Correction.
I learned this lesson living on the streets. I swore I’d never lose control of myself. But here I am, a buzzed sad sack unable to get herself home.
Ferryman leans in, his warm whiskey breath feathering over my ear. “Want me to take you home?”
“Thank you, but Jester and Malice told me to find them if I wanted to leave.”
It’s a lie, but it’s okay. I rarely lie, and it’s a small one.
“If they can’t for whatever reason, you come get me.”
Seriously. Ferryman needs to stop being sweet. Everyone here needs to stop being nice to me. These people are killers. They’re supposed to be terrible. Worse than David. Their kindness is confusing. It’s chipping at my wall, and I need my defenses up because if they come down, I’ll be exposed, and they’ll see I’m a fraud. That I’m a scared and weak little girl trapped in a grown woman’s body.
“Thank you. I will.” I slide off the stool and shuffle across the room, my gaze fixed on the floor because there’s some form of sex happening everywhere.
“You,” someone slurs as I pass, and I realize it’s Havoc. I don’t look at him, not even when, in my peripheral, I see his hand reach toward me. “Come here.”
“Nah, bro, she’s Wraith’s,” Discord says.
Nothing is further from the truth.
“Someone better tell Wraith that, because from I saw, he was all up on Rissa,” Havoc sneers.
Rissa.
Pigtail girl has a name. A pretty name.
Swear to God, if I don’t get out of this building, I’m going to shatter into a million pieces.
I make my way down the hall and pause at the only door that’s slightly ajar. I missed the class on proper cockblock protocol. Do I knock? Barge in? Inch it open and see if I glimpse someone familiar? And what happens if I stumble upon Wraith and Rissa?
Miserable, I give up. Flat-out surrender and plow ahead.
I rap on the door, then inch it open wider. Perfume hits me like a brick to the nose. Dim light contrasts the darkness of the hallway as I edge inside. I’m polite and keep my head down, eyes averted. “Sorry to bother you, but have you seen Jester or Malice?”
“Oh hey, sweetie. Wanna join?”
My head snaps up, and my breath hitches in my throat. I hear a whimper, and it takes me a second to realize the pathetic sound came from me.
Wraith’s sprawled on a chair, legs stretched out in front of him. Pants unbuttoned and gaped open. Shirt off, with every scar highlighted under the lamp’s glow. He’s watching me with a silent challenge in his scorching glare.
Rissa, one pigtail askew, is on her knees between his legs. Her lipstick is gone, her eye makeup smudged. I have to rip my gaze away from her because if I don’t, I’m going to lose what fragile control I have left and shame myself by vomiting all over my new Doc Martens.
“Yeah, no,” Wraith drawls. “Probably not a good idea.”
“Well, that sucks,” Rissa huffs.
“Less talking.” Wraith wraps Rissa’s wonked pigtail around his hand. “What happened, Jamie, get bored of Ferryman?”
I fight the haze clouding my brain and lift my chin. With a flare of my nostrils, I clasp my hands in front of me and reach deep inside myself and make a desperate grab for the calm buried beneath layers of agony. “You’re a motherfucker.”
I march out with my dignity intact, but a piece of my heart is dead on the floor where I was standing. I slam the door hard enough to rattle Sanctum’s foundation and beeline to the bar.
“Hey, look who’s back.” Ferryman gives me a wide smile, and I notice he has a gold tooth. “You staying tonight?”
“Still deciding,” I say tightly. Oh God, why does my heart hurt like someone doused it in gasoline and set it on fire?
“Gotcha, but remember, honey, if you need me, you come get me. Even if I’m with someone. You come pull me off whoever I’m with, and I’ll take you home.”
