Chapter 191
Chapter 191
James(TW)
Finally we were making progress. I picked up my glass off the table before sitting back. I didn’t take a drink but it kept my hand busy while I pushed for more, “Finally, witchy-poo, we are getting somewhere. Will you please introduce me to your fiery-haired lady friend.”
“You know, my brother and I have worked hard to make Wheel of Fortune the kind of place that is neutral and safe for all kinds of people. Regardless of anyones background, personal life, or supernatural abilities. Our club’s staff is not to be harassed by someone like you—“
“Someone like me?” I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended, brow arched in challenge. I needed to know what he meant by that. Whatever assumptions he was making or judgements about me in his head were wrong. The words strung more than I expected. This wasn’t about pride, it was about proving I wasn’t the threat he clearly thought I was. He needed to trust me. He needed to see that I deserved the chance to meet her.
“Yes.” Castor’s brows furrowed like I’ve asked something outrageous. He ran a hand through his hair and grumbled, “We don’t need an alpha shifter coming in here, acting like you own the place, and demanding that our staff members be at your beck-and-call.”
“Castor, the only staff member I want to see is the woman wearing the wheel of fortune uniform.” My voice sounds light and friendly but irritation is humming under my skin.
“James, as I have told you repeatedly, no one on our staff has that uniform. The club is called the Wheel of Fortune why would we have that uniform?” He barely moved, just a subtle roll of his shoulder in a dismissive way.
Flabbergasted by the stubbornness of this man I fell back on the booth, and stared at the club’s high beamed ceiling. I needed a minute to recover from and calm my flaring temper. Desperation feels like an invisible snake taking bites at me from every angle. I clenched my teeth to speak through the anger, “Fine. The woman I’m referring to has flaming red and orange hair, amber eyes, and she is about chest high in height.”
“That description doesn’t ring a bell.” He tilts his head back and forth as if he was thinking over my description carefully. “We don’t have any employees that match that. In fact; we don’t have anyone with red hair on our team what-so-ever.”
The finality of his tone left no room for argument. Castor stood up to leave, picking up the empty glass with practiced ease, like the conversation meant nothing to him. Before I realized it my hand shoots out and closed around his forearm. The man’s whole body goes rigid and the air around me fills with the static energy of magic. A crackle of electricity charged the space between us, thickening as if the room had suddenly dropped in pressure, and hummed against my skin. His raw magic flared. It radiated off him like heat off a stove burner.
This was true power, not the valor-tricks his staff peddled. It wasn’t just energy; it was a will—alive and pressing on me, daring me to test it. In my current state he could snap my lifeline in half without much effort, but the desperation snake tightened around me nipping continuously. I didn’t want to test him, but i had to know why the moon goddess steered our paths toward each other. I swallowed down the fear with an audible gulp and pleaded my case, “I wont harm her. I just have a few questions and I know she has the answers.”
Castor yanked his arm away. That protective fire made his voice snap, “She doesn’t have any answers for you.”
He left me wallowing in the repetitively heavy beats of a slow, miserable hoedown shuffle. The music felt like it was mocking me with every beat. I stared at the sampler of different alcoholic drinks, the condensation beading on the glass. My fingers twitched with the ache to reach for something—anything— to drown my mind into a stupor. It would be so easy to let the burn of liquor wash away the chaos of my mind. A few more drinks and I could quiet the pressure, the shame, the exhaustion of only feeling incomplete. It would be so easy to bury myself into a random woman or two for the night, to lose myself in meaningless touches and muffled moans. I could pretend to be whole for a few fleeting hours.
It would be so easy to just give up. A few more drinks and maybe I’d black out and not dream of a woman I had no business dreaming of. I could forget everything and leave it at the bottom of a bottle. Alcohol poisoning was a possibility for me now. My body was so weak I’d probably choke on my own vomit. It wasn’t that i wanted to die. Not really. I just didn't want to be this. This useless limp noodle. Not in this skin that felt too heavy, too uncoordinated, too weak. Maybe I could stumble into oncoming traffic. Maybe I’d vanish into a crowd or get taken out by rogues. The idea of slipping away, unnoticed, had it’s appeal. I’d just stop being a problem, a burden, to anyone. Even myself.
Suddenly a low, insistent vibration rattled against my thigh. Once. Twice. A third time. The sensation of my phone cut through the fog in my head like a life raft to a drowning man. I blinked, my chest tightening as my thoughts tried to pull me back under. That rhythmic hum wasn’t just a notification; it was a reminder that the world still needed something from me. I still existed even if it was easier not to. I shake the dark thoughts out of my head and swallowed down the guilt. Fumbling, i dug in my pocket and pulled my phone out. I hadn’t even read the name yet, but just the solid weight of the device in my hand was enough to hold me here. The next word came out like a thank you spoken not out of manners, but the full appreciation for being the only thing tethering me to my existence, “Cousin?”
“I’ve sent my location to you, I need your help.” Travis grunted around the sound of sobbing. Not recognizing the source of the sobs, I’m on my feet and headed out to my car before Travis even finished speaking. Travis would never know how much weight his single sentence held.