“Oh, really? How do you know them? Like…how’d you meet up if you didn’t come with them?” Because they’d clearly known one another at least a little.
I was still trying to tap into that feeling, to pin it down, as it were. Buoyancy was as close as I could get. It made me feel lighter than normal, almost like I might drift into the sky. This couldn’t be normal. Damarion was hot, but he wasn’t hot enough to make me float.
“We all felt the summons, and I met them on the way.”
“Mmm. Mhm.”
My thoughts turned to the attack yesterday. They’d been magical workers. One had gotten away, a mediocre mage, and if he’d escaped, wasn’t it possible a higher-caliber mage might have gotten away too?
I glanced around at the couples and families, spying nothing out of the ordinary. No one glanced up out of curiosity or from darker intentions. No one within my view was sitting alone.
In fairness, why would someone who was out to cause me harm or capture me make me feel as light as a feather? What would be the point?
“How’d you meet them, then?” I asked absently, taking in more details of the scene, just to be safe.
We’d been given a fairly private table, with a wall behind Damarion’s chair, plus a half wall directly to my right. Behind me, four of the five tables were taken, two couples, a group of three with a young girl, and a group of older ladies.
“What’s the matter?”
I lowered my enormous menu, thinking about who was on the other side of that wall, when my stomach fluttered and the feeling died away, like getting over nervousness.
I frowned, pausing. Maybe it had been the adrenaline from the car ride mixed with nervousness. It hadn’t felt threatening, in any case.
Before I could think further, the waitress approached us, a woman in her mid-twenties wearing the same black vest and white shirt as the host. Lust flashed in her eyes the instant she noticed Damarion.
Something tight and uncomfortable lodged in my belly, and it wasn’t magic this time. Despite the upgrade to my physical level, I wasn’t nearly as attractive as this girl. And although I was once again flexible in a literal sense, I wasn’t bendable to other people’s whims in the way I’d been at twenty. What would a hot, younger guy like this want with a woman walking through the door of forty?
Power. Prestige.
The words floated up from within me, popping like little bubbles in a glass of champagne, but a dark mood had already settled on me. A mood that questioned what, exactly, I thought I was doing showing myself off in a sparkly dress and running around with a man in his prime. It pissed me off that I felt that way—that I bought into the notion that certain things were “improper” for a woman my age, but it was harder to shake off society’s shackles than I would have liked.
“Did you get a chance to look at our wine list?” the waitress asked, and I belatedly noticed a little booklet tucked between a little cowboy figurine and the half wall. They’d gone a little far with the Wild West theme, truth be told. If Austin had been my dining partner, I would have said so, but I had a feeling Damarion would just grunt or nod.
“Oh no, I—”
“We will have a bottle of the Migration Pinot Noir,” Damarion said. “Water, please, as well, no ice.”
“Of course.” The waitress flashed him a winning smile that he didn’t notice.
“Mr. Tom mentioned that Migration was your favorite,” Damarion said, his eyes traveling over my face. “I called ahead and made sure they had it.”
15
My dark mood hadn’t lightened too much through dinner. Damarion had ordered for me again, steaks for each of us with a baked potato, butter, sour cream, and no chives. Apparently Mr. Tom had said I liked that dish. Which was mostly fine, since I’d intended to order it anyway, but also a little annoying.
“We won’t stay long,” Damarion said with grim determination as we pulled up to the warm glow of Austin’s bar.
The familiarity of it came as a relief, even more so because Niamh sat in her usual seat. The spot beside her—the one I always sat in when I showed up—was still empty even though the bar was otherwise full.
“Hey,” I said to Niamh as I stopped behind the empty chair. Paul stood down the way, shaking a silver drink mixer, but there was no sign of Austin.
“Well, how’r’u? What’s the craic?” She caught sight of Damarion, his expression closed down into an uncomfortable mask and his biceps pushing at his blazer, clearly flexed to match his fists. How he and Austin met hadn’t seemed to weigh any lighter on him. That, or he didn’t like Niamh. It really could’ve been either. “Damarion, how was dinner? Did she let you order fer her?” She zeroed in on my best buddy, sitting next to the open seat. “Sasquatch, ye dirty bollocks, ya. Go down to the end. Open up that seat.”
He scowled at her, no doubt annoyed she wasn’t using his real name. Unlike Mr. Tom, he hadn’t asked for the change.
