Chapter Twenty-Five
Saoirse
“Thank you so much for coming. It was so nice to see you.” Katie waved and left. We’d caught her set on one of the smaller stages and I came over to say hi to her after.
Dusty studied me for a moment. “Is she an assassin, too?”
I laughed as we went back into the crowds of festival-goers. “No.”
“She’s from your village?” He took my hand, keeping me close.
I allowed him since there weren’t a lot of people around. “No.”
“Did you off her cheating husband?” He shot me a grin. At some point he’d lost his blinking Santa hat.
I ruffled his hair. “No.”
“Are you going to tell me how you know each other?” he pleaded.
“She worked at one of the clubs that Fiona and her academy friends used to frequent and cause mischief at. I’ve enjoyed hearing her grow as a musician.” I’d danced with Fiona to her music many times.
“Fiona and her omega academy friends causing trouble at a club? Gee, I never would’ve thought,” he joked as he waved to someone, but kept going.
“Oh, the academy friends are nothing compared to her assassin brunch buddies.” I rolled my eyes. The shenanigans that came out of those brunches could make even the most patient person break down. There was a good reason they had jokes about causing a war with Russia.
He chuckled. “Of course she has assassin brunch buddies. She’s a handful, but in the best way, isn’t she?”
“That she is. I… I love that girl so much,” I admitted.
Dusty nodded. “I can see that. Do you want to marry her?”
“Oh, I would. Though I’m not sure what her fathers would think,” I said softly as we continued to wander around the festival. “They really want to steer her toward a certain type of alpha. One day, one of them might catch her eye.”
“They could simply join your pack.” Dusty squeezed my hand.
“If they’re okay with me. I’m not afraid of the Gallaghers, though many people are,” I replied. While they were just businessmen, not mafia, they still had a lot of power–and a lot of money.
Though there were plenty of families with more money, power, and influence.
Dusty put an arm around my waist. “Hey, can deltas bond people?”
“We can, but it’s a little complicated. The omega has to bite us first. Once they choose us, we can bond them back–and very briefly bond someone else. Alphas can bond us, too, but we can only bond them back when charged,” I explained.
He put a hand to his heart. “They choose you. I love it.”
“While we’ve always protected and cared for omegas, deltas can be a comfort to traumatized omegas and gammas. Not being able to bond them unless chosen gives them some of their power back. We also can get some extra… abilities… after being chosen,” I told him.
“Oh?” His eyebrows waggled as his glasses slid down his nose.
“We develop more of the pheromones they need, though not as much as alphas. Delta males also, well, they don’t get a knot exactly, but they get a little more down there to help.
Though I’m a female so I won’t exactly be able to help her through her heat the way an alpha male would, even if we bonded.
Did you not learn all this in school?” My eyebrows rose.
He shook his head. “We didn’t go into detail on the rare designations. Also, I went to a performing arts high school. Our alpha classes usually ended up with us doing improv or writing sonnets.”
That made me chuckle. Because I could picture it.
“I know you love Fiona, and it’ll all work out.” He grinned. “Maybe we should form a pack. Protect Fiona from the alphaholes her dads want her to be with.”
Laughing, I play-smacked him. “Not sure you can survive the Gallaghers, especially Finn.”
“I’m not afraid of rich alphas,” he replied.
Such fearlessness. Part of me loved that.
I checked my phone again. The last update from Fiona had been a picture of her naked and a text letting me know that she was taking the guys to bed. There was nothing after that, but given the implications, I didn’t really anticipate one.
Not that I’d expected nudes, either.
Dusty put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure they’re fine. They even got Carlos’ phone. Not sure if it works, but at least someone found it.”
“Yes, I was a little surprised.” While we probably should head back, I was enjoying myself.
We found ourselves back in the Christmas village, but instead of immediately getting drinks or food and finding a place by the fire, we took a look at the vendor stalls.
I browsed a booth full of handmade knitted goods in beautiful traditional patterns.
The tags even indicated the names of the sheep the wool came from.
The hat in my hands had ear flaps, tassels, and a big pom-pom.
I’d brought presents for everyone and put them under the tree, though the ones for Hale and Dusty were generic.
Just like the host gift I’d brought Dusty for bringing us on such a nice holiday.
Even assassins needed good manners, because you never know what situations you might find yourself in.
But had I realized who Carlos’ friend actually was, I might have chosen something I thought he’d like. It would have given him ideas. But was that such a bad thing?
Maybe?
Maybe not.
“Did you want that?” the person said to me in German.
