Page 26 of House of Ruin
“We need to let Val and the rest know that something is going on,” Alecto said.
11
“You’re fucking cheating, Leveau!” Killer scoffed when one ball fell right into the hole at the far-left corner of the pool table, while the other kicked off the side and dropped into the same hole a moment after.
A few claps and giggles went around them, where a decent crowd of beautiful witches and warlocks had gathered while they played.
Their eyes glided down Blaze’s body. He could taste their eagerness on his tongue.
Blaze straightened his back, pulling the wand to his chest as he smirked, triumphant.
“You’re just mad you lost,” Blaze cooed with a shrug. “Pay up, Killer-boy.”
Grumbling curses and the Gods knew what else under his breath, Killer fished out a chunk of cash out of his back pocket and dropped it on the pool table.
Leaning over it, Blaze snatched the bundle in a swift movement. Instead of stuffing it into his pocket, he went for a little bit of a show.
Slowly, Blaze licked his thumb and went through the notes, one by one, counting them for all to see.
“Seriously?” Killer arched a brow, bringing the bottle of beer to his lips. “Fucker.”
With a chuckle, Blaze shrugged. “You never know. Rumor has it the Rats have been struggling financially.”
Killer scoffed again, clearly bristling as a few laughs went around. Hendrix cupped his palms over his mouth and cooed something about his daddy and mommy cutting the supply chain.
Blaze wasn’t listening anymore.
As he stuffed the cash in his jeans’ pocket, he waded towards the bar through the crowd of intoxicated or almost-intoxicated students gathered in Sparkling Hoof.
Tonight, Blaze was alone. Val was busy with whatever the fuck she did.
You’ll know when the time’s right, she’d told him before she whirled and walked down Main Avenue, away from the bar.
And Andro was busy with his fucktoy.
So, here Blaze was, all alone and on his third drink of the night.
There was one empty stool at the bar, and Blaze sat on it, trying to catch the bartender’s eye. A loud wave of chatter went around, followed by a burst of laughter.
When Blaze glanced back, it was only a few of the Snakes; he recognized Cadre amongst them, involved in a heated discussion with a few folks from the Pigs.
They were all perched at the far corner of the bar, in one of many booths. The reclaimed-wood table they occupied had seen better days, a few dozen half-empty glasses stacked atop it, not an inch of space left.
Darly’s only decent bar couldn’t compare to bars in the Upper North Side. Blaze would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the sophisticated buzz of all the glitz and glamour that Avalon Hills had to offer.
Anything was better than this moody Victorian shithole stuffed with Venefica’s students, really.
Bea caught Blaze’s eye, sitting on Cadre’s left, her mouth still sealed shut. Her focus wasn’t on their table and the heated conversations going around, though, but rather on Blaze.
Right then, a rocks glass with whiskey landed in front of Blaze. Smirking, Blaze winked and tilted his glass in cheers towards Bea before taking a sip.
Suddenly flustered, she averted her eyes, her cheeks glowing red, from embarrassment or anger, Blaze couldn’t tell.
If he had to guess, it was probably a mixture of both.
Blaze turned his back on the floor and leaned his elbows on the bar as he sipped on the scorching liquid.
Either Blaze was getting used to the taste of whiskey, or the bartender had given him it mixed with water, because the sting from it going down his throat wasn’t really there.
