Page 33 of Fear the Flames
“I can’t believe it.” I turn my head so Cayden can hear me. He’s so close that the back of my head brushes his shoulder. “There are people here that actually like you.” Saskia finds us a small table with five chairs around it and tosses her cloak over one of them. I mirror her actions and take a seat.
“Funny,” Cayden slides his leather jacket off his shoulders before sitting next to me, “I thought the same thing about you when you were saying goodbye to your guards.”
“You just have a natural talent for pissing me off.”
“It’s precisely why I reserve my bad qualities for you.”
“You have good qualities?” I gasp.
“You’ll see them one day,” he smirks.
Finnian and Ryder come back to the table with a tray of twenty shots in Finnian’s hands. “We placed an order for regular drinks that’ll be brought over, but in the meantime….” Finnian waves his hands over the tray of shots and plops down in the seat on my other side.
“The two of you aren’t allowed to gauge how many shots to order,” Saskia mutters, staring down the tray like it’s about to bite her but grabbing a shot like the rest of us.
“We should toast,” Finnian suggests while holding his shot in the air. “Help me.” He nudges me with his elbow.
I search my brain, trying to come up with something as four sets of eyes flash toward me. “To having a common enemy?”
“Fair point,” Ryder acknowledges. “I’ll drink to that.”
“To wanting to murder the same people and not each other!” Finnian cheers as we clink our glasses together and throw back a shot of whiskey.
We’re a really fucked up group.
I think I like it.
We keep going until there are no shots left. I slam my fourth empty glass on the table, feeling delightfully giddy.
“That’s my girl!” Finnian nudges me in the side; a broad smile covers his face while he takes in my reddened cheeks and glossy eyes. Alcohol goes straight to my head. I’m a lightweight, and he loves it. Downing four shots in a row probably wasn’t the best decision, but bad decisions often lead to the best memories. My tongue feels dry; I want more shots.
I cup my hands around my mouth and lean toward his ear, “We should get more.”
He chuckles softly, “Cider first.”
I frown, “What if I chase every shot with a sip of cider?”
“I can’t encourage your bad ideas in front of the new people. Save them for later.” I’m sure everyone else can hear our conversation judging by their snickers…maybe we weren’t as quiet as I thought we were.
“Your drinks,” says a male server while placing our drinks around the table, giving a double take to Finnian. I nudge him with my leg under the table, and he nudges me right back. Finnian meets the server’s eyes while taking a sip from his pint. Color rises on the server’s tan cheeks. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he mutters before scurrying away in the direction of the bar.
“I love bubbles,” Saskia marvels while looking at the glass of cider in front of her. Yay, a fellow ale hater!
“I know. They’re like friends inside of your drink,” I sigh while staring at my own glass of cider. Who knew bubbly alcoholic fruit juice could be so mesmerizing?
“Exactly!” She claps her hands in front of her, causing Ryder to jump in his seat and Cayden to snicker again. Her dark eyes flash to Cayden, “When do you go back to the border?”
“Yes, normally, you’d be at the border by now.” Ryder’s eyes follow suit. “I wonder what’s different this time.” He leans back in his seat, easing one leg over the other while clutching his pint and taking a sip.
“Soon,” Cayden replies shortly.
“When can I go?” I ask, turning my attention to him.
“When I’m sure it’s safe,” he answers without looking at me.
I narrow my eyes on him, but he seems to be in a broody mood, so I don’t push him. He’s fully aware I can take care of myself, and I’d rather not sprint headfirst toward the Imirath army without being prepared. The other three have fallen into a conversation and—oh gods! What if one of them tells Finnian about the heist before I do? I forgot to ask Cayden if they know. My brain is too fuzzy to process all the damage that could cause. I bite my lip and my hands tighten around the cool glass of cider. The chilling sensation is helping me keep my nerves at bay. Cayden’s head whips in my direction, as if my mood shift set off alarm bells in his mind. He dips his hand between us and pulls my chair closer to his, draping his arm across the back of it. My body fights the mixture of wanting to inch closer and wanting to sprint away. My brain and body are at constant odds when it comes to him, which is something I’ve never had to deal with and also something I loathe.
“What’s wrong?” He still wears his broodiness on the forefront of his expression, but the crease between his brows hints at curiosity…maybe even concern.
