She pressed her lips forcefully against his, one hand tangling in his hair, the other clutching his shirt, drawing him closer.
He needed this to end on good terms to avoid any potential damage. And besides, her lips made an incredibly powerful argument.
So, he kissed her back.
“I think we need to discuss this further,” Sarah said against his mouth. “Is there anywhere a little more private?”
Felix grinned. “Of course.”
He took her by the hand and led her through the pub toward the staircase, but they only made it to the first step when the door to the street opened, the sounds of the city pouring inside.
Out of reflex, Felix turned, studying the two wiry men. Both rough, working-class types.
Every so often, a rowdy group of nonwielders would wander in, eager to stir up trouble, gawk at the creatures who frequented the place. And judging by the disgusted twists to their mouths, these two were of that mindset. He tensed, not just anticipating a fight—hopingfor one.
But his ma was already on it. “Welcome, gentlemen,” she called over the sounds of the other patrons. She placed two glasses on the bar top. “What can I get for ya?”
Felix had inherited a lot of things from Petra Connolly. His light hair, his flawless teeth, the scattering of freckles that only appeared in the summer. But her patience had definitely eluded him. He’d mastered every nuance of the role he played, with the exception of his temper. That was still a work in progress.
The men shared a look, then crossed to the bar and dropped onto the stools.
“I’m going to walk you home,” Felix told Sarah. “Would you mind meeting me outside?”
Her lips pursed.
“I just need two minutes. Please.”
“Fine, but we still have more to discuss, so don’t be long.” She waited for him to agree, then turned and headed outside.
Felix crossed back through the pub and sat at the bar beside the men. His ma gave him a warning look, and he responded with a playful tilt of his head, feigning innocence.
She knew him well enough not to believe it.
The men ordered, and while one scanned the place, the other studied his ma.
“You’re not a wielder,” he said, not bothering with subtleties.
“I’m not,” she replied dryly as she poured them drinks.
Neither of Felix’s parents were. Magic wasn’t passed down through bloodlines. It was chaotic. Religious wielders believed they were hand-picked by Arunas to be her eyes and hands until she reappeared to save them, but Felix didn’t buy into any of that.
“Then why would you let your pub become a den for these animals?”
Felix forced himself still.
“Why would I turn away paying customers?” she replied, confused, like this was the first time anyone had mentioned it.
It wasn’t.
“Because they’re dangerous.” He took up the glass, watching over the rim as she set the bottle down and bent forward to rest her elbows on the bar.
Her mouth tipped in a half-smile as she poured herself a glass. “As am I, hon.”
The tension on the man’s face broke. He chuckled and gave her an evaluative once-over, gaze lingering too long on the neckline of her dress. “Yeah, I’m sure you are.”
“Is there anything else I can get you?” his ma asked, voice honeyed.
“Just got my week’s pay,” the man said. “Could use someone to warm my bed.”
