Page 68 of Rocky Top

I was three feet away now, closin’ in, but Birdie didn’t need me.

Shestood.

All five-foot-nothin’ of her, heels clickin’ against the concrete, shoulders squared like she’d been born for war.

“I’ve met raccoons with better manners,” she said. “And they wash their hands.”

Delilah’s jutted out her chin. “You don’t know what he really is.”

Birdie’s face crinkled as she stepped in close. “But I know what you are. Bitter. Bored. And about five seconds from gettin’ knocked on your ass.”

I opened my mouth to shut it down, to pull Birdie back before things got bloody, but then Delilah shoved her.

Bad move.

Birdie didn’t hesitate.

She swung.

And holy hell, shelandedit.

Delilah staggered back into the bar, one hand to her cheek, eyes wide with shock. But she wasn’t done. She lunged, nails out, and the two of them went down in a tangle of wild hair, legs, and high-pitched fury.

“Shit,” I growled, shovin’ through the crowd that’d already gathered. “Enough!”

I yanked Delilah back by the waist. She kicked like a damn mule, cussin’ in three languages. One of them not human.

Birdie popped up with a scratch on her neck, hair a mess, dress twisted sideways but smilin’ like a queen who’d just won a duel.

“Get her outta here,” I barked at Smokey, tossin’ Delilah toward the door. “Now.”

“Gladly,” Smokey muttered, already draggin’ her out by the arm.

Delilah shouted over her shoulder, “This ain’t over, Rocky!”

“Yes, it fucking is,” I snapped.

I turned to Birdie, chest still heaving, pulse roarin’ in my ears.

“You alright?”

She wiped a drop of blood from her lip and nodded. “I’m fine. She just pushed the wrong button.”

“Hell,” I muttered, tryin’ not to laugh. “You punched the wrong button right in the face.”

She tilted her head, grinnin’. “She knows about you?”

My jaw flexed.

“Yeah,” I said.

“You tell all the girls?” she asked, clearly upset.

“I didn’t tell her. She’s not normal…”

“She’s like you? And you’re not with her?”

“That’s right.”

---