Page 48 of Wicked Court

That used to be me.

Rarely was I without a circle of friends, all of us linking arms and tripping onto the street after a full night at Titan’s Brew. Sasha was always the first to fall, and I’d be hiking her up by her armpits before she topples me like a giant because I’m laughing too hard to help her.

God, I miss that. A lot of it was an act, sure, a way to protect my past by appearing carefree and joyous, but the belonging wasn’t fake. The hysterical glee was absolutely real.

Tonight, I’ll join them. I’ll forget about the Cimmerian Court and their dark secrets. I’ll aim for normal and focus on Sasha and how we used to be, and of course, her dreams of being the next Taylor Swift.

I internally recite this mantra as I elbow my way through the crowd, my eyes scanning for her familiar head of black curls before spotting her near the stage.

“Hey! Over here!” she shouts, waving me over to an empty seat at her table.

“Incoming!” I yell over people’s shoulders, weaving through the crowd with two drinks in hand.

The heat from their bodies and dim lighting reminds me of high school parties. My chest constricts at the memories of the ones Maverick used to have at our house that he kept having to shoo me out of before I shove them down. Tonight is about Sasha.

“Thank you,” she sighs gratefully, sipping from her drink. “I really appreciate you coming.”

“Of course,” I smile genuinely, clinking our glasses together before downing half of mine in one go. “You deserve a night of pure admiration.”

“Cheers to that.” She clinks back before downing hers as well. “And speaking of what we deserve?—”

“No,” I cut her off, my hand up in protest. “No matchmaking or meddling tonight. I’m here for one reason only, and it’s not to be a pawn in your dating schemes.”

Sasha grins, unrepentant, but the emcee takes the stage and her attention shifts.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to open mic! First up, we have Sasha Sterling!”

The room claps as Sasha stands, her natural stage presence in full display as she waltzes on stage, strumming her glittery pink guitar once before looking out at the crowd. Her eyes meet mine with a single twitch of nerves before she relaxes her shoulders and begins.

Soon, her sweetened voice fills the speakers, singing her own acoustic renditions of popular tracks.

Closing my eyes, I surrender to the beautiful rhythm. The sound becomes my tether to reality as Sasha’s voice dances above the ambient noise of the crowd. Resisting the pull of my own turmoil, I lean back in my chair, letting her words of almost-love and heartbreak wash over me.

Then, an intrusive shadow eclipses the warm light of the overhead lights. The sudden shift in brightness yanks me from the solace I’m chasing.

My eyes snap open. A tall figure obstructs the warm yellow glow of the overhead fairy lights stapled into the wooden rafters, casting an almost ethereal halo around his sharp features.

My heart freezes for a fraction of a second as a familiar face descends moves and ruins the halo.

Axe, his ash-blond hair stark against the dull glow of the bar, looms over me.

He regards me with his smokey eyes that hold a hint of a ruse beneath their icy veneer. He doesn’t speak, but simply angles his head in a silent greeting.

In an instant, my battle-worn resolve to be normal again crumbles with him so close and all-too-real against the backdrop of a loud, crowded bar.

I swallow hard and set down my glass on the table with a clink that I seem to hear above all else. Searching for words, my gaze shifts from his face to his tense hands, resting deceptively casually on the back of an empty chair across my table.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I manage to say. “This doesn’t seem your vibe.”

His lips curve into a small grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. His gaze remains locked with mine, unblinking.

“Can I join you?” he finally asks, breaking our silent duel.

A myriad of warnings blast through my mind, from Darcy’s cryptic texts to my earlier conversation with him.

But despite it all, I gesture toward the unoccupied chair with feigned nonchalance. “It’s open.”

His mouth widens to a full-fledged grin that makes me wince. His face seems unsuited for smiles.

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