Holy invasion of all invasions!
GET OUT OF MY HEAD, YOU MONSTER ASSHOLE!
He winced, but I felt him withdrawing, and I gotta admit, that was a different sensation too. I wasn’t sure if I Iiked it, or was relieved, or disappointed.
That’d be for pondering later, a lot later, preferably a drunk me later.
“What are you planning for me again?”
His eyebrows lowered. “Why?” He blinked a few times, and I was thinking he needed to get that same visualization out of his head now.
Maybe I should invite him back in? I could go through the entire scene.
And the fork. I didn’t think I’d ever forget what I did with the fork.
Well. I threw it. At her vagina, then I had a strong urge to get the fuck out of there.
“What are the chances we could stop at a liquor store?”
He tilted his head forward, then blinked. “You were in dire straits to save your demon best friend, and now you’re asking if we can pull over to a liquor store?”
I sighed, slouching down in the vehicle. “I’m resigned to my fate. You’re right. Nik’s probably going to be fine. It’s dissension night, she usually avoids those like the plague, but she’s old enough where she’s supposed to be paying homage, so I get it. Which brings me back to my original plan for the night: getting drunk. Can we stop at a store?” I thought about it. “Can I owe you too? I didn’t bring my wallet with me.”
Which goes to show how drunk I was when I first left, or how blessed I am that I wouldn’t need my wallet getting to a nightclub, inside the club, and also with a free drink. I felt like that was all kinds of points owed me.
I grinned. “I’m in ‘dire straits’ to get liquored up if that’s any consolation.”
Another point for using ‘dire straits.’
He stared at me for ten more seconds before he released the slightest amount of air. He put his phone in his pocket at the same time as he hit a button overhead. “The nearest liquor store, Leon.”
“Yes, sire.”
Sire. Jeez.
I had no idea how to use that word in a sentence without sounding lame.
“Is there anything else you’d like? Lobster? A fresh human to feed off their energy?”
“Gross. I don’t do that.”
He was pulling his phone back out as it was buzzing, and he swiped the screen as he responded, “Of course you do, you’re an energy sensor.”
“Yeah. I sense energy. I don’t eat it.”
I felt the air shift in the car. Or the energy.
It was suddenly very, very tense, and I held my breath, noting the changes that came over him. His phone was ignored as his gaze was locked on me. I was pinned in place.
“You don’t eat energy?”
“No. That’s disgusting and a huge violation. Who am I to take their energy from them?”
“A relief to some, sexual to others.”
“Huh?”
I’d heard that wrong. Right?
“Where did you grow up?”
“Here.”
“You were not taught the proper way to be an energist?”
I grinned. “No, Sire Big Bad Ass. Apparently, I got no clue how to be an energist, which is what I’ve been all my life.”
So many points for me. I got ‘energist’ in there, on top of sire.
“You cannot be an energist and still be alive if you don’t eat energy.”
“That’s really gross. Can we stop talking about eating and energy? I don’t want to eat anyone’s energy. That’s emotion, and other things, and ew. All sorts of ew going on here.”
“You’re not human.”
He made that sound like it was an accusation. “You’re not either.”
“Psychics are humans who can feel energy, see energy, see auras. That’s what you do, but you are not human. You’re telling me you eat like a normal human? Their food and all?”
“Yes. What do you eat?” WAIT! “I don’t want to know that. Don’t tell me that.” Ohmygod! “Unless you’re going to eat me? Are you going to eat me?!” My voice hitched on a high note at the end.
I winced, hearing it.
We all did things we weren’t proud of.
“I’m not planning on eating you.”
I sank back in my chair. “That’s a relief.”
“I have a different use for you.”
He opened the door and got out.
I looked. We’d arrived outside of Harry Bahls’ Liquors.
9
Sire Bad Ass
Five minutes later, another whiskey bottle in hand, and I was happy.
I asked if I could put on some music. Sire Bad Ass (more points for me) said yes, and twenty minutes later I was now a whole new level of buzzed. A rap song by BRASAH featuring Koda was filling the air, and the whiskey was barely a burn by now.
“Do you know the language this song is in?”
I shook my head. “Not a clue. It came up as a recommended song on my Spotify.” I gave him a tipsy grin. “Do you?”
His eyes darkened. “Yes.”
Oh. Well, I wasn’t curious enough to ask what the song was about. The title said “Blue Jeans” so I had a good guess what it was about.
“So where are we going now?”
He looked at me, at the whiskey, and I could swear a flash of envy flashed there. Then it was gone, but so was his phone. He stuffed it into his pocket and swiped my booze.
“Hey!” I started to sit up, but he motioned to me.
“Sit down.”
I watched as he took a drink, and nothing. The corners of that impossibly pretty mouth of his turned down at the ends. “It’s been a century since I’ve drunk like a normal human. I forgot what something like this tasted like.” He handed it back. “I can see why I forgot it.”
I glared at him, swiping it and cradling it like it was a baby to my chest. I stroked the neck. “Don’t listen to the Big Bad. He’s too worldly to appreciate what we lower beings worship.”
His head turned to view the outside, but the edge of his mouth lifted. “Maybe. I’m used to power blasting me. Envy. Greed. Hate. Ruthlessness. Deadliness. I wade
