“Wait,” she says, some of the tension loosening from her shoulders as I blink up at her. “Bartender?”
“It’s Ro, actually, but you can call me whatever you want.”
Alorra blinks at me. I still have my hands in the air, and my face is level with her bare stomach. She’s wearing a black crop top under her leather jacket. I want to lean forward and lick the pale skin peeking out at me.
“Why are you following me?” she demands. No fear, no uncertainty, just pure fire in her words. My inner demon wants to roll around in her attitude, and so do I.
My eyes flick back up to hers. They’re glaring at me, dark with defiance, and I grin.
“What was that you were digging?” My curiosity gets the better of me. It’s no longer a want, it’s a need. I need to know everything about her.
“Who are you?” she says.
“Have you always had silver hair?”
Her glare turns into an entire look, with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. She brandishes the knife and my smile cracks even wider. This is a fun game. I wonder what she’ll want to know about me next.
If I know what she wants, I can bribe her with it later.
Or… wait. I don’t think I do that anymore. Bribes and manipulation are bad. Good people don’t do bad things. So, no more manipulation?No more fires. No more stealing. Absolutely no killing.Although, I don’t think I’m in danger of any of those right now, for perhaps the first time in my life.
I’m distracting myself when there’s a perfect reason to focus right in front of me.
“You gonna use that?” I ask, angling my chin at the knife, and attempting to contain the delight fizzing through my veins. She’s a fierce goddess standing above me. Eyes blazing, fists clenched, loose tendrils of hair dancing in the wind. Soft and strong at the same time, all powerful in her absolute control of this situation.
Alorra clicks her tongue, then clicks the flashlight off. She spins on her heel and stomps away, little clods of dirt rolling away from her with each step as her hair and skin seem to brighten under the sole light of the moon and stars.
I take her not stabbing me as permission to continue as I was, so I scramble to my feet, and dart after her.
7
NEVER NEGOTIATE WITH A DEMON
January 26, 1981: I had a nightmare last night. A reliving of the last years of Mother’s life. The way she withered away, mind and body. Bones sticking through skin, indecipherable nonsense on her tongue, decaying muscles reflecting the decaying of her thoughts. In my dreams she haunts me, showing me the end I’m destined for. The early death I’ve cursed my sweet Renée to live.
Lor
He’s stumbling along behind me, noisy scuffs in the quiet of night. I can’t believe he’s here, the cute bartender. That must have been him following me all this time. My feet flatten the earth as I carve through the debris scattered by the impact of the fallen star. I think he said his name earlier, but I can’t remember it beyond that it was short. My mind was too busy swirling with panic over the thought that someone was about to murder me. I might not know his name, but what I do know is that he’s infuriating.
An infuriating flirt who doesn’t understand the concept of boundaries, apparently.
He trips and I whirl around, wrath ready to lash out on my tongue, but it stalls behind my teeth when my gaze lands on his puppy-dog eyes. His face is turned up to me with raised eyebrows and a crooked grin. Those damning eyes are wide and bright despite the dark, made more stark by the eyeliner he always wears.
I scowl and wrinkle my nose. I amnotgoing soft for the clumsy, hot bartender who followed me hours outside the city to the middle of nowhere.
“Tell me why you’re here.”
I try again to get him to spill his secrets. I’m afraid if he replies with more questions that my patience will run out and I might actually stab him. On that thought, I flip my knife closed and pocket it, confident I can land a throat punch and run if needed.
“I want to be,” he says.
Yep, good thing I put my knife away. It’s all I can do not to growl at him as I fist my hands at my sides.
“What does that mean?” I manage to get the words out, despite my clenched teeth.
He shrugs. “I’m curious about you.”
I roll my lips between my teeth, sucking in a deep breath through my nose. If I was religious, I might pray for patience. Or for a higher being to smite him.
