I nodded as tears filed my eyes. And then I stumbled back to the bar, my heart feeling bruised, my ego more so. What did I do wrong? And why did a stranger’s rejection make my heart clench?
“Bet you wish you would have taken that shot.” Tarek said with a smirk. “And don’t worry, he can’t help but be an ass, I’m convinced that it’s next to his name in the dictionary, you know, demon, evil, ass, ahhh Timber, there it is!”
I tried laughing past the knot in my throat, it was a pathetic attempt. “A little extreme to call him a demon but yeah… that was… weird.”
“Strap in,” Tarek said under his breath and then he was gone, leaving another shot poured ready for me.
I took it.
Coughed.
And wondered if I should bring Timber something to sober up, only to see him breeze passed me like he hadn’t just downed over two gallons of alcohol. “Tarek make sure she doesn’t burn the place down.”
I suppressed a growl.
Timber stopped at the door and very slowly looked over his shoulder and barked. “Wear more clothes tomorrow.”
I looked down at my jean shorts and crop top. “I thought—”
“Don’t think, do,” he snapped slamming the door behind him.
Tarek held the empty shot glass in front of my face. “One more before your double shift.”
“Like it will help.”
“Let’s just say I’ll make sure it does…” he said cryptically and oddly enough, I trusted he would.
And even weirder?
I made the most tips I’d ever made at any bartending job.
And I actually felt good for the next eight hours.
I forgot all about my parents moving to another country.
I forgot about the disappointment they tried to hide whenever they asked if I’d found a job I liked or a guy that didn’t completely turn me off. The answer was always no, I was always anxious, always moving, always searching.
Until now.
Until that night, even after the rejection, something about Soul felt right.
Like the world was a happier place than I originally thought.
Like I had a place in it.
TIMBER
It was two seconds.
Her touch.
Long enough for the room to spin, for my world to tilt as a mirage of rainbow-like colors erupted in my line of vision, they surrounded her like an aura, one that pulsed in perfect cadence to the tattoo on my hand.
Disconcerting, that’s what it was.
Kyra was hiding something, or worse, it had been hidden from her, meaning she was a pawn in a very dangerous game that I wanted no part of. I thought that the games were over now that the werewolves were in their rightful place, now that the Watchers were done fighting us.
The main war was over.