Page 129 of The Omega Princess

I stopped short at that, wondering what it even meant.

Then I picked up the pace. Even so, I didn’t fall into step with him again. I walked behind him all the way to the bar.

We could hear the place before we could see it. The music was loud, the bass pounding out into the night air. There was someone checking IDs on the door. We didn’t tend to carry around things like driver’s licenses with us. None of us ever drove anywhere. Well, Sinclair had that motorcycle of his.

Back in the day, I remember he’d always tell me to bring cash for this part, to pay the bouncer to let us in and not say anything about who we were. But this time, we didn’t have that kind of cash and we certainly didn’t have IDs.

Sinclair just gave the guy a little grin. “That’s, ‘Need to see ID, Your Highness.’”

The bouncer looked up at him, furrowing his brow.

Sinclair threw his arm around me and pulled me in close.

The bouncer’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. Both of you.”

“We need the alley,” said Sinclair, and we just went right in.

He stopped at the bar and ordered two shots of whiskey. I wasn’t sure what he was intending to pay for them with, but it turned out he had a little cash in one of his pockets. He slapped that down and then turned to me, holding up his shot.

I picked up mine.

He clinked our glasses together.

Holding each other’s gaze, we downed the liquor at the same time. I felt it burn its way down into my stomach, loosening me and sharpening my emotions, all at the same time.

“You know,” I said, “I still want you. I never stopped wanting you.”

“I know,” he said with a cocky little smile.

I set down my empty shot glass. “And you,” I said in a quiet voice, “have never wanted me.”

“Oh, is that how you think it is?” He laughed under his breath, shaking his head.

“You never want anything,” I said.

“That’s not true,” he said.

“I think what you must want,” I said, “is to destroy things, because that’s all that you ever do.”

He set down his shot glass. “Okay, well, you want to fight, let’s do it. We can knock over a few bar stools first or just head straight for the alley. Tell me how you want it to go, huh, Devlin? You want to drive your fist into my face again? I’m the one who destroys things?”

“I don’t want to want you, you know that?”

“Yes, I do.” His nostrils flared. “Believe me, no one’s ever liked that they wanted me. No one at all.” He sighed. “Well, maybe Rohan.”

“Why do you submit to him?” I said. “What does Rohan possibly have that I don’t?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s not a selfish dick who makes every relationship about himself,” said Sinclair with a shrug.

I rolled my eyes.

Sinclair made a face, rolling his head on his shoulders. And then, before I even had the chance to see it coming, he hit me. His fist shot out and caught me on the bottom of my chin.

My head snapped back, pain radiating out from the place where he’d made contact. I let out a roar and lunged for him. I bent him back over the bar, my face hovering over his, baring my teeth. “Submit,” I said.

“Fuck you, Devlin Byrne,” he said.

The bartender put a hand down next to where I had Sinclair bent backwards. “Take it outside.” Then the bartender stacked our empty glasses and took them away, as if this was just normal around here. Which, basically, it was.

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