“Hey, babe,” he replied, easy and confident.
His blistering passion at the dominance she was displaying cut away, as did Jessie’s sudden surge of heat. She’d made their link private, keeping her emotions—and his—to an independent line, no longer shared amongst the whole crew.
A soft breeze blew through the stagnant air, carrying the smell of daffodils and crisp mountain mornings. The pain eased from Niamh’s spine. A little thrill of adrenaline wormed through her blood, giving her a shock of energy. The bubbles resumed their slide across her skin, pleasant again. A sense of peace filled Niamh as Jessie smiled.
“Good to see you,” Jessie said to Austin as she finally lowered into her seat.
Ulric shook himself a little before stepping forward and pushing in Jessie’s chair. The pressure from around Niamh ceased, her ability to move restored as the magic ebbed from the room.
Gasps sounded from down the bar, the Dicks and Janes clearly freaked out or at least very confused by what had happened.
“Go sort that out,” Niamh told Ulric.
“Yep. Life of the party, coming right up.” Ulric peeled away.
Jessie took a deep breath and looked around. The link opened back up, and a thread of confusion leaked through it.
“Want a drink?” Austin asked her, recapturing her attention.
“Oh, uh…yeah.” Jessie frowned, tilting her head to the side, and glanced behind her. “I just told everyone to…be silent…right? My head went foggy there for a moment. Is my magic getting away from me again?”
“And why wouldn’t ye tell them so?” Niamh said, holding up her glass, the ice nearly melted. “With all that screeching down there, ye couldn’t get a word in edgewise, so ye couldn’t.”
“What do you say we duck out of here early and I make you dinner?” Austin asked her, reaching behind the bar to grab Niamh a cider.
“Get two,” Niamh said. “Who knows when the other yuk-ups will make their way down here again.”
He pulled out another without looking, his eyes on Jessie as she smiled. “That sounds amazing,” she said to Austin. “Do you mind if I have a glass of wine first? I’ve had a day.”
“Of course. I’ll come around and join you.” He pulled out a bottle of Merlot and poured two glasses then pushed them across the bar and winked. “Be right there.”
Jessie frowned again, watching him go. “He winked.”
“Did ye fall on a rock and hit yer head? Why are ye so slow all of a sudden?” Niamh stared at her glass for a moment. He hadn’t freshened up her ice. What a balls. They needed to get this mating thing out of the way so they could go back to being functioning adults. Watery cider was just ridiculous.
“No, but”—Jessie picked up her glass of wine—“alphas don’t show that kind of emotion. It invites challenges.”
No one in their right mind would challenge either of them after Jessie’s show of power. It was quite prestigious for anyone to land an alpha, but everyone in this bar was quickly realizing that it was just as prestigious to land a female gargoyle.
That would’ve filled Niamh with pride if the heir’s magic hadn’t just given her a good rattle, and if she didn’t now have watery cider. The joy of her position had gone out of her. She just hoped those Janes at the end of the bar kept their wandering eyes and especially their hands to themselves until Jessie and Austin Steele got out of there. Niamh liked seeing fireworks, but she didn’t like being blown up by them.
Four
I slouched against the chair and sipped my wine, happy for the background noise of other people chattering. Mr. Tom had been doing my head in, quizzing me on various spells, randomly trying to attack me to see if I could defend myself, going over various clothing options for the trip, and asking if I might want to take Nathanial or a gargoyle in town for a sexual spin for comparison reasons. I think the pressure was getting to the guy. His grip on reality was starting to fray.
After all that, he’d had the gall to ask if I’d “finally” gotten around to deciding how I wanted to reoutfit the house.
I didn’t care about home décor! I was about to stumble my way into an impossible situation, and I was starting to lose sleep thinking about the danger I was putting everyone in. It would be better if I went alone, took a magical kill shot at Elliot, and hoped for the best. End of story. If someone went down, it should be me and only me.
“You good?”
Austin’s rough voice washed over me in the best of ways. I closed my eyes as his hand touched down on my shoulder and drifted across my back, dropping to rest on the back of the chair. I turned a little, dipping my fingers into his pocket and resting my hand there, pulling him a little closer until his side was pressed flush to my shoulder.
“Yeah. You?” I asked, looking up at his handsome face.
“Very. Should I grab a chair?”
He was asking how long we’d be.
