Slap!
Keeffe’s face whipped to the side.
“For luck’s sake, woman!” Fingers rubbed at the newly reddening cheek. “What the bloody hell was that for!?” His words were angry, yet a shadow of a giddy smile remained.
“For—” Aine stopped, fixing her dress. “For—I don’t know! I just felt like it!”
I burst into a fit of laughter. Which surprisingly distracted my whirlpooling nausea.
“Feel better?” I teased, giving Aine a proud nod. “Also, side note—how long has Breena been up there?” We both glanced at the diva on stage. She was on her back, kicking her legs up in choreographed motions.
Aine let out a breath, completely ignoring Keeffe’s existence again as he eyed her.
“Actually? I feel incredible,” she said, shaking her hand out with a small smile, then nodded toward Breena’s stage. “She rolled royal blue—Dealer’s Choice. Bartender was lenient and dared her to dance for sixty-seconds. But, it’s been twenty minutes now.” Aine rolled her eyes. “Guaranteed she’ll catchsome ailment by the end of the week—she’s stuck her tongue down four throats already. If she keeps this up, the club might actually give her a neon-glowy coffin to dance in. She’ll be thrilled.” Aine’s words were like a mother’s scorn.
My next chuckle had me grabbing my stomach as it stirred.
Ugh.
“I’m gonna head out. Let Breena know payback’s a bitch!” I grunted.
“That it will be . . .” Aine’s returning grin was devilish, calculating. “Though, I’m not letting ya go off alone. Why don’t you wait. We’ll get going now too. If we’re able to pull her off that luck-forsaken bar,” she grumbled.
Finley stepped away from an amused chat with Keeffe.
“I’ll walk her home!” he said, winking in my direction. “Promise she’ll be safe with me.”
I looked up at him, feeling a long-forgotten tension in my chest.
Aine blinked, considering. “Good. Because if ya don’t—you’ll be Sunday’s roast.” Her teeth flashed maliciously.
It tooka solid twenty minutes to go three blocks. My steps were staggering, and at times, nearly tumbling.
Leaving the club was like stepping across a magical boundary—portaling me into Inebriation Land. Reality hit me like a cinderblock to the face, that reeked of liquor and promised vomit.
Finley seemed oddly charmed by me being a hot mess. Poor guy had to steady me every ten seconds when vertigo hit.
“Is it weird that—that I feel like I’m gonna puke, but also couldreallyyyyyygo for a chocolate cwaaa—cwaa—crrroissant right now?” My slurring was so bad it was a miracle the words even got out.
His laugh was velvet.
“I totally get it. I feckin’ love chocolate croissants! Having them completely hammered only enhances the flavor.”
“Right? Sooooo true!” I cackled like an insane person, slapping his shoulder enthusiastically. “Why does my tongue feel so heavy? And my—my eyeballs—they feel numb.” My mouth made slapping sounds as I tested it.
Then, a piercing flash of white light radiated the pathway in front of us.
An animalistic growl tore through Finley’s throat as his hand pushed me behind him. There on the sidewalk, stood a small, doughy-eyed, gold-haired cherub.Honey. The adorable, blue-eyed Commander of the Cherub Army lingered a few feet away with hands disapprovingly placed on his hips.
“What the—” Finley swore.
“Uh-ohhhhh . . . ” I giggled. “Call me a biscuit, because I’m about to get Honey’d!!!”
Finley shot me a look, then gazed back to the Cherub, pieces clicking together.
“Right. One of David’s—security guards?” He studied Honey curiously. “It’s all right, lad. I can walk her home.” His words were slow and enunciated, like he wasn’t sure the Cherub spoke the common language.
Honey’s white tunic shifted in the breeze, accessorized with a belted rose-gold dagger. In his hand, a small spear sizzled with electric power in hues of pink and red.
