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“Yer kind ain’t welcome here.” A rough feminine voice laden with a heavy southern accent snatched my attention from the posturing men. The woman who stood at my table was what I’d describe as “scrappy.” Her clothes were stained, worn, and had holes that needed patching. Through a particular hole, a bright red bra peeked out from the dingy tee. Her weathered jeans sagged low on her waist, their bagginess almost swallowing her legs. Dark sandy hair sat in a grease-filled mop in a lopsided bun. “This is yer only warnin’. Leave,” she said with a sharp glare.

I propped my chin on my fist and graced her with a close-lipped grin. “Afraid I can’t do that yet,” I said, bored with the situation.

‘Scrappy’ bared her teeth and shook her head. “Thearr-o-gance and self-righteousness of yer kind is disgustin’. No regard for anybody but yer damn selves. Git. Out.”

“And whatismy kind exactly, Scrappy?” I raised my eyebrows, curious to hear her colorful response.

“The devil kind. The kind that’s an abomination to our god-given planet. The kind that destroyed ev’rything for ev’rybody. Ya don’t fuckin’ belong here. Now, git.” Her sunbaked skin crinkled on her forehead from her hard scowl. When I didn’t move to leave, she jerked an arm, pointing to the exit.

“You sure have a lot of balls to talk to someone you believe is the ‘devil’s kind.’” I was uneasy and outnumbered. And apparently, humans had discovered a way to make bullets to kill us, as I’d learned with Dash. I refused to let her see it, though. Showing weakness was what got you killed in this world.

Heaving unrestrained breaths, she launched herself at me from across the wooden barrel table. I dodged to the side, leaping from my seat, and watched her sail over the top, crashing to the floor in a heap.

Nice.

I didn’t have any weapons on me, which left me vulnerable, nor did I have my magic freed. I could fix that, but it’d open more doors for trouble that I didn’t think I’d be able to escape.

Scrappy scrambled to her feet and lunged at me again, this time slinging a fist at my face. I jerked my head to the side and caught her fist, squeezing it in my palm as my eyes locked with hers, filled with rage, hatred, and fear.

I kicked her in the gut, and she stumbled back several feet before her back slammed into the corner wall.

I stalked toward her as she gasped for air. One of her hands braced her weight against the wall, and the other clutched her abdomen. I grabbed her by her oily roots and slammed her head into the wall. She dropped to the floor with a scream.

Suddenly, the loud chatter of the speakeasy muted.

I squatted until I was at eye level with her and said softly, “I wasn’t here to hurt anyone.” She cradled her head in her palm as I watched her. “Butyou pissed me off,” I continued with a shrug. “Can’t really blame this on me.”

Before I could do anything else, I was snatched by my arm, hauled to my feet, and came face to face with an irate Griffin. His crystalline glare seared into me, burning me to the spot, his grip on my arm bruising.

“Let me go, asshole,” I growled through clenched teeth.

He didn’t. Instead, he jerked me toward the exit without a word. Angry faces and outraged voices yelled obscenities and death wishes at me as we shoved through the establishment. At some point, a hand snagged on my hood, jerking me backward to a halt. Griffin continued to yank me forward like he was in a game of tug of war.

With limited mobility, I pivoted on one foot and threw a high kick that struck a guy’s head. A tall, broad man sailed backward, taking severalothers out with him as he crashed into a cluster of dirt-stained humans who demanded my death.

Griffin pulled me forward again. Fury poured from his aura in waves, which only fueled my own. Those surrounding him backed up despite their brave words. When we reached the door, he hefted it open and slung me through into the torch-lined tunnel.

“Move,” he ordered, latching onto my biceps again while pulling me toward the metal ladder.

“Let go. I’m not a fucking child.” I yanked my arm from his grasp. Griffin didn’t fight me as he ascended to the ground above. I climbed after him, right on his heels, waiting for the mob to follow us out.

Reaching topside, Griffin whirled on me. Any hints of the kindness he’d displayed up until this point were gone. He was the embodiment of wrath with clenched fists and a coiled posture.

“I could’ve told you lounging in a speakeasy was a bad idea,” I said, shaking my head. I couldn’t believe he was mad atmefor what happened back there. An ice-blonde lock broke free from its loose knot and drifted into my face. It blocked my view of him, so I shoved it aside with a growl of frustration.

“You have no fucking clue what you nearly cost…” Griffin cut himself off and pinched his brow between his fingers. His chest heaved as he worked to calm himself. After several harsh breaths, he finally looked at me. “You nearly fucked up everything and almost got yourself killed in the process,” he snarled, throwing his arms wide as if trying to physically expel the rage radiating from his aura.

I opened my mouth in indignation. “Ididn’t do a damn thing except defend myself. And what business do you have with humans, anyway? You looked pretty damn cozy with Jesse in there.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut, could you? Can’t you at leastpretendto be nice to the people who are actually suffering? No wonder…” He shook his head. Instead of finishing his sentence, he turned around and began storming back the way we came.

“No wonder what?” I hurried to keep pace with his rushed, long strides.

He said nothing, so we moved in tense silence. I wanted to press him, but I needed to calm down before I reacted out of anger and ended up in another compromising position. I couldn’t afford any more slip-ups at this point.

Finally, Griffin spoke. “I need supplies. There’s a scorse nearby. Think you can behave?” He didn’t so much as spare me a glance.

A scorse?