Unknotted

Chapter 7

Potion and a Creepy Stranger

Georgie

Not many things frightened me anymore. I didn’t have time to waste nursing fears, not when so many lives depended on me completing the mission. The name Harhort Lewisfur evoked the same intense reaction as my fear of ghosts, except fearing an infamous poacher wasn’t as ridiculous.

The blood drained from my head, making it spin. I snatched my glass and sucked up the last few drops. Harhort wasn’t well known on either hemisphere. He was more of a behind-the-scenes guy, known only to those invested in the Shadow Markets, or to those like me who try to take the Market down. Normally, I would welcome the chance to take out scum like Harhort, but there was a reason the word “notorious” was often attached to his name. No one, not even those serving on the front lines of the Expansion War, had more hybrid blood on their hands than him. He was the sadistic type, who liked to enthrall his prey and make them skin themselves alive.

Initial wave of fear overcome, my emotions settled into roiling heat. I swallowed the last of my soda down hard. Someday I would take Harhort out. But without my team or toolbelt, that day wasn’t today.

I went to stand when, as a new song started on the jukebox, one of the Keadanian soldiers crowed, “Turn it up!” The scrappy hybrid jumped on the bar, shifting into his beasts form, a lanky coyote with a rack of antlers. He struck a dramatic pose—nose lifted, tail aloft, antlers resting against his back—and howled.

The poor waitress paled, her voice shaking as she said, “You can’t have your paws on the counter, sir. Please, get down.”

The shifted soldier growled at her. “Keadan rules here now.”

I frowned. The scrappy hybrid had more dominance than I had originally assessed.

One of the dominants, the one disappointed that Dariya—whoever that was—wasn’t coming, grabbed the soldier by an antler. Whatever his beasts form was, it was strong. He easily lifted the soldier off the counter with one hand. “Sorry, ma’am. Not all Keadanians are uncivilized. I’ll deal with him.”

The soldier’s paws treaded the air as if he could run out of this dominant’s grip. “Aw, come on. I was just having a little fun.”

The dominant chuckled, so he couldn’t have been too angry with the soldier, but he also didn’t put him down.

I flipped the book open again to a random page and read as the dominant carried the soldier past.

The face of her mother’s murderer floated before her hazy vision. Felicity didn’t have the strength to stop him from plunging his blade into her heart, just as he had her mother. She would become his next victim.

Then, like a guardian Whisp descending from the Between, Dontello crashed through the glass ceiling.

Yep, I had seen that coming.

At the sound of the bell above the door jingling, I snapped the book shut, dropped it on the table, and checked the status of the hybrids at the bar. They weren’t paying me any mind, but I wouldn’t risk drawing their attention by leaving through the side door. I rose to exit through the front entrance, hoping to slip by the dominant and soldier if they were still in the parking lot, and realized that Harhort was watching me. Sliding my phone into my pocket, I risked a glance. He smirked like a predator closing in on its prey.

I made the mistake of locking eyes with him. The neon gleamed brighter, drawing me in and making my mind buzz with white noise. Where had I been going?

The bell above the door broke the enchanter’s thrall. I snapped my gaze away, heart dancing a jig in my throat. Eyes fixed on the floor, I berated myself for foolishly looking at an enchanter while the tide was in. I knew better than to do that.

The dominant had reentered the diner, patting his pockets and looking confused. I stepped to the side in deference, promising myself I would take a long vacation to Helt’s to decompress from all the submitting I was having to do tonight. Surprisingly, the dominant mumbled an “excuse me,” as he passed.

I glanced after him, brow quirked. So, some dominants could have manners. Most were too self-absorbed to pay attention to anyone except those within their tier.

I was three steps from the door, when that dominant called, “Ma’am, you forgot your book.”

I pretended not to hear—let him keep the stupid book.

“Hey, wait!” he called louder, his fast steps closing in behind me.

The urge to run grew, but that would only entice a dominant to chase, just for the sake of it. I stopped and turned, eyes kept on the straw wrappers and soiled napkins smashed into the dirt floor.

“Your book?” He stopped a comfortable distance away. A distance used by two strangers who had no quarrel with each other. That made it easier to breathe. It wasn’t often I met a dominant who didn’t instinctually loom over a submissive to confirm where each fell in the pecking order. Granting me space to breathe… Well, that was awfully courteous for a dominant.

I kept my eyes on his chest. His well-worn cotton tee pulled tight across his chest and shoulders, stretching the blocky, fading words I’d flex but I like this shirt printed across it.

Despite my nerves over Harhort still watching me and my irritation that I couldn’t gut the poacher right there in the booth, or perhaps because of that, I snorted back a laugh at the joke. I shouldn’t have because it encouraged him to take a half step closer.

“What’s so funny?” He tilted his head down and raised the book until it rested just below his chin, as if trying to encourage me to meet his eyes.

“Nothing,” I said softly. “Thank you for my book.” I reached for it, silently cursing R.F. Letcher. My little finger brushed his knuckle in the faintest touch. Magic condensed around us. The air grew so thick with it I could hardly draw breathe. It slithered around me, crawling up my back, around my arms and legs. It pulled me forward. Pulled me toward… him.

(Chapter continues in part 2)