Chapter 5

Chapter 5

FEY

“ Y ou’re lying,” Jasper accused, a playful smile curving his lips. It wasn’t the same smile he gave the other patrons—the flirtatious one full of the promise of sin. Fey liked this smile better, the one he seemed to save just for her.

“Not lying,” Fey assured him with an easy shrug. “Hand to the Goddess, I’m telling you the truth.”

“Exaggerating, then. Come on, you must be,” he pestered.

“Nope. Not exaggerating. Not even a little.”

Jasper shook his head in bewilderment, his green eyes sparkling. Fey glanced at him but quickly looked away, a pink blush coloring her cheeks. Just like Alastair, Jasper was so good-looking it was sometimes hard to look directly at him.

“You’re saying they knelt to you?” he asked with a chuckle, leaning his elbows against the bar. His thick muscles shifted under his shirt with the movement. “They actually got down to their knees and knelt? In the middle of the store?”

“Just one knee,” Fey protested, as though that made a difference. She plucked a corner off the brownie in front of her and popped it into her mouth, rolling the treat over her tongue. “But yes. Right in the middle of the store. He just…dropped down and knelt. ”

Goddess, Regina’s brownies had no right being this delicious. Fey let out a soft moan as she swallowed the bite of chocolate goodness. She licked a few errant crumbs from her fingers, finally feeling like herself again.

She was glad she’d stopped by here. These days, when her thoughts became too loud and her rage flared too close to the surface, it was oddly comforting to swing by The Last Drop. Even with the sun still hovering above the horizon, and the club yet to open for the night, at least she could find some company here. A distraction.

For whatever reason, this club was starting to feel like home.

“Well,” Jasper said, leaning over the bar to pull the brownie toward himself. “I certainly can’t blame a guy for getting on his knees for you. Especially when you make noises like that .”

Fey laughed and flicked a crumb at him.

“How often does this happen to you?” Jasper asked, face turning serious again. He broke off a piece of brownie for himself, ignoring Fey’s scowl. Greedy fucking Wolf . He’d devoured the pork buns she brought him in a matter of seconds, and there’d be blood if he ate much more of her dessert. “The, uh, kneeling, I mean?”

Fey shrugged. She plucked a cherry from her drink and rolled the stem between her fingers. “Depends, really… when I’m in our neighborhood? Hardly ever. But anywhere else? At least once a week.” She exhaled slowly, letting her head tilt back. “And then there are the posters…”

“Oh, is that why you’ve become a hermit?” Jasper asked, licking chocolate from his fingertips.

Fey shot him an irritated look and then quickly glanced away. The way he licked and sucked the chocolate from his fingers was borderline pornographic. “I haven’t become a hermit,” she argued, staring at her drink. “I go places.”

“Where?” Jasper asked with a laugh. “And here doesn’t count!” he added when she opened her mouth to respond.

“What do you mean here doesn’t count?” Fey asked incredulously.

“I mean exactly what I said. It doesn’t count. You’re here… what? Maybe once every few weeks? If that? And only when we’re not busy. Yo u see me and Alastair, and no one else. And as much as I love to see you, gorgeous, it doesn’t count.”

Fey scowled. Her rage remained tightly leashed, but it didn’t stop her irritation from bleeding through. “I go to work. I go running every morning. And I go see Joy and Alice at least once a month, for family dinner.”

“Also doesn’t count,” he answered smugly.

Fey curled her lip at him, but rather than backing down, Jasper just smiled wider at her, giving her a sharp-toothed grin.

“How do those not count?” she demanded.

“Your sisters live right on the outskirts of our neighborhood,” Jasper said, ticking his points off on his fingers. “You run alone, despite knowing every Wolf working here would run with you, in whichever form you wanted. Me included, fuck you for never asking, by the way. And you don’t see anyone at work. Do you ever go shopping in the other districts, Fey? Go to the bars or restaurants there?”

No, of course she didn’t. Why would she?

“I have everything I need here,” Fey insisted with what she hoped was a casual shrug. Jasper snorted a laugh.

“Look, I’m not trying to get on your case,” he told her in a kind tone, tearing another piece from her brownie with his fingers. Fey reached out to snatch it back, but he playfully batted her hand away. “But even you have to admit you’ve put some pretty thick walls around yourself, Fey.”

He tossed the piece of brownie into his mouth.

“I’m here spending time with you, aren’t I?” Fey argued, her irritation clear in her tone and gripping her drink a little too tight.

