Page 43 of Iris
I look up. Emmie’s on Xavier’s massive shoulders, causing him to have to bend over to get them both through the main door.
They make a mismatched pair, a cute little blonde girl in a tutu that’s ripped, torn, and muddy, and a big, silent, tattooed man who looks like he could snap your neck for looking at him the wrong way. Today he has his black and silver rings on, big, kicking ass boots, ripped jeans, and a worn leather jacket.
he signs.
“By the river?”
For a moment Emmie’s eyes get big. “I went to another bar. Do you think Icy lives in one like me?”
If I had a drink, I’d choke, but my head’s full of Xavier’s laugher. God damn kid hasn’t stopped talking about Iris since the day we met her.
“Do you think she’ll come back to play?”
I put on a pretend smile as Xavier puts her down. “Maybe, bug. You never know. But Freya’s waiting upstairs to give you a bath. If you don’t go now, all the bubbles will be gone.”
“No, bubbles!”
As Emmie careens off, shouting at the bubbles that she’s on her way, Xavier rubs the back of his neck and moves around the bar to make himself a drink.
“She couldn’t make it. She’ll stay tonight, she said, in case the meeting runs longer.”
He points the drink at me.
I’d ask why he has a stick up his ass, but I know. Green eyes and dark hair and a whole lot of attitude. But I’m not going to say it.
She’s irrelevant, even if I can still smell her in the air when I head upstairs or sit at the place she sat at the bar. She’s haunting this place. And Xavier is softer than me. He will think he’s in love with what we can’t have.
Xavier signs as I grab a beer.
I could, too, which is something I’ve been wondering about myself. The blocker colognes most rich Alphas and Omegas use during the Season have a slew of chemicals meant to erase their natural scents. It fucks with the nose, makes a strange void where smell should be.
Maybe her blocker was faulty? But I could still sense it. Iris’s scent was just like a layer underneath the nothingness. Still there, just muted.
Who fucking knows. Doesn’t matter anyway.
I take a long swallow of my beer. “How many people do you think’ll show up tonight?”
“If we can break this fucking stranglehold, things will be better around here.”
He sets his glass down, removes his jacket, and tosses it at the end of the bar.
“You want to fuck the girl.”
he says.
I give him a dark look as my chest tightens, as do my jeans. Fuck yes, I’d love a piece of Iris, but that isn’t why we’re doing this.
“Dude, neither of us want Em growing up in a world where her future’s preordained, that she needs to find an Alpha, fuck, and have babies. If she wants that, great, but maybe she wants to be a professional boxer or…I don’t know, a vulcanologist or some shit.”
His mouth twitches.
“This shit is important.”
“We’re not going to get caught,” I say.
