City of Thorns (The Demon Queen Trials #1)(7)

And most importantly, I was sure Mom didn’t have a horrific past.

My breath shallowed. The room felt too hot, stifling. I turned to Shai, desperate to leave. “I'm going to go out and get some fresh air. Maybe we can find another bar.”

“I’ll settle the tab,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Unnerved, I hurried to the door. When I pushed through to the street outside, my skin started to cool under a light rain. Cirque de la Mer was on a narrow, cobbled street in the old sailor district by the harbor. Across the street stood a brewery, which might make a better option for tonight. They served hot dogs, and for whatever reason, I didn’t imagine demons went to places that served hot dogs.

I hugged myself as I shivered. Somehow, I’d made an enemy of a terrifying demon duke, and I had no idea how. One thing Mom taught me before she died was that everyone had a weakness. The Lord of Chaos’s weakness—I’d guess—was the woman he’d mistaken me for. The woman who haunted his nightmares.

I took a deep, calming breath. Out here, the salty breeze skimmed over my skin, the scent of the Atlantic heavy in the air. I licked my lips, tasting salt.

Here was the thing: I used to think my mom was deeply paranoid with the way she talked about defending yourself and finding weaknesses. She was a social worker who helped people with traumatic histories. And I had to wonder if she’d had one of her own, because she relentlessly pushed me to take self-defense classes, to learn martial arts. She was obsessed with fighting, convinced that enemies were after us. She was sure that one day, a demon would come calling.

I did everything she wanted me to do. I took every martial arts class in Osborn, and I practiced with her on the weekends. She taught me to search out other people’s weaknesses in a fight, to exploit them, to fight back. I always thought she was training me for a war that didn't exist, but the night she died, I learned the war was real. I just had no idea why she’d been killed.

As I stared at the glass doors of the brewery, three frat boys stumbled out, already drunk, wearing their Alpha Kappa shirts. I slunk back into the shadows, hoping to go unnoticed.

A slender blonde hurried out behind them, her shoulders tense. She was staggering, clearly drunk. But she looked freaked out, too. I had the sense she was trying to get away from someone.

When the door slammed open again and Jack prowled out after her, I had my answer. I wasn’t the only one he terrorized.

His eyes were locked on the girl, and my heart sped up.

“Jen!” he slurred. “Where you going? Jen! Stop being a fucking bitch! You should feel lucky I paid attention to you. You should feel lucky…I’m the best quarterback Osborne State ever had. I have business plans you can’t even imagine, Jen. I’m gonna be a billionaire. A trillionaire! I’m gonna be on TV.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but it was confirming the suspicions I already had about him. Narcissistic personality disorder: inflated sense of self-importance, preoccupation with power fantasies. A deeply insecure foundation badly covered up with pretenses of superiority and exaggerated achievements.

The blonde—Jen—stumbled over one of the cobblestones. That was when he lunged for her and grabbed her arm. She turned to face him, her eyes wide. “Let me go! You’re being a dick, Jack.”

“Jen!” he shouted in her face. “You were being a disgusting slut. You should be grateful I’m even talking to you.” With that, he gripped her arm hard and started to drag her toward the alley beside the bar.

“Stop it!” she yelled.

He pulled her in close to his body and clamped his hand over her mouth.

Oh, fuck this. I’d seen enough. My fight-or-flight response had started to kick in, and adrenaline pumped hard through my veins.





Chapter 5





I rushed after them and shouted, “Get your hands off her, Jack!”

He whirled around, and the surprise on his face quickly turned into a leer. He wasn’t giving up his grip on the blonde.

He grinned widely, moving closer to me with Jen in his arms. “Rowan, baby, are you stalking me? Were you hoping to get another chance with me? I told you, I don’t want you to suck my dick. I’d get a disease.”

He jerked her along with him as he staggered over to me.

“Let go of her,” I said coldly.

He kept moving closer until I could feel his rancid breath on my face. He reeked of vomit, which told me he had probably just been kicked out of the brewery for puking. Classy.

The silver hammer on his shirt glinted under the streetlights.

“Let go of Jen,” I said. “I don’t want to have to hit you again.”

A lie. I definitely wanted to hit him again, but I didn’t want to get in trouble for it. I was honestly surprised he hadn’t pressed charges already.

Jack, sadly, was too stupid to heed my warning, and he didn’t release his victim.

Now, my heart was starting to speed up, and anger coursed through my blood.

Male voices echoed from the left, and I turned to see that his friends had come back to find him. I hoped one of them would intervene so I wouldn’t have to get my hands dirty. Instead, one of them whooped at him, delighted. “Jack! You got two. Can we join the party?”

“I asked you once, nicely,” I told Jack. “If I have to ask again, I’ll hurt you.”