Page 8 of The Rowan
“We’ll take the hummus with pita chips and the spinach and artichoke dip,” she replies before laughter spills out of her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. I simply can’t get over the novelty of a witch working.”
“I enjoy working,” I comment, while jotting down her order in the tablet. I give her a brief smile in return and ignore her laughter. Maybe she needs a few minutes to get over the shock of meeting an unknown witch. I mean, they can’t know every witch in the supernatural universe, right? “Your food should be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
Turning my back, I sweep the area for Merindah and find her standing by the bar. As I walk towards her, a hand comes out and slaps my ass…again.
Seriously? What are we, fucking twelve?I huff angrily and zap his hand. I glare down at him, waiting for his response.
“What the fuck?! You witch bitch!” he yells, surging to his feet.
“The next time you put your hand on my ass, I’ll set it on fire. Got it, asshole?” I bite out as I look up at him. He’s got at least six inches on me, but I’ve beaten bigger. Sounds die down around us, and I distribute my weight in anticipation. He snarls and clenches his fists.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now, Jason, what have I told you about putting your hands on our staff?” a familiar dark voice rings out behind me, and the air stirs with the smell of burnt cedar and sex.
I shuffle to the side until I can see both the wolf and the person behind me. Astor stands there with his hands on his hips, a small smile gracing his lips. He looks amused until you see the darkness swirling in his eyes. Shadows from the blackest corners of sanctuary slide up and surround him.
“Since when do you care about witches?” The wolf snorts, and the crowd laughs.
“When the witch works for The Abbey.” Astor’s voice is mild as he explains, but a hint of possessiveness enters his tone. “We don’t allow anyone to mess with our employees. You know the rules. Unless provoked, you’ll be punished according to the offense.”
The wolf nervously blurts out, “She zapped me!”
Astor cocks an eyebrow towards me.
I roll my eyes and shrug. “He’s slapped my ass twice tonight. The first time, Merindah gave him a nice verbal warning. Obviously, it didn’t penetrate his thick skull. I figured a little pain might work better. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so lenient.”
Fury darkens Astor’s face, and with a simple hand gesture, he creates a window behind us and sends the shifter flying out. Where he lands is unknown. It depends on how far Astor threw him. Before the window closes, Astor snarls at the wolf’s companions. “Are you leaving the easy way or the hard way?” he demands.
The rest of the wolves scramble up and head out the door. The DJ starts up the music, and the sounds from the crowd ramp up again.
“I can take care of myself,” I tell him, irritated with his interference.
“I’m sure you can, gorgeous,” he replies with smoky laughter, “but why don’t you leave the magic to someone better?” Wrapping his arm around a nearby brunette in a skimpy dress, he strolls off to the VIP area.
Scowling, I watch him retreat and stomp over to Merindah. My magic burns to show him exactly what I can do. Prick.
Merindah throws an arm around me. “You can knock him on his ass next week, okay?”
“Promise?” I grin, picturing it.
“Absolutely,” she reassures me. “I never lie.”
“Hmm, definitely Fae,” I tease.
“One hundred percent,” she admits, an almost bitter tone in her voice.
“You know, you remind me of the Queen of the Light Fae,” I say, although I don’t tell her she looks enough like her to be her daughter.
“You know the queen?” she asks quietly. When I nod, she thinks for a second. “Did you meet her when you won the Gathering of the Light?” She points to the rune at my throat.
Pursing my lips, I study her for a second. “How did you know?”
“I recognize the work of the queen’s Rune Master, Rivan,” she says, before pulling back her hair to show me the small rune tattooed behind her ear.
I start to ask about her rune, but someone shouts, “Can we order drinks?!” and we’re off running again.
Midnight rolls around, and The Abbey is packed. As we set down drinks at one of our tables, the lights flicker, and the ladies in the club scream with excitement. Whistles ring out from the males. Merindah swings by and grabs my arm, pulling me to the dance floor.
“What’s going on?” I yell, trying to be heard above the crowd.
