Looking back and forth between the back of the bar and the man, I let her words register. Raising my brow, I looked at her. “What’s in the back rooms anyway?”
“I’ll let you discover it for yourself.”
“Is it safe?”
“Fuck, no.” She let out a sharp laugh. “Well, actually, I guess it depends on your perspective. It’s safe for you.”
“It is?”
Marina patted my hand like she was talking to a child. “Isn’t the Square always safe for you?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. Nothing had ever happened to me here, but I would never apply “safe” as an attribute of the Square. I glanced at the man again. What had he been doing back there for days? He was still glaring at me. His loss. The back room sounded much more interesting than some huge drunk guy. No matter how good-looking he was.
“Can I go back there?”
She nodded. “Yep. All you needed to do was ask.”
The witch glared at me.
“Knock it off, Devinia. Maybe in your next life, you’ll ascend to a higher life-form. Come back as a slug. I’ll let you in then.”
“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Marina.” I raised my mug and downed the remaining beer.
“Remind yourself, Finn.” She gave me what she probably thought was a kind smile. “Maybe some time in the back rooms will help put all this demon-lover crap to rest and you can move the fuck on.”
With a noncommittal grunt, I left my seat and rounded my corner of the bar. I could see the witch’s hand-tremble increase as I came closer. With a thought, I froze her hands where they were. Her hate-filled stare intensified, but she knew better than to try another spell.
Tall, dark, and handsome watched as I came closer. On second thought, it wouldn’t hurt to have company, someone who at least knew their way around the back room. Maybe I could talk this guy into being my tour guide.
I’ve got something better for you than him. You’re gonna love it. Promise.
The voice threw me off, and I paused stupidly beside where the man was seated. He stood up, towering over me. Maybe even taller than Brett had been… is… was… whatever.
Before I could even open my mouth to inquire, the man’s hand shot out and encircled my throat. He lifted me off the ground and slammed my back into the bar. My body bent so my legs dangled in midair, and my eyes met his bloodshot, unfocused gaze as he leaned over me.
“One more look from you, you fucking little faggot, and I’ll bury this in your skull. Got it?” I heard the click of a switchblade being released and felt the point puncture my ear. “Be doing the world a favor to get rid of one more faggot wetback who only wants to—”
His throat opened up into four parallel gashes, and blood sprayed onto my face, filling my mouth and stinging my eyes.
The witch’s screams pierced my ears. In pure panic, I flung myself away from the man, which only took away my support and left me to crash to the floor.
Spitting and gagging, I pushed up onto my knees and used the backs of my hands and sleeves to get the blood out of my eyes.
His body crumpled to the ground with a wet splat that made my stomach churn.
Through the stinging blood, I could see the ragged slices in his throat, four wicked grins mocking me from below his bulging eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’ve never done anything like that. I didn’t even know my power could do that. I’m so sorry. So sorry.”
“Finn”—I felt Marina’s hands under my arms, trying to pull me up—“what are you talking about? What the fuck are you sorry for?”
I jerked away from her, returning to the man’s dead stare. “I didn’t mean to kill him!”
“I killed him.” The voice was like gravel, deep and low and not at all soothing.
I followed the voice. Behind the man’s body was a pair of black cowboy boots. I followed the dark denim pants up to a stained, muscle-filled tank, then to a wide, square face. “What? Who are you?”
“I said, ‘I killed him.’” He raised his hand, and my eyes involuntarily tracked the motion. Furred hand with long, talon-like claws. I returned to the man’s face.
“Werewolf.”
