Page 40 of Manacled Hearts

“Let’s get another drink,” I tell her, prying her hands off my neck.

“Um, yeah, sure… okay.” She doesn’t sound all that sure.

I force my gaze on our seats, refusing to stray and search for Evelyn. I don’t understand what she’s doing here. She’s not even old enough to be in this bar, goddamn it!

On clenched teeth I take a deep inhale, trying to rationalize it. Nah, I must be overthinking. She must be with Morrigan, Lulu, or Katya.

She’s fine.

I reach the bar, my untouched vodka sour waiting patiently. I throw back half of it, then sit.

She’s fine.

But I’m not. My only choice is to use Clara as goddamn bleach and drown myself in her to forget about the woman who threatens the wall I built in the last eight years. All the work I’ve done to be able to survive as I have, is now at risk. My goddamn integrity too since she’s… fuck! Way too young!

I turn to the right, and just on cue, Clare steps between my legs, wrapping an arm around my back, the other palm laid over my chest. She leans in, her hot breath on my ear, before she wraps her lips around my lobe.

“Maybe we should head to my place before the alcohol does more damage. It would be such a shame not to… consummate this night,” she whispers sensually in my ear.

I’m just about to open my mouth to answer when I catch sight of something that boils the blood from my veins in one second flat—Evelyn dancing far too close for comfort with that same douche. He’s behind her, his hands on her hips, and looking down at her like he wants way more than a dance.

Then I notice she’s dressed differently. All black. Tight high-waisted jeans, intentionally ripped in too many places showing far too much skin, combat boots, a loose leather crop top that doesn’t touch her waist, and a thin, oversized cardigan that’s fallen off one shoulder, exposing her soft skin and thin straps of her top. She looks… at home.

She looks goddamn perfect.

I’m fucked.

But so is the guy currently lowering his hands dangerously.

“Excuse me.”

I calmly push Clara back before I get off the stool, and head straight to the wretched woman and the asshole who plans to fuck her.

“You!” I point at him as I near. “Leave,” I order him.

“Get your own, man. This one’s mine,” he says with amusement in his tone, not sparing me a glance.

“This?” I sneer. She’s not a fucking object. And she’s definitely not his.

He also doesn’t sound like he’s drunk, which pisses me off further because now I know he plans on taking advantage of Evelyn. I step as close as I can get, caging her between us, and I wrap my hand around the guy’s throat without hesitation. Evelyn gasps but doesn’t move. He lets go of her and goes to grab onto my arm, but his eyes land on mine before his touch does, and I don’t miss the moment recognition hits through the haze of the dim lights.

“My bad. She’s all yours.” He quickly throws his hands up in surrender, but with his throat in my hand, he can’t move.

I give it one last squeeze before I let go, but don’t step away from her.

She turns toward the asshole. “Hey, no. You don’t have to go. I am not his!” Evelyn argues, but her words come together a little slow.

“Um, yes, I really do. So… yeah, thanks for a good night. Bye.” And with that, he disappears into the crowd.

I sense eyes on us from the other patrons, but I couldn’t give a shit about the attention we’re attracting.

“You need to go home,” I say to her, but it comes out like an order.

She narrows her eyes, slowly cocking her head, and uneasiness scrapes its way up my spine. It leaves goosebumps in its wake. I feel horribly seen. Logic whispers to me that I’m imagining it, but the way her gaze seeps into my veins makes me wonder if she’s discovering all my secrets right about now.

My fear eases when her gaze softens, but dread replaces it when she slowly, so fucking slowly, bites one side of her luscious bottom lip. I’m transfixed. It’s impossible to rip my gaze away.

Then the woman does the unthinkable—she laughs.

---