wasn’t drunk enough to be delusional, and I was certainly not drunk enough to be imagining this scene of public indecency. There was a fever dream, a nightmare taking place right there on the opposite end of the dimly-lit room as various strangers milled about, blissfully unaware of my rising fury as my fingers curled and tightened into fists.
That fucking bastard.
“We should go,” Laurel said quietly. “Come on, Ark. Let’s just leave.”
But I wasn’t going anywhere. Because there he was, just a few feet away, after six godsdamned days of silence.
Kieran fucking Vistarii.
The prick was a perfect picture of unbothered self-indulgence. He was lounging on a red velvet chaise with one hand resting lazily behind his head, the other nursing a glass of some clear liquor. And how very odd for him to be in civilian clothes right now, all things considered—his black shirt in a state of partial undress, the buttons undone nearly all the way to his godsdamned navel.
The man who had apparently been so busy with work that he’d been ignoring me for days on end seemed perfectly content and care-free in his current situation: legs splayed wide as a lithe feminine form slowly writhed in between. Another feminine looking hand was already slipping against his neck, joining from behind. Of course.
Of fucking course.
I probably should have just listened to Laurel. Maybe I could have left with my dignity intact, if it weren’t for the fact that in that exact moment, Kieran glanced over in our direction, catching my eye and holding my furious gaze with his own languid, self-satisfied smirk.
He didn’t break that eye contact once as he dipped his head down to press his lips against the stranger’s fingers, now resting on his collarbone. And I was just drunk enough to be brave.
As I started to stride forward, Laurel tried to catch my arm.
“Ark, honey, don’t bother—”
Sienna cut in, her voice nearly as stone-cold and deadly as I was feeling at the moment.
“Laur. Let her go.”
I was going to fucking strangle him.
I made it across the room in just a few strides, and I couldn’t tell if it was because the room was small, or because I was just that angry.
“Busy with work, eh, Captain?” I asked, my voice low and sickly saccharine.
I disregarded the irritated glances I was getting from his choice in companionship this evening. My eyes narrowed in on him, and him alone. He just gave me a lazy smile, taking a long sip from what smelled like gin in his tumbler.
“I got off early.”
My temper flared to cataclysmic levels, nails biting hard into the tender flesh of my palms.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now, Kieran.”
“Am I?” he mused.
Oh, for fucks sake.
“Why are you doing this?” I demanded.
“Doing what, exactly?”
I stayed silent for a moment. Was this supposed to be a challenge? A trap? Some way to get me to humiliate myself in public by admitting my feelings for him? Was I supposed to act like this was anything other than a complete and utter betrayal?
“Aww,” he said slowly, cocking his head. “Did you really think you could change me so easily, Little Conduit? That’s almost… sweet.”
“Don’t fucking patronize me right now, Kieran.”
“Later, then?”
Between the whiskey and the heat of my anger, masking a much deeper undercurrent of pain, my aether was absolutely roiling beneath my skin. I needed to be careful. I knew what could happen in the heat of a moment.
“I mean, I’d offer to let you join us, but there’s only so much room left on the chair, you see. Hans and Jer are here, though. Perhaps you could show one of them a good time instead,” Kieran suggested, nodding towards the other corner of the room.
I glanced over, tears prickling in my eyes. Hans blanched, meanwhile Jeremiah looked quietly furious.
You and me both, I thought bitterly—though I had no idea what Kieran’s lieutenant was so angry about.
Something about the glimmer in Kieran’s eye, his quiet challenge towards me, and the half-lidded, lusty glance of appreciation towards the woman in his lap had me on the verge of breaking something. I could practically taste the smoke in my mouth, the way I wanted to burn this entire place down.
“Go fuck yourself,” I spat.
“I won’t need to,” he smirked. “Oh, and Arken?”
“What?” I snapped.
“Consider this your warning.”
My mouth ran dry. For a moment, that motherfucker had actually rendered me speechless—and he didn’t seem to care, turning his attention back to the blonde between his legs. Before I could do something that I’d regret, I turned on my heel and stormed off, walking straight past Laurel, Sienna, and the rest of them.
“Ark,” Sia called, trying to follow.
“Don’t,” I snarled, tasting blood on my freshly bitten tongue. “I need to be alone.”
I didn’t bother to slow down or apologize. I just took off into the night with blood in my mouth, tears in my eyes, and crescent-shaped cuts on my palms, desperately trying to hold myself together. I needed to make it home.
Consider this your warning.
I just needed to make it home.
And then I could fall apart.