“Yes,” I replied in German, too. “No need to wrap it up,” I added as I paid for it.
“There you are.” Dusty’s arms wrapped around me from behind.
Before I could stop myself, my instincts took over and I flipped him on his ass. A horrified feeling covered me as I saw him lying there on the snowy ground, looking up at me in surprise.
“I’m so sorry. Don’t sneak up on me!” I admonished, offering him a hand up.
Dusty took my hand and let me pull him up. “Don’t sneak up on the Sassy Assassin. Noted.” He nodded as if absorbing some sort of deep wisdom.
“And don’t call me that.” I brushed snow off his ass “Are you okay? Again, I’m sorry. Pure instinct there.”
“I’m fine. That’s a nice move. I might need you to teach me that.” There were no traces of him being mad.
“I got you something. Happy Christmas, Dusty.” I handed him the hat, suddenly anxious. What if he didn’t like it? What if he already had something similar? I had no idea what we were doing here.
Dusty’s face broke out in a huge grin. “You got me a hat? That is amazing. Gracias. Though you already got me that nice bottle of whiskey. Oh, and those snacks.”
He immediately put it on his head. “My head is getting cold anyway given I lost my hat. I hope I don’t lose this one.” His expression went anxious. “I do lose them sometimes. If I lose it, apologies.”
Reaching over, I straightened the hat, untwisting the tassels and fluffing the pom-pom. “It suits you and I do understand that hats and gloves get lost sometimes.”
“Thank you, Mi Cielo.” Putting his arm around me, we continued to browse.
“Why do you call me your sky?” I asked.
“You do speak Spanish.” He grinned. “I knew it.”
“I never said that. You’ve told me what it means before.” I suppressed a smile.
Really there was no reason to hide the fact that I spoke Spanish, other than it was fun to mess with him.
“I call you my sky because you literally fell from the sky.” He guided me towards one of the many booths, this one selling hot wine.
“I didn’t fall from the sky. I rappelled down from a building.” I rolled my eyes, as he got each of us a cup, steam visible in the cold.
He sipped his wine, amused. “Fall from the sky, rappelled from the building, it’s all the same.”
“This is why I call you impossible and ridiculous.” I shook my head.
“I enjoy being impossible and ridiculous for you.” His smile reached all the way to his eyes.
As we sipped our wine we went back to the booth where I bought his hat.
“You need a hat with a pom-pom,” he stated. “Just a pop of color.”
“Color makes you noticeable.” My eyebrows arched. Fiona and I had this discussion on the regular. Not just in regards to me, but why wearing lime green on a job was not the best wardrobe choice for her.
Dusty handed me his cup and started to pick through them. Finally, he held up one in a dark purple. No ear flaps or tassels, but it did have a pom-pom.
“It’s perfect. You like purple.” He made it dance.
“I do,” I admitted. “And when I wear it I do prefer aubergine to lavender."
“I love it.” He paid for it and took off my hat and then placed the new one on my head. Dusty checked his phone. “Ava–Beefy Pot Roast–thinks we should go heckle Vixen Underground. She’s headlining tonight. We toured with her last summer. It’ll be a good show. She always pulls people up on stage.”
“Is she throwing cereal?” I laughed as I put the other hat in my pocket. Vixen Underground's songs were pretty standard at the clubs I’d go to in Ireland.
He shook his head, tassels flying. “Tiny plushies and candy. Her parents own a chain of those claw arcades. If we go now, we can still catch the end of the Functional Alcoholics’ set.”
“They’re still around? I feel like we’re too sober for them,” I joked. “But that sounds fun.”
“After Vixen Underground we can head back to the villa. We don’t need to afterparty.
Or we can get some breakfast first. Maybe even pick some up for them.
We also still have beans, rice, and soup, though we ate all the tamales and enchiladas.
Oooh, we have eggs. Maybe the taco place will sell me some tortillas and I can make chilaquiles? ”
“All of those sound delicious.” Not that I knew what chilaquiles were, but Dusty seemed to be a good cook.
“Oh.” He rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out something.
“Hale gave these to me in case we wanted them for later, given what he’d given us earlier didn’t work.
What do you say? Do you want to take these, do some shots, then go listen to some music?
I’m sure all the stage decor is amazing while high. ”
I checked my phone again, nothing. They were just fine. It was Christmas. I could have some fun. In fact, part of me had been a little disappointed I’d felt nothing with what we’d done at dinner.
Normally, I wouldn’t take the risk of mixing drugs. But Fiona wasn’t with me. The decor would be even better while high.