The Emperor of Evening Stars by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 21 Another Man

3 years ago

Every day I try.

And every day I fail.

I toss the shots of Patrón back, one after the next, the alcohol burning my throat as it goes down. I don’t bother with limes or salt. I want to feel the bite of the tequila, the burn of the pain.

The photo sits heavy in my pocket. I can’t bear to look at it again; I can’t bear to get rid of it either.

I’ve savored almost all the information I’ve learned of Callie since we’ve been apart. How much of a ballbuster she is now, how resourceful she can be. How she could’ve used her voice to become a singer or her body to become a model, but instead she used her wits and her spirit to become a private investigator.

I’ve savored almost all the information I’ve learned … except for this.

That face I dream about, with those smiling eyes and beguiling mouth. Right now they’re looking at another man, kissing another mouth, and I have the proof of it in my pocket.

A hot wave of jealousy rises up in me.

Damnit, I can’t get the photo out of my mind, though it’s been over an hour since I last looked at it. The tight embrace the two shared outside the man’s apartment. I can taste bile at the back of my throat.

Should’ve been me.

I didn’t want to know the rest of what happened between the two, but I learned it nonetheless. How she joined him inside the apartment, how she didn’t leave until the early hours of the morning, slipping away like a villain from the scene of a crime, her clothes a little disheveled, her hair a little messy.

I flag down the waiter for another shot. When he slides it to me and I throw it back, the tequila tastes like water.

How long I’ve waited for my mate, and how quickly she was snatched just beyond my reach.

I have a rare moment of self-pity.

I’m the powerless bastard all those fae thought I was growing up. And the human mate my father derided me for, the one I spent decades denying, is now being pleasured by some other man while I sit here, numbing my sorrows on mortal brew.

Just as quickly as the pity comes, it burns away. Taking its place is anger—dark, smoldering anger.

I need to pound my fist into flesh.

I throw a few twenties on the table and leave the bar, going through my list of clients and honing in on the meanest motherfuckers who were never planning on paying me back without a fight. When I lay into them tonight, I’ll imagine it’s a different face, a different man.

Anything to dull this ache and expel this anger.

Perhaps I’ll even leave my business card behind as a tantalizing breadcrumb that the Politia can add to their ever-thickening file on me. Maybe it’ll even catch Callie’s notice. You never know.

Regardless, it’s about time I reminded humans why the Bargainer is someone to fear.