Page 80 of Iris
Those intense blue eyes hold me there. Just full of calm and waiting and there’s something like a safe space there. But maybe that’s in my head because neither man is safe.
But still…I cling and breathe and Killian says, “Drink it. He’s telling you to drink it. If you’re going to freak out, he’ll take you home. Now. Up to you.”
Asshole.
But the uncaring tone is another lifeline, and I hold that too. I drink the drink.
It’s rough, burning, alcoholic and I drink it down, past the sputter.
“I’m fine.” I resist the urge to wipe my mouth as someone starts talking.
But Killian doesn’t let it go. “Are you sure? Because if you’re not, you can go.”
“Try and stop me from staying,” I say.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Xavier
No one.
Nothing.
I smoke a cigarette. For the cause. It’s breaking the Emmie rules I’ve set for myself, but I’m dressed as a member of the upper class, something no one ever suspects me as being if they look.
Killian?
He can blend.
But I lean against the lamp post opposite. On one side of me’s a busy dive, the kind those from the Upper Side learn not to go to, and none of them are among the patrons. I’ve been in there, had a drink with the owner who wanted to ask about the outfit, and did, but…I declined to whip out my phone to type anything out.
Being mute has its perks.
The thing with the rich is even when they dress down it’s obvious who they are.
They wear blockers. Perfumes, all kinds of things to try to disguise their scent and that, more than anything, is a dead giveaway.
Not even Councilmen or women are good at hiding it.
None of them want to appear in public naked. Because that’s what they’d be. Naked. Stripped of disguise and rank and reduced to nothing but their unique scent. Something we down in the Lower Side know about.
We don’t use those foolish things.
Iris…
I stop, start walking again, taking my time as I type notes on my phone like I’m texting and I circle the block.
Iris… She had some kind of sexual, visceral reaction in that meeting room. To me. To Killian.
And she nearly lost her shit.
It’s why I’m more than happy to patrol. I don’t need to be in there to know the plans and whatever they decide.
I fucking know what they want. What we all want.
And what they do…I’m guessing they’ll continue to chip away at the status quo, try and reach the Monarch, but she won’t take a meeting. Not with us.
