I scooted closer to my friend, eating up every little bit of his life he was willing to share. On my other side, Rowan slid closer to me. Boldly, I slipped my hands around their waists. It wasn’t my fault. XanRa was conditioning me to love a manwich. Neither of my friends moved away from me, and my heart did a happy dance.
I laughed—at what? I wasn’t sure—and then we were standing. Shit, I was drunk. I linked my arms with Cayden and Rowan and felt like a little kid between them. I suddenly wanted to see if I could do a flip. But I was an adult… but did I need to be an adult?
Old Quinn had been so boring. New Quinn did flips. I was going to see if I could use them as poles, and spin like I’d never gotten to as a toddler.
My laughter still echoed in my chest when Cayden’s runes began to glow, and everything shifted.
A swarm of gray camo-clad bodies spilled onto The Mile.
My friends let go, and the world tilted. I fought to stay upright.
Drunk, shit.
Cayden sketched matching runes into the air, connecting the final point with practiced speed. He smacked one down on his stomach, and the second soared toward Rowan, hitting the big elemental’s side and vanishing.
Rowan shifted uncomfortably before pressing his hand against his lower abdomen. “Really? It makes you sober, but now I need to piss?”
“The liquid has to go somewhere.” Cayden danced in place.
Despite the shifting gray colors around me, I giggled.
My friends blurred, and suddenly, I couldn’t see past their stupidly big backsides. I wobbled, trying to stay on my feet. My intoxicated brain struggled to comprehend the danger.
A streak of black magic whipped to my left, followed by a flash of dirty pink and pumpkin orange. The ground trembled, and yells filled the air. Blood-red magic darted across my vision. Hero bellowed, anda blood-red dome covered him and his twin before they disappeared from sight. A moss-green ball of burning rage kicked and punched at their backs.
“Go Brit!” I slurred, finally managing enough balance to pump my fist. But we weren’t at her pit fight. This was something else.
In front of me, Rowan grunted, and a man appeared beside my friend, lunging at me. The world slowed down. His coal-black eyes snapped into focus.
My body froze. That face…
A memory surged like a blade to the spine.
A square of light appeared in the dark basement, followed by a massive man climbing down a ladder. A few women wept, while another started violently cursing. The man, dressed in gray camo, made his way through the bound women. Slowly, his long, salt-and-pepper hair became clearer, framing his dirty face. Crows’ feet lined his glowing coal-black eyes. It was hard to see anything beyond those cold pits of raw power boring into me.
“Aren’t you a lucky girl,” the man said.
He grabbed the back of my layers of coats with one hand and picked me up like I weighed nothing. I dangled in his grip as he carried me toward the square of light.
He dropped me dead center, and I collapsed into a pile. In one smooth motion, he squatted down and hauled me up so my face was even with his. His thin lips curled up, exposing a set of yellow teeth that sparkled with gold. With his free hand, he unclasped the collar around my neck before grabbing the same spot with his meaty fist.
“I like them limp.” He licked his lip. “You’re perfect.”
His coal-black eyes pinched, and something hot and slimy stabbed into my back. He reached under my shirt, but the moment his cold fingers touched my skin, I panicked, and the worldfaded to black.
I snapped out of the memory, only to wish I hadn’t.
Pain radiated from my neck where the same man’s meaty fist wrapped almost all the way around it. His sparkling gold grin twinkled. I fought to breathe, and my arms and legs pinwheeled, which didn’t help anything.
The crushing grip vanished, ripped away in a blur of motion. Rowan’s body slammed into Coal-black with bone-crunching force. I hit the cobblestones hard, the air whooshing from my lungs in a single, desperate wheeze.
Cayden’s hands blurred, but while he drew, another man in gray slipped past him. The camo-clad stranger reached for me as if I were just a toy he could take. His hands came around my waist and squeezed painfully. I wasn’t some limp rag doll anymore. I had magic!
He started to lift me. His greasy, espresso-colored bun flopped on his head, and his rancid breath filled my nose. But I wasn’t scared. I was drunk and could teleport!
No man could hold me.
My magic flowed.
