Damien, a short, chubby guy with long cornrows and a handsome face, just shrugged and sipped his drink. I scooted a little further from War, feeling the tension rise. Jay, ever the gentleman, poured me a drink and slid it my way.
“I know it’s a nigga’s born day, but I’m just trying to celebrate you. It’s all about you, sweetheart,” he flirted.
“I thought I told you this is my peoples. Come on, muthafucka, keep it PG,” War warned Jay.
“Thank you, Jay,” I said, shooting daggers at War as I took a sip.
“Chill out with that nice shit!”War’s voice echoed in my head, a warning.
I rolled my eyes and took another sip. “Let me relax with my drink and pretend I’m not here! I don’t want you upsetting your human girlfriend. At least you got good taste in women.”
“Just don’t do too much,”he replied, his eyes cutting to me.
It was going to be a long-ass night. If my sisters were here, Jinx would’ve already dragged Jade through the sky by her neck.
Over an hour later, the section was flooded with bottles of top-shelf liquor, and money was storming through like a blizzard. I was now drinking straight from a heavy, hand-painted bottle of Clase Azul tequila, the burn sliding down my throat like liquid fire. A few inches away, a dancer in a pink glittery thong, stacked heels, and a see-through bra spun around the pole. I watched her closely, openly flirting with War as Jade’s eyes bored into me from across the table—it was a fucking circus.
“You can touch it, handsome,” the dancer purred at War, slapping her ass with a smack that echoed over the bass. War’s friends were wilding out with the other two strippers, dollar bills flying, bodies grinding. She bent over, ass cheeks clapping right in War’s face, and didn’t spare me a single glance. Maybe that was the point. Were strip clubs only for men? I eyed her up—slim waist, fat ass, perky tits, skin like golden honey, hair dyed a wild shade of pink. Her body was like a garden, flowers and vines inked in neon colors, wrapping around her limbs. Her cuteness made my jaw clench; I wanted to claw her face off. My angersimmered, boiling over—my nails sharpened, slicing open the velvet of the chair with a hiss.
“Don’t be afraid to touch it,” she coaxed War. She pulled a trick, making each ass cheek bounce in perfect rhythm. War smirked and gave her a hard smack, the sound swallowed by the music.
“What’s the matter, Eboenia? You wanna twerk on your cousin too?” Jade asked, yelling over the music.
“Don’t be shy, baby. You can feel it too. It’s just for fun,” the stripper finally said, turning to me. She looked at War, lips curled in a teasing smile. “Is your wife always this quiet?”
Now this hoe wanna acknowledge me!
“She’s not my wife,” War responded.
“So, that means we can link up later,” she flirted, licking her lips.
I rolled my eyes, disgust curling my lip as I watched her grind on War. He was locked in, his eyes glued to her body. The stripper’s body language screamed for him to take her right there. The music faded into a low, pulsing hum, the partygoers blurring into a kaleidoscope of color at the edge of my vision. My focus tunneled in on the pink-haired bitch, her hips hypnotic, her movements almost supernatural.
Then, the air flickered—my magic, slick and black, slithered out from under my skin. As she spun, black spiders began to crawl up her thighs. They poured from her skin, crawling over her tattoos, writhing up her stomach and into her nose. I covered my mouth to let out a giggle.
“What…the…hell!” she shrieked. She stomped and thrashed, trying to shake them off. I grinned, watching as the spiders spilled from her nostrils, her screams lost in the turnt up club. She bolted for the back, leaving a trail of panic behind her. The humans kept partying, oblivious to what just happened.
“It was getting to the good part and you just had to mess it up,” War chuckled, unbothered.
“Fuck you!” I spat, venom in my voice.
“In due time,” War replied.
My veins pulsed with rage as I bit the inside of my cheek. Jealousy gnawed at me, clawing its way up from the pit of my stomach. War reached out, squeezing my thigh. “Calm down, lil’ one. Save that energy for later. No need to get jealous over a lap dance.”
“Who said I was jealous?” I snapped.
“I can feel it, see it in your eyes,” he said.
I stood, ready to storm off, but War’s gaze locked onto me, daring me to make a scene. I could feel the pressure of his magic, invisible but heavy, like a warning pressing against my skin.
“Don’t think I won’t punish you here,” he threatened.
“I’m going to dance. That’s what you like, right?” I challenged, grabbing the bottle and taking a long pull. His eyes tracked me as I moved, hips rolling, a fragrant forest scent leaking from my pores.
When a fairy dances, it was like a mating call. It wasn’t just my body or my beauty—it was the magic, thick and heady, oozing into the air. I climbed onto the table, letting my bodymove with impossible grace, as if I was both flying and rooted to the earth. War’s eyes burned as I dropped low, spreading my legs, popping my pussy toward him, pheromones thickening the air like honey.
“Goddamn,” he mouthed, licking his lips.
