Chapter 22

Chapter 22

FEY

T his time when she went to the gym to train, Fey made no attempt to smother her anger. She embraced it, letting it burn through her, letting it fuel her. And her body reveled in it. Thrilled in it.

She used that anger, that rage, to hone her training and push herself further than ever. She saw the faces of everyone who had called her queen, everyone who had knelt to her, everyone who had looked at her like she was something she wasn’t. She saw her own face, scowling out at her from those insidious posters. And she used those images to power her, filling every punch she threw, every hit she delivered, with red-hot fury.

She was no queen. She was no savior, no revolutionary.

She was… she was…

Vengeance . The word flowed through every fiber of her being. That's what she had been when she took down the Queen's consort, her once mentor, what she had been when she had stormed the palace looking for blood. That’s what she had been when she’d sent her own father to his death. The Goddess made her for violence, for war. She was no healer, no peacemaker. She was fury and rage, and she could bring this whole city to its knees using just a fraction of her power .

Alastair was right. No one should kneel before her.

They should cower.

Alastair . Just thinking of him soothed that roiling anger in her. The power inside her purred at the very thought of him.

Tonight, she would be meeting Alastair’s family for the first time. Tonight, she didn’t need to hide what she was, didn’t need to pretend. She would meet them as herself. Fey, the Queen’s Broken Blade. Fey, the warrior. Fey, the murderer.

By the time the sun started creeping toward the horizon and it was finally time to meet Alastair at The Last Drop, Fey was feeling blissfully exhausted and content. Let the world see her for what she truly was. Let them all see.

On her way to the club, tendrils of fire wrapped around the posters as she passed by them, leaving nothing but ash in her wake.

The Wolf guarding the door to The Last Drop gave Fey a shy grin as she gestured her inside. Fey didn’t recognize her, but she gave her a smile she hoped was less threatening than it felt. The music inside was already loud enough to rattle her bones, despite the early hour, but for the first time Fey found it soothed her. It fit her mood, the vibrations through the floor tuned to the frequency of her anger.

Jasper wasn’t in his usual spot behind the bar when she arrived, but one of the other Wolves pointed her toward the stockroom, saying he was back there.

She rapped twice on the door frame to get his attention.

“One second,” Jasper murmured, his back to her as he flipped through a few sheets on his clipboard. He made a note, frowning, then turned.

His smile was instant.

“Hey gorgeous.” Jasper grinned. His green eyes slid down her body, from her neck to her feet, and the smile only grew.

“Wow,” he said with a whistle. His eyes glittered as he took her in. “Don’t you look good enough to eat. What’s the occasion?”

Fey smiled. She gave a little spin, showing off the little black dress she was wearing. It was a simple, gauzy piece, tight across the chest with a flowy skirt, but even Fey had to admit it looked lovely on her.

“Alastair is taking me to meet his family tonight,” she explained. “I thought I’d at least try to make a good impression.”

“The whole family? Brother and father?” Jasper asked, arching an eyebrow.

Fey nodded, and he grimaced, turning back to his clipboard.

“Best of luck with that one, gorgeous. Alastair is always in a shitty mood when he gets back from visiting that asshole. His dad’s a piece of work, so don’t take it personally if he’s not very… receptive to you.”

A spark of anxiety ignited in her chest. Alastair had given her a similar warning. She didn’t care if the Fallen King approved of her or not. The Goddess herself knew Alastair didn’t care. But Fey hoped at the very least to get Callum’s approval. Alastair spoke so fondly of his little brother. She doubted very much Callum would give his approval if she and the family patriarch came to blows over dinner. And tonight, that rage inside her was still bubbling just a little too close to the surface for that not to be a distinct possibility.

Eager for a distraction, Fey looked around at the stockroom. It was her first time back here, and she let her eyes drift over the space, taking in the boxes and bottles of liquor, the stacks of paper towels and cleaning supplies, and…

“What’s with the laundry?” Fey asked, frowning at the corner.

Jasper turned, eyes landing on the pile of used bar towels heaped against the wall.

“Oh for…Sid, you fucker,” he murmured. “It’s nothing, just… just don’t touch it, okay? Keep away from that.”

Eyeing them warily, Fey moved further inside. There wasn’t anywhere to sit, and since Alastair wouldn’t be awake for a while yet, she hopped up to seat herself on a stack of boxes and keep Jasper company as he worked. Crossing her legs, she tried not to stare too hard as Jasper pulled boxes down from the shelves, his thick arms flexing as he handled them. One by one he set them near the door, returning to his clipboard to tick items off the list there.

“What are you doing in here, anyway?” Fey asked.

“Inventory,” Jasper answered. “Normally I make one of the other Wolves do it, but I’m feeling charitable today.”

He paused, frowning at the sheet, then turned back to the shelves, searching once more. Fey uncrossed her legs. Her feet didn’t quite reach the ground, so she let them hang there, dangling.

“Ah, there you are,” he muttered, crouching down and prying a box loose from the lower shelf. When he finally managed to get it out, he sat back on his heels and glanced over at her.

From his place on the ground, his face was right at knee height, and he grinned wickedly up at her.

“You know,” Jasper said, turning and placing one hand on either side of her hips on the box she was sitting on, staring up at her with hungry eyes. “I think this might be my favorite place in the whole world.”

“Where?” Fey asked, smiling despite herself.

“On my knees for you.”

Fey laughed, kicking out at him, and Jasper grinned even harder. He rose to stand, but he kept his hands there, on either side of her.

“So,” he said, moving a little closer, leaning over her. Fey’s breath caught in her throat. He wasn’t touching her, wasn’t doing anything to her. But just having him that close to her was enough to make her blood heat. “Are you and Alastair planning on spending a little quality time together in his office before you leave tonight?”

“Why?” Fey teased, trying to ignore the things his voice did to her. She gave him a mocking grin. “Are you looking for an invitation to join?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. He shifted closer, hands sliding almost to her hips, until all she could see was him. “Maybe I could just warm you up for him? Get you all wet and ready for his cock. I bet he’d like that.”

Fuck, that voice. Fey swallowed. Trying to keep her voice casual, she asked, “I thought that was just a one-time thing?”

He was teasing her. Playing with her, just like he always did. It didn’t mean anything—just harmless flirting.

Wasn’t it?

Jasper’s voice was husky when he answered her. “Maybe I underestimated how much I liked it…” Those hands moved closer, almost to uching her now, almost brushing against the fabric of her dress. “Maybe I can’t stop thinking about how you tasted. And what I’d give to taste you again.”

Fey’s tongue darted out to wet her lips.

“And Alastair?” she asked, breathlessly.

Jasper’s lips hovered just above her own, close enough to brush against hers as he spoke in a soft whisper. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind tasting him, too.”

His green eyes were dark as he held her gaze, letting that truth hang between the two of them.

Neither of them heard Alastair enter the stockroom. They didn’t even notice he was there. Not until a strong arm wrapped around Jasper’s neck and yanked him away from Fey.

“Well, well, well,” Alastair said, his voice thick with barely constrained fury. “Doesn’t this look fucking cozy, hm?”