“I was here first,” he grumbled as Austin came around the corner from the back, two bottles of vodka in his hands. He caught sight of me, but his small smile slipped away when he noticed Damarion at my side.
“But ye won’t be there last, will ye?” Niamh said. “Jessie will make you leave, now ye know she will.”
“She has a seat right there.” He nodded down at the open place.
“Yes, but her very large, fine man would also like to sit, or didn’t ye notice the grumpy gargoyle standing at yer back?”
Sasquatch’s shoulders tensed as he slowly looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Damarion, who was in some weird, silent standoff with Austin.
My nemesis hunched in his place but didn’t move. “I don’t care. He can’t do anything to me. Neither of them can. I didn’t insult her or bad-mouth her or push her or anything. I didn’t break any rules. I was here first, so I get to stay.”
Damarion’s eyes came around. Finally realizing the issue, he reached forward, grabbed the back of Sasquatch’s shirt, and yanked him. Sasquatch’s shirt ripped but held, pulling the guy back and off the stool, and he rolled across the floor.
Niamh jumped up and grabbed me, pulling me out of the way, and not a moment too soon. The next events happened so fast that at first I couldn’t do much more than widen my eyes and blink stupidly.
Austin lunged forward over the bar and grabbed Damarion with both hands, dragging him up and over the barrier. In a show of dizzying strength, he then lifted the huge gargoyle over his head and slammed him down onto the bar, crushing glass and spilling drinks beneath him.
Damarion grabbed Austin, twisting in such a way that he threw him over the bar. But Austin hadn’t released his grip on Damarion, and he pulled the gargoyle with him.
Their bodies knocked people out of the way, sending them reeling, before they both crashed onto the floor. Austin punched Damarion square in the face, the crack making it clear he’d broken Damarion’s nose. The gargoyle was already throwing his own punch, though, and it landed on Austin’s jaw with a pop that made my knees weak.
Adrenaline blasted through me.
“Go,” I yelled at everyone backing away from the two men. A pulse of my magic sent everyone scattering for the pool area. Everyone this time, including those on the outskirts.
I magically yanked the bar doors closed, apparently not needing to be in Ivy House for that sort of trick to work anymore, and slid a magical barrier between the pool area and the bar to keep everyone put. Well, everyone but me and Niamh.
Austin smashed his fist across Damarion’s face. But Damarion didn’t look like he felt it, as he threw Austin off him, sending him crashing into the wall. Austin slid down halfway before bouncing up, but he wasn’t on his feet for more than a moment before Damarion was up and plowing into him.
They hit the wall, shaking the whole place, exchanging punches faster than two boxers in the ring. Fear gripped my guts. I’d never witnessed this kind of intense brutality close up between people I knew and cared about.
My mind snapped back to the million or so schoolyard fights I’d broken up. Other mothers would scream and wring their hands, leaving me to wade in and shove everyone aside. Of course, those kids had been weak and easily controlled—these man-kids were a force to be reckoned with.
Screw it.
I pushed forward, determined. Niamh plucked at my dress to keep me still, but I shrugged her off, hoping none of my lady bits fell out.
Austin landed a punch to Damarion’s ribs. Crack.
“Enough!” I shoved my hands apart, magic blistering within the room.
Austin’s hand flung sideways, and he jerked back from an invisible force—me. Damarion struggled to push through and get at Austin, but he only hit hard air.
“Stop!” I kicked off my shoes, needing to be grounded, and stepped up to the dueling alphas. They kept fighting my magic, and it felt as though they were scratching my flesh.
“Enough!” Electricity crackled. Sparks flared. My rush of anger filled the room to bursting. “You’re acting like children! Knock it off.”
Damarion stepped forward, shoving the wall of my magic. Austin slashed the air, shattering my hold entirely for an instant.
I gritted my teeth and strengthened the magic wedged between them, the wall now spitting fire if they reached forward and touched it.
Damarion, his whole body flexed, his eyes on fire, dropped his arms to his sides, responding to my force. But Austin pushed forward, his jaw broken, his determination unshakeable, his power still trumping mine. I hadn’t learned enough to best him.
My jaw ached from how hard my teeth were clenched together.
“Please, Austin,” I said, appealing to him as a friend. “I know this is your bar and you have the right to enforce your law, but please stand down just this once. For me. I need him.”
He cocked his head, cracking his neck, his gaze never leaving Damarion. His fists clenched and his pecs popped. The dark side of his beast had emerged, and I knew he felt the compulsion to sink down into it and fight until a victor emerged.