Page 41 of Insurrection
With my emotions cooled, I still felt pain radiating through me, but now it was paired with concern that he’d done something stupid tonight. Drayven wasn’t usually very reactionary, but his emotions earlier had been lethal and toxic.
“Ama...” His voice was filled with emotion that I’d never heard from him before. A sick curiosity had me pressing my hand against the locked door.
“What, Dray?” I asked softly, feeling emotionally and physically drained.
I heard him lean into the door, the surface groaning under the weight of his massive frame. “Please let me in. I don’t want to sleep out here without you.”
Oh, devil. He was drunk. Like drunk as a skunk. I could tell.
I inhaled sharply, “It shouldn’t be different than usual—it's not like we ever sleep together.”
“Not by my choice,” he seemed to grumble to himself. “Please, Ama? I don’t want to be apart from you. Not after today. I feel like I’m going to lose you.”
“You never had me,” I snapped, and he let out a low, frustrated growl.
“That’s not true,” he ground out. “You were always mine. Which is why I went to beat the shit out of Adrien. No one else should ever kiss you—”
I swung the door open and found his massive form crumpled against the door frame, falling forward slightly as he stumbled. The smell of whiskey surrounded us as I looked up at him, my arms crossed over my chest while I examined the frustrating bastard.
“You’re in my shirt.” He smiled, a goofy, almost boyish grin, “Fuck, Ama, you look so good in my clothes. I want to mark every inch of your—”
I tried closing the door so he wouldn’t see my reaction, but he stopped it and let out a small worried sound, “Fine. Fine. I’ll behave, I promise.”
“You went to beat up Adrien?” I asked softly, concerned for all parties involved. I didn’t want any of them fighting over me. I wasn’t worth that.
“Yeah,” he muttered, stepping closer to me as the moonlight from the main room’s open window showcased dried blood on his face. I cursed and dragged him towards the bathroom, my eyes widening at the number done on his pretty face.
“Adrien did this?” I asked with surprise, dampening a wet rag. I wasn’t going to examine why all of this made me feel…weird. Just weird.
“No.” He barked out a laugh, “Bastard wouldn’t fight me.”
Sadness filled his gaze, “Said I wasn’t worth it.”
Fuck.
“I’m sure he just didn’t want to fight,” I breathed out, still trying to get rid of the blood. “How did you get injured, then?”
“Finias,” he growled. “I was down at the bar—”
“Yes, that much is clear.” I offered him a dry look.
“I’d been drinking for a bit when Adrien and Damien arrived. I figured I would tell Adrien to fuck off and leave you alone because you’re my girl—”
“Which I’m not,” I muttered quietly, but he ignored me.
“He wouldn’t fight me,” he hissed. “And fucking Finias appeared out of nowhere and tried to tell me you’d be upset if I ‘did this’. I tried to tell him he didn’t know you, Ama. I tried to tell him he didn’t understand us.”
“And he hit you?” I knew there had to be moments missing from this timeline.
Drayven’s ears turned pink, “No. That happened after I told him he would never be good enough for you.”
Ah. Damnit.
“Well—” I started but was immediately cut off.
“Then, when we were fighting, the fucking House of Fallen prince came out of nowhere and tried to separate us.” He rolled his eyes, grunting as I touched his nose, which was thankfully not broken. “I have no idea why they were all there—maybe being a royal means you have to drink at a special time every night or some shit, and I was just misfortunate enough to have chosen the same bar.”
I snorted at that, shaking my head as he offered me that cute smile again. His eyes went serious suddenly as he cupped my face, and my entire body froze.
