Magical Midlife Meeting (Leveling Up #5)(12)

My wings itched at my back, my gargoyle threatening to claw its way out, and a pinkish-purple sheen vibrated into being around my body, trailing my movements.

I could have sworn a bell rang in the distance. A death knell. I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, or if Ivy House was fueling the fire, telling me to protect what was mine.

Mine.

A stocky woman with white-blonde hair—Isabelle—stepped forward suddenly and rammed into the younger woman, knocking her sideways into a crowd of male shifters watching the scene with grim faces. She screamed as she tried to correct on four-inch stilettos, but the excessive alcohol hindered her movements. She scrabbled at one of the shifters as she fell, trying to grasp an arm or a hand.

The man, a newer guy I’d seen patrolling the streets in jeans and a white shirt, pulled his hands away and stepped back, getting out of her way. The others followed suit, letting her fall.

“Oh my God, what the hell?” the woman demanded, fighting with her long, wavy blonde hair as she tried to look around.

“He’s taken,” Isabelle said, looking down on her.

“You bitch,” the woman yelled, pushing to her knees, but Isabelle was already walking away, her message delivered.

The newer guy looked down at the woman, his face impassive. “If you’re smart, you’ll never look at him again, not even when he’s talking to you. Best to take the warning.”

“Oh my God, Brittany, what happened?” Two other women descended, having heard their friend’s cries, and pushed through the crowd to get to her. “Who did this to you?”

“Hold my earrings. I’ll deal with this,” said one of them, a girl with short red hair and big hoop earrings.

“That big bitch that just walked out.” The first woman let her friends haul her to her feet, all of them swaying like new sailors on a boat in stormy seas. “Forget her. It’s not worth it.” Isabelle might have been the one who’d shoved her—and I knew exactly how that felt—but the woman had clearly sensed something from me, even if she didn’t understand it. She speared me with a glance, hatred burning deep in her red-rimmed eyes. “Whore.”

She spun and let her friends help her away, but they weren’t agitated enough to leave the bar— they just headed back to their seats. The loud guys I’d heard earlier were probably waiting for them.

“Those Dicks down there are going to take offense for their friend,” Niamh murmured, then took a sip of her drink. “They’ll probably start a row.”

“Nah.” Austin had hardly moved, watching me with hunger plain in his eyes. “They aren’t friends; they’re just trying to get laid. They’re cowards. If they don’t convince the girls to leave, I’ll have someone escort them out before things…escalate.”

I stared after the three women, expecting to feel bad for my outburst. Or embarrassed. Or even fearful. A swell of possessiveness had taken over my better judgment, and I’d almost used magic to strike down a Jane. And although I wasn’t even sure what spell would have zipped out at her, I sensed that it would have been a bad one. Maybe bad enough that I wouldn’t have been able to heal her.

But I didn’t feel either of those things.

I stared after them for a moment longer, that pinkish-purple light still shimmering around me, and Austin’s heartbeat felt just a little more powerful in my chest. His presence comforted and soothed me, helping me back down.

“I’m going crazy, that’s what this is,” I said softly, bracing a hand on the back of my seat. “This magic, or the bond, or my gargoyle is making me go crazy.”

“Edgar is crazy,” Niamh said. “That fool Mr. Tom is crazy, naming weapons based on their ‘personality.’ The basajaun might just be nuts, as well. The ruling is out on him. Ye aren’t crazy, though. Ye’re owning yer space, that’s all. That trollop pushed into yer space, trying to get a rise out of you, and if Austin’s people weren’t here to keep the bar in one piece, ye would’ve pushed her right back out. That’s within reason. Sure she started it! How is that yer fault?”

I shook my head and finished my wine.

“Your reaction is expected for a shifter,” Austin said, putting his empty glass on the bar. He set his hand on the small of my back. “It was definitely within reason for an alpha sliding toward the mating bond.”

“I’m not a shifter.”

Austin looked down at me, his cobalt eyes taking on a sheen from the sparkly light still shedding from my skin. “No, you are not. And not a single shifter in the world would hold that against you.” He bent down and kissed me softly. “Let’s go get some dinner. You’ll need sustenance for what I’m going to do to you later.”

I smiled at him. “I’m going to hold you to that promise.”





FIVE

AUSTIN COULDN’T HELP but smile back. Jess wasn’t his mate yet, so it was slightly unorthodox for an alpha to be so openly affectionate in public, but he felt like a little kid at Christmas. Jess had just given her beast the wheel, and his people had needed to step in to calm things down. They knew the score: Austin would have been powerless to stop her.

Mating bonds were tricky. When a shifter saw that his future mate was defending his claim on her, there wasn’t a hope in hell that he’d intervene. Even if his own bar came tumbling down around them.