Page 44 of Hellish Witