Even though a drink right now would be delightful. Especially since it’ll likely ease the pain in my hand.
He asks for a beer when he’s served but doesn’t leave after he’s been given his drink.
“I have to say,” He leans on the bar casually, like we’re old friends. “You don’t seem to be Malakai’s type at all.”
Hackles raised, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
Brows shoot up at my tone and I resist the urge to shrink. I feel incredibly vulnerable right now, with an injured hand and already a little emotional over the fact I just hit someone. I could cry. I want Malakai.
It’s that realization that has my spine straightening. I want him. Right now.
He’s strength and safety in the most profound wayconsidering he’s the most dangerous man I know. But for me? He isn’t a monster.
He isn’t the devil.
For me he is a rock. He is a net to catch me, a crutch to hold me up.
He’s never once made me feel weak.
Though he absolutely could if he wanted to.
I’ve been looking at him all wrong, like having him by my side is a bad thing. But in fact, him as my husband, no matter how it came about, is a strength I didn’t know I was missing. My heart starts to pound inside my chest, and I glance at the door again.
“How interesting,” Stefan comments, drawing my attention once more. “You’re falling in love with him.”
He says it in a way that makes it appear like a weakness, like it’s a plight.
“I wish you well, Olivia.”
His words hold no warmth. There’s an undertone of violence, a bite of something that makes me incredibly wary.
Since Malakai isn’t coming back and I can’t see him, I search for anyone else, thankfully capturing the gaze of Killian who isn’t looking at Savannah for the first time tonight.
I plead with as much as I can for him to come to me and it must be enough because his eyes move to Stefan who still hasn’t left, even though his last statement was one said in farewell and then he’s getting up, striding toward me, long legs eating up the space.
He is darkness and violent intent, “Olivia,” He says, slotting himself in the space between Stefan and me, “You okay?”
I shake my head subtly, but lie and answer, “Good. How are you?”
“Parched,” Killian answers, before he gives his attention to the other man, “Stefan.”
Stefan doesn’t answer but does push off the bar, glancing once more at me before he starts to head for the door.
“Stay away from him,” Killian warns me.
I quirk a brow, “You think I wanted that conversation?”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing,” I shift the ice on my hand, “I just get bad vibes from him.”
“Good.” Killian nods. “Heard you smacked Regina.”
“Sebastian?”
Killian grins, “Gave her a nice bloody lip. But how the fucking hell did you damage your hand so bad?”
I roll my eyes at him, “I’ve never hit anybody! I don’t know how to!”
