his tankard, and I have to look away from him in order to not accidentally dump it on his lap.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice low.
I give him a thin smile, unable to do much more. I know I should express my gratitude, since he stood up for me, but the idea of lingering at this specific table, with these males, is not worth it. There’s something about them that elicits impulses I’m not prone to, and that has me briskly walking away.
When I get to the bar, Emji already has another set of drinks ready for me. “Take these to the Kejels and tell them this is their last round for the night.”
I slide my gaze to the rowdy bunch and then back to my boss. “What do I do if they get upset?”
“I’ll handle it.” He pats the countertop once, just above where his weapon lies in a hidden compartment. “If they know what’s good for them, they’ll leave soon. I don’t want to clean up after them anymore.”
The urge to roll my eyes is strong, but somehow I refrain. Emji never does any of the chores, which means that whatever these Kejels do to mess up the place, I’ll be the one who takes care of it. So I really hope Emji’s right and they leave soon.
After loading up the tray, I take a deep breath and make my way across the room. The wisps of fatigue have finally left me, and I mentally frown at myself. When Ezarith grabbed me, I wasn’t able to do anything except watch it happen. All the military training I received disappeared into thin air as if I’d never learned it. But what was even more shocking was that my unease warred with the need to stay close to him, to touch him. And to let him touch me. That is by far the scariest thing that’s happened to me in a long while.
I approach the Kejels’ table and clear my throat to gain their attention. They ignore me, continuing to gamble and exchange insults, most of which I would agree with.
“Here you go,” I say, raising my voice.
The closest male turns to look up at me, and we are almost the same height with me standing and him sitting. “Hey, now. The brew is here, and I am definitely thirsty,” he says.
The gleam in his eyes frightens me, but I meet and hold his stare. I don’t know what the fuck happened to me a few minutes ago at the Incarus table, but I’m back to my old self and there’s nothing telling me that I want to get close to, or touch, this male.
Quite the opposite.
After our silent standoff, I set down his mug, off to the side a little in order to keep my distance. I give him a wide berth and serve the male next to him, but his watchful gaze never leaves me. It’s times like this I regret ever leaving the washroom. However, I would do it again to help Niya. I know she’d do the same if I asked for her help.
I seek her out in the crowded room and immediately locate her busy at work, unloading a tray. From this far away, I can’t make out whether she’s all right, but I’ll be sure to ask her when we close for the night.
Just as I’m about to return to the task at hand, I lock eyes with Bravik. It’s fleeting but only because I turn my head right away. I can’t afford to give the wrong idea to any of these males, or it will encourage them to do unpleasant things to me.
Although, I can’t deny that Bravik could change my mind if he tried hard enough.
Because I’m not looking down, I don’t notice the Kejel’s hand moving until he seizes me by the elbow. The alcoholic beverages slosh over the rims of the tankards as I try to right myself.
“I said I was thirsty, female,” the Kejel says, his tone like gravel churning against itself. “Why don’t you give me a little service on the house?”
Just freaking great, another person manhandling me.
“Let go of me,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
If he doesn’t release me, then I’ll have no problem making him. I don’t ask myself why I wasn’t assertive like this just a few moments ago.
Unlike the last time someone touched me without my permission, I easily jerk my arm away. And once again the brew spills onto the tray at