My stomach flipped as I thought of him cooking dinner for me. Of what would absolutely happen once we were finished eating.
“No. Just one drink, I think.”
He nodded and reached around me to grab his glass. “So. You took down the phoenix, huh?”
My mood darkened. I scowled at Niamh. “I didn’t have much choice. It was that or die.”
“Bollocks,” Niamh said. “She was fartin’ around the whole time until she finally got her head out of her arse and finished things up.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t bother to comment. I’d already yelled as much as I cared to. She hadn’t backed down then, and I knew she wasn’t likely to have a sudden change of heart.
“One shot?” Austin said, swishing my hair across my shoulders. He stroked my cheek, and I closed my eyes and savored the sensation, my heart leaping, his heart beating right beside mine in my chest.
“Mhm,” I murmured.
“You did better than I did,” he said.
I laughed, my eyes fluttering open again. “Hardly. I didn’t get the shot off until after she nearly choked me to death.”
“That Cyra is tough, boy,” Niamh said. “Jessie raked her across the middle, nearly tore her throat out, and battered her around—she just held on until she couldn’t anymore. Everyone knows female phoenixes have more power than the males, but Hollace says she’s also one of the oldest and most vicious of the females. Her soul has been around for ages.”
The link with Austin sparkled with pride. “And now both of the alphas of this territory have taken her down.”
“I’m not so sure I could do it again,” I said.
“Ah, would ye schtawp.” Niamh gave the ceiling a long-suffering look.
“Was that English?” I asked with a grin.
“Janie Mack, ye’re driven me mental, so ye are. Go have dinner. Austin Steele, if ye’re goin’ta have all these people in this bar all the time, ye’re gonna need more bartenders.”
A woman in her early twenties staggered a little as she climbed the steps from the lower area with the pool table and the bathrooms to the main bar area, from which the pool table had been removed a while ago to create space for the crowds. Been there, done that. She was one of the Janes and definitely a tourist.
I sipped my wine, nearly finished, losing sight of her within the throng of people.
“Are you over capacity?” I asked, pulling my fingers from Austin’s pocket and tracing them up his hard side.
He glanced around, taking in the crowd. I caught sight of the woman again, all hips and breasts, her miniskirt barely covering her crotch and her tube top covering just a strip of her middle. Her jewelry glittered, layered on her chest. I watched, transfixed like a magpie, an effect of my exhaustion. I could think of at least three outfits I had that would look great with that collection of jewelry. If only it was in vogue to steal so I wouldn’t have to go shopping.
It didn’t dawn on me that she had drifted a little too close until Austin stiffened, curling his hand around my far shoulder and turning, using body language to advertise that he was with me. I looked at her face; her makeup was a bit smeared from heavy drinking and her lips twisted in a hungry though taunting sort of way.
“Mmm, I like me an older man,” she purred, slowing.
I could feel my eyebrows lowering and wondered if she thought that was a flattering thing to say, calling Austin an older man. Didn’t men take that as the insult women had been taught to?
But when her gaze roamed his broad shoulders, dipped to his defined chest, evident even through his nondescript cotton top, and settled on his package, the logical part of my brain dimmed. Rage as hot as Cyra’s magma bubbled up out of nowhere. My whole being throbbed with it, pulsing with power.
My scope of vision reduced down to the woman, turning a little as she slunk by, her fingertips trailing across her cleavage, tinkling those stylish necklaces. Her predatory gaze darted to me.
She had no idea what a predator really was.
She had no idea who she was challenging.
I pushed Austin away and stood from my seat, power pumping, ballooning out. That distant part of me, the logical part, screamed at me to stop. To control the magic. To reel it back in.
I shouldn’t reveal my power to so many innocent bystanders, and I definitely couldn’t go after a Jane!
But none of that would register.
My wings itched at my back, my gargoyle threatening to claw its way out, and a pinkish-purple sheen vibrated into being around my body, trailing my movements.
I could have sworn a bell rang in the distance. A death knell. I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, or if Ivy House was fueling the fire, telling me to protect what was mine.
Mine.
A stocky woman with white-blonde hair—Isabelle—stepped forward suddenly and rammed into the younger woman, knocking her sideways into a crowd of male shifters watching the scene with grim faces. She screamed as she tried to correct on four-inch stilettos, but the excessive alcohol hindered her movements. She scrabbled at one of the shifters as she fell, trying to grasp an arm or a hand.