Page 7 of Magic of the Damned

To Ava’s credit, after her betrayal, she had the basic decency to leave me alone. She’d scuttled away and the one time we crossed paths, our eyes met for a brief moment only. She jerked her gaze from mine the moment they met. I wasn’t sure why. Was it difficult seeing the echo of pain that her betrayal had caused? Did she feel the need to hide her shame and remorse? Perhaps I was giving her too much credit. Seeing her was a sucker punch to the gut. But at least I only had to endure it once.

He laughed. “Cooter. You’re adorable.”

In that moment, I wasn’t enamored by his wide, charismatic smile or his lush mass of chestnut curls tapered at the sides. Or his round face with the pronounced dimpled chin and hooked nose. The combination of features worked for him, gave him character. Jackson was aware that his unconventional but striking looks drew women to him. It worked and he knew it.

“Obviously adorable isn’t what you want, which is why you looked elsewhere.” I smacked my palm against my head. “I forgot. You didn’t look elsewhere. What did you say? Oh yes, it was an accident. You accidentally slept with my friend.”

He huffed a sigh. “I’ve told you a number of times, that was a bad word choice. It wasn’t an accident. But a mistake. We all make them, and I think it’s something we can work through.”

“Does Ava know you’re here trying to ‘work things out’?” At each of his attempts, I wasn’t sure how I had ever loved such a self-absorbed, unrepentant jackass. I’d been seeing him through rose-tinted glasses. They were off now, though, and his personality was being seen through an unfiltered lens.

My knowledge that he was still involved with Ava didn’t faze him.

“Let’s say that I entertain this idea of working things out.”

Why not? I had time to kill. “What happens to Ava? Or do I become the side woman?”

His jaw clenched and he looked contemplatively into his glass of whiskey. “Not at all. You two are friends?—”

“Were.”

“Were. But you’re no longer friends because of me,” he started out slowly. Emoni had stopped fiddling with the microphone to give him a narrow-eyed look. It eased slightly when I smiled in her direction. Her brow rose in response, a nonverbal inquiry to ask if I was sure. At my slight nod, she returned to adjusting her microphone and preparing for her set.

“She really hates me, doesn’t she?” he asked.

“Hate is being kind. You have no idea what she wanted to do to your man chops.”

He frowned, took another sip from his glass. “As I was saying, you were friends and the situation with her?—”

“The ‘situation’ being you cheating on me with her,” I corrected again. He didn’t get to minimize the situation.

“Cheating or whatever. We all used to hang out and have a good time. I don’t see why it can’t be like that again. But more involved than before.”

I choked on my drink once I realized what he was insinuating. This jackass thought his cheating should be rewarded with a what? Three-way? Throuple? “Hey, I can’t keep it in my pants so let me have both of you.” I had no idea if he’d discussed this with Ava or if he thought that if I was on board, it would be easier to persuade her. “I’m a good guy. I think it’s selfish of you to not want to share.”

My head nodded as I took things in. He took it as consideration. This was beyond appalling. He wasn’t suggesting it as a lifestyle he wanted to explore but because he didn’t want to be accountable for anything. I wasn’t convinced he could be faithful even then. His arrogance and entitlement were boundless.

“I’ve never been in a bar fight before,” I informed him. “To be more precise—a fight. Period.”

His brow furrowed in confusion.

“I plan to change that stat if you don’t get the hell away from me. First, I’m going to throw my drink in your face. Then I’m going knee you in your giblets. While you’re whining about your throbbing crotch, I’m going to punch you in the face. Take this as your one and only warning.”

Rage was rising in me at a pace that I couldn’t control.

Deep breaths. No violence. You’re here for your friend. But I wanted violence. I wanted to act on my threat.

I had to remove myself from the situation. I wouldn’t ruin Emoni’s show. “Stay away from me,” I demanded and moved to the other side of the bar. I was farther from the band but Jackson was no longer in view. Within a half hour, the number of people in the bar had doubled. It was full but not packed and every so often, I’d look in the direction I’d left Jackson to make sure he was staying on his side of the bar.

Through the crowd, I got a glimpse of his slow migration toward me. As he lingered in one spot, the low lights in the room hit his frown of consideration. I hoped he would reconsider and turn around. He didn’t and weaved through the crowd toward me.

I looked away, hoping he got the message. Drawing my attention from Jackson was the warm body that sidled up next to me. My eyes lifted to catch the stranger’s eyes before his gaze moved to my approaching ex, whose attention had drifted from me to the stranger. A smirk lifted Jackson’s lips while his eyes narrowed. He rounded his shoulders in a show of defiance and raw aggression.

“Go away.” The man from the coffee shop’s deep-edged voice hinted at something ominous. His command earned him a look of shock and irritation from Jackson.

“What did you say?” Jackson ground out through clenched teeth after the shock wore off.

The man stepped in front of my ex. The stranger’s imposing presence overwhelmed the area. Jackson put noticeable effort into maintaining his composure and insolence. But the hubris remained; he had tons to spare.

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