When he says ‘I’ll be in attendance’, I know what he really means. He means I’m disposable. There’s a reason why they would have me do this task instead of any of them. I don’t refute the order he gives, even though I have a thousand questions simmering within me.
I simply nod.
I nod to him the way I would Armond because I know that’s what is expected of me. I’m their teammate but right now I’m in a trial phase. If I succeed; congratulations, another task will be assigned to break you. If I fail; congratulations. You’re dead.
Sixteen
Drunken Mistakes
The night passes slowly.It’s late and I should go back to the League but I can’t find the energy to. There’s an event being held. One I was intentionally left out of…
I’m still sulking in the kitchen. I spent the day trying to glean information from the guys, but they were careful to keep me on the edge of their precious little group. I have no more information this evening than I had this morning. Lucky for me I found the single most powerful thing in the entire house.
Liquor.
It isn’t lost on me that it’s a half a bottle of Jameson. The bottle meets my lips and just as I take another drink, Jameson himself walks in.
“Mmm you look good like that.” His half-smirk has me rolling my eyes even as I swallow another big drink.
It burns down every inch of my throat before settling warmly in my stomach. My arms cross, still clinging to the bottle as I stare at him in the dark kitchen. Streaks of pale moonlight wash over his smooth skin, shadowing each defined line on his stomach.
When I start to notice how long I’ve been staring at him, I suddenly realize I’ve drank a bit too much.
“What’s Rory’s deal? Why’s he so damn moody?” I narrow my gaze on him, trying harder to see him.
He stalks closer to me, taking the bottle from my hand. The smooth skin of his lower stomach brushes against my arm as he tips the bottle back and takes a drink. The column of his throat is exposed to me and I can’t help but study the lines of his collar bones, the curve of his biceps, the strong veins of his forearm.
Oh my god, I have got to stop drinking.
His tongue slips along his lips as he hands the alcohol back over. His palms press to the shining granite countertop and he pushes himself onto my favorite spot with ease.
With less grace, I shove myself onto the counter as well. He steadies me with his hand along my elbow, smirking at me as I settle in next to him.
“Rory is… different.” His tone isn’t teasing for once. He sounds entirely serious. “I think all assassins are powerful. It’s like his mark is inked deeper than others, though.” With a big hand he pushes his pale hair from his face as he considers his friend’s abilities. “While most of us have to put effort into using our power, he has to put thought into containing it. He’s tense because he’s physically holding himself together. I saw him crumple a ship once. The whole damn thing. He sunk it like a rock. It was both amazing and terrifying.”
My brows raise and I take another sip.
Huh, maybe I should cut him some slack. Or, at the very least, not piss him off.
Maybe I should give all of them a break. Jameson isn’t half bad actually. He’s kind of nice to talk to when he isn’t being a total fuckstick.
“What’s your ability like?” He peers at me from beneath his long lashes.
I get the feeling this is going to turn into another awful one liner from him, but as I said, I’m going to start giving them the benefit of the doubt.
“It’s interesting. Helpful. Tingling.”
“Show me.” The thin material of his sweatpants brushes my thigh as he turns closer to me.
I swallow down the thick aftertaste of the alcohol and put all of my hazy attention into trying to stop time. The soft glow of pale light warms my palms.
I feel it click right through me the moment it halts. It presses against my chest. An energy alive with power courses through my veins. My fingers skim my hip and I realize I never put my pocket watch back on. A small feeling of worry sinks through me. Then I remember the notes on Armond’s desk. I’ll never wear that damn watch again.
I push aside the angry thoughts and find that Jameson is at my side, frozen within my powers. I boop him on his nose once for good measure and there isn’t a thing he can do about it.
I consider pushing him right off the counter as well, but I have to put serious work into turning over that new leaf and being a better person and yadda, yadda and such.
As I put the bottle to my lips once more, I release my hold on time.