Eyes locked on hers, Jasper swallowed, his throat bobbing with the motion. As he leaned across the bar, angling himself closer to her, his smile slipped. “Yeah,” he said in a husky voice, eyes drifting to her lips. “You are, aren’t you?”

They were close enough now they were nearly touching. Fey froze as he reached up to touch her face gently, his thumb tracing the corner of her mouth.

“You have chocolate on your face,” he told her. Fey’s breath caught as he drew his thumb over her bottom lip. Then it was gone, Jasper bringing that finger to his mouth to lazily lick the chocolate off.

“If you eat one more crumb of my brownie,” Fey whispered, trying to ignore the quaver in her own voice. Her skin was hot where he’d touched her. “I will skin you and hang your pelt behind the bar.”

Jasper laughed and opened his mouth to reply. But then his eye snapped to something behind her, and the laughter died on his lips. He straightened, pulling away from Fey, his eyes narrowing.

“Viv?” Jasper asked, a mix of irritation and concern in his voice. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Fey turned, following his gaze across the empty club. No, not empty, not quite. There was a teenaged girl there, striding across the vacant dance floor, smiling sheepishly at them as she approached. Her soft brown hair was just long enough to brush over the top of her shoulders as she walked.

She’s the spitting image of Jasper, Fey noticed. The golden-brown hair, the green eyes speckled with grey, even his full, pouty lips. Hell, she even had his crooked smile.

“Everything’s fine,” the girl said with a shrug. The bag on her shoulder shifted with the movement, a strap coming loose and falling down her arm until she tugged it back into place. “I was just bored, so I figured I’d come here and?—”

“You’re supposed to be with Nan today,” Jasper interrupted, eyes narrowing and face darkening. His voice was a soft growl. “Nan in the evenings every night this week—you know that, Vivian. So why are you here ?”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Nan is taking a nap,” she explained. “She’s always taking a nap, Jas. And there’s nothing to do at her place, anyway, so I thought?—”

“Stop,” Jasper interrupted, holding his hand up. “You did not think. Fuck, Viv, you’re not old enough to be in here. Who even let you in?”

Vivian pouted, pushing her bottom lip out dramatically as she gestured over her shoulder at the door. “Mara did. She knows me, Jas. And I asked her if you were here before she let me in, by the way. It’s not like I just walked into a bar, okay?”

Jasper's growl was low and vicious in his throat. His eyes shot to the door of the club. “She’s only sixteen, Mar!” he shouted across the bar. “You can’t let a sixteen-year-old in a fucking night club!”

“I’m almost seventeen!” Vivian argued, raising her voice to match Jasper’s and stamping her foot. Fey took a sip from her drink to hide her smile. The other Wolves working at The Last Drop treated Jasper with the same wary respect and obedience as they did Ferus, the club’s assistant owner. It was a treat seeing this kid go head-to-head with him, completely without fear. “And the club is closed anyway, so it’s not like I’m in any danger or?—”

“Go home, Vivian,” Jasper told her. “Closed or not, this isn’t any place for a kid. Go back to Nan’s.”

The girl just rolled her eyes. “I’m not a kid, Uncle Jas, I just—” She stopped suddenly, spotting Fey. Her eyes widened, and her fingers rose to tug at her hair, almost nervously.

“You’re her, aren’t you?” Vivian asked, taking a few steps toward her. “The Broken Blade?”

The name twisted in Fey’s stomach, mixing unpleasantly with the chocolate and alcohol there.

Jasper rolled his eyes.

“Fey,” he said, irritation clouding his voice. “This is my sister’s kid, Vivian. Viv, this is Fey. I’m sure she’s thrilled to meet you, but she has to go home now. Don’t you, Viv?”

“I recognize you from the posters,” Vivian said, ignoring Jasper entirely and reaching inside her bag to pull one out. Fey recognized it immediately.

Let me out , that Fire roared inside her. A sneer rose to her lips.

“Oh, no, these aren’t mine!” Vivian said, seeing the cold look of rage pass over Fey’s face and quickly shoving the poster back into her bag and out of sight. “I… I tear them down when I see them around the neighborhood. These are just from my walk over here.” She looked a little sheepish, as though she realized that bringing up the posters was a mistake.

True to her word, all the posters peeking out of Vivian’s bag were torn, as though they’d been ripped from their nails.

“Sorry if I shouldn’t do that… I just figured, like, if you wanted to be queen, why would you have gone through all of that trouble, you kn ow? Why kill the old queen and…and start the council and everything?”

