And they had another ten years of the same treatment.
“They drugged you,” Asher said, the first words he’d spoken in hours. He’d been back to asshole Asher today, but that was okay. It helped me focus on getting through my testimony about what happened. “I can already tell you’re feeling sorry for them. Don’t. They don’t deserve it. This is exactly what they need to realize that their actions have consequences.’
Fury hit me hard. “Do you realize that, Asher? Actions have consequences. It’s a lesson everyone”—especially you—“needs to learn.”
His glare would have ripped me to pieces months ago, but I was used to it now. I’d built a little barrier around my emotions, and no longer was I completely dependent on him.
“I know it better than you think,” he said, and I wanted to believe that was sadness in his voice, but—
Princeps Jones cleared his throat, and I swallowed down my embarrassment at having this argument in front of him. “We’ll head back to the Academy in the morning,” he said quickly. “I have some business here to take care of this afternoon. You two should go out and have a look around the town.”
I snorted. “Yeah, I think I’ve had just about enough of Asher’s company. Thanks, though.”
I wasn’t planning on staying in my room or anything. I would explore on my own. No Asher. Before the Atlantean dick could give me some sort of smartass reply, I was up and out of the small cafeteria. The coffee in here was shit anyway, and I needed to escape, so I took off for my room. I changed out of the formal dress and into some tight jeans and a simple white shirt. My purple hair flashed at me, almost mockingly. I’d expected so much from the year of purple. Why, after everything pink put me through, I had no idea. But here we were, halfway through the year, and I’d lost my mate and fucking died.
I mean, seriously.
Drunk. I needed to get drunk immediately.
Once my boots were on, I left the room, deliberately not looking at Asher’s door.
The supernatural prison town was not large, consisting of what I would call a main street with shops on either side, cute diners, and some expensive restaurants. There was also a small mall with a grocery store, a movie theatre, and five bars.
When I stepped inside the first dimly-lit room, I immediately relaxed. This was what I needed. Darkness, anonymity, and mindless alcohol-induced fun. There were half a dozen tables scattered around, a few of them taken up by … shifters. Wolf this time. There was also a lone vampire in the corner nursing his red-tinged beer, and a witch laughing with her friends in another booth at the back of the room. It was just dark outside, and I sensed that the crowd would only grow here. So I took a seat next to the only other supe in the room, a blond man nursing what looked like scotch.
A troll strolled across immediately, still polishing a few glasses. He eyed me for a beat. “Who are you?” he said in rough, broken English.
“None of your fucking business is who I am,” I snapped back. I had a lot of pent-up anger. It was going to go somewhere if I didn’t get a drink.
I slammed fifty euros on the bar. “Bring me a bottle of something that will get me drunk.”
The troll eyed me again like he was searching for something before he shrugged and dropped a bottle of something dark and thick on the wood bar. “Don’t cause any trouble,” were his final words as he strolled off.
Chuckling at the fact that I was now as obnoxious as a troll, I reached over the bar and grabbed a shot glass. The dude next to me gave me a guarded look, and I saw enough to note that he was model beautiful and a shifter. Of what variety, I couldn’t tell, but he had a very Braxton vibe about him. It really didn’t matter. I wasn’t there to make friends. I was there to … forget.
“Ugh, gods,” I said as the first shot burned down my throat. “What the fuck is this?”
I looked at the bottle again and could have sworn that the stranger at my side grinned. “Maybe the next one will be better,” I decided out loud, filling the glass again. “Nope.” I coughed. “Definitely not.”
This time he definitely smiled, and it changed that tough-guy pretty-boy exterior into something that was beyond hot. Not Asher hot, but I could tell that pretty much every woman in the world—supe or not—would want to bang this dude.
If only I wasn’t in love with an asshole, that banging might have been done by me.
“You should have asked for the fey wine,” he said, not looking at me, staring into his drink. His voice was husky and low without any discernable accent, and I scented burning embers when I leaned closer.
I wanted to ask him if he was a dragon shifter, but considering how rare they were, I doubted that was the case. And I knew that asking race, in some places, was considered rude. Like … you should already know, and if you didn’t, it was probably because they didn’t want you to know.
“Yeah.” I slammed down another shot, coughing again. “Somehow I don’t think trollie over there is feeling friendly enough to exchange the bottle now.”
A few more shots later the intense bitter flavor of the alcohol had faded, and it was getting easier for me to relax and brush off the stress of today. Of my life in general.
“What’s your name?” I asked the stranger I’d been drinking in silence with for the past hour. Unlike me, trollie liked this guy, refilling his drink before he even finished the previous one.
The shifter didn’t reply, and I shrugged, because I really didn’t care. “Rayge,” he murmured a moment later, and I swallowed hard.
“Rage … like … a really fucking angry person.”
His lips twitch again. “Yes. That would be accurate. My name is spelled with ay, but otherwise … accurate.”