“I didn’t start the council,” Fey said, automatically. “I have nothing to do with it.” That was Alice’s domain, not hers. Fey popped the last bit of brownie in her mouth and chewed, letting the taste dull the flare of anger she’d felt. It was an almost touching gesture that Jasper’s niece spent time taking down the posters. She wondered if that was the reason she saw so few of them in the Shifter district.

“But… you did kill the Queen, didn’t you?” the girl pressed, taking another step toward her.

Fey hadn’t. But it was a lie she was happy to keep living with, so she nodded.

“That was cool, you know?” Vivian continued, giving Fey a small, shy smile. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Everything you did, I mean. To try to fix what she broke…to try to make it better, for everyone, even… even us.”

Fey forced a smile.

“Thanks,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you, Viv.”

“Vivian,” the girl said, pulling a face and tugging her bag over her shoulder again. “You can just call me Vivian. Only Uncle Jas ever calls me Viv. Well, him and Alastair. All my friends call me?—”

“ Home , Viv,” Jasper interrupted angrily.

“Oh, come on,” Vivian whined. “Look, I’m bored, okay? And I could be out there”—she gestured at the exit behind her, toward the neighborhood streets—“getting into trouble and causing mischief, but instead I’m here, aren’t I? And I thought… maybe Alastair could give me a job, you know? And then you wouldn’t have to worry about where I am, would you?”

Her eyes sparkled hopefully when she said it, and she gave Jasper a crooked grin that was a mirror image of his own.

“You’re too young,” he insisted. “And you are out there causing mischief all the time, so don’t give me that. I only hear about a portion of what you and your friends get up to, and even that is too much. If Nan knew, she’d have a heart attack, I can promise you that.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be causing so much trouble if I had a job. Did you ever think of that? ”

Jasper sighed loudly, and Vivian shot Fey a victorious smile.

Setting her bag down on the bar, Vivian hopped up onto the stool next to Fey. Her feet didn’t quite reach the floor.

“What’re you drinking?” she asked, looking at the glass in Fey’s hand and cocking her head.

“A Shirley Temple,” Fey lied, taking a sip and shooting Jasper a glance, daring him to correct her.

Vivian leaned forward and sniffed the air. She scrunched up her nose. “Doesn’t smell like a Shirley Temple to me… smells like alcohol… and the stuff Uncle Jas uses to clean the windows.”

“It is alcohol, which is why you shouldn’t be here, Viv,” Jasper started. “Grab your bag. I’m taking you home.”

“Please, Jas,” Vivian pleaded. “Just let me talk to Alastair. I know he’ll understand. I don’t have to serve drinks or anything. I can just… clean up, or help Mara at the door. Or maybe even help Ferus beat people up. I know I’d be good at it. I’m so much stronger than the other Wolves my age. Please.”

Jasper opened his mouth to argue again, but before he could, another voice cut through the quiet of the bar. A voice that sent a delicious tendril of heat through Fey’s body.

“Well, hello Vivian,” Alastair said in a voice dark as midnight. He came down the stairs from the upper level of the club slowly, hands in his pockets. Fey turned to watch him. He moved like a predator, full of coiled energy and menace. It was a joy to watch him move. “It’s always such a fun surprise when my bouncers let a child into my club.”

Alastair wore his usual work attire—a black suit and tie—though the tie hung open and unknotted at his collar, like he’d dressed in a hurry. Fey would have bet all the gold in their bank that the sun had just set seconds ago, and Alastair had used every bit of his preternatural speed to rush to see her.

“I’m not a child,” Vivian insisted. “And I’m here for a job, so it’s not like I snuck in to get drunk or anything. I just want to help clean up or run security. I promise I’d do a good job.”

“I can’t hire minors,” Alastair explained, reaching the bottom of the stairs and crossing the empty dance floor toward them. “Even if they are just cleaning.” He glanced away from her, eyes locking on Fey’s. Hunger danced in those golden eyes.

Vivian pouted.

“Come back when you’re eighteen, and then we can talk about a job,” Alastair told Vivian, a clear dismissal.

He came to a stop next to Fey, standing so close she could feel the heat from his body. Smiling down at her, he reached up to run a finger down her cheek.

It was such a small thing, such a tiny gesture. And it shouldn’t provoke such a reaction. Still… Fey’s eyes fluttered shut as his finger traced down her skin, leaning into that touch. It was automatic, this reaction to him.

“Hello, Witchling,” Alastair greeted her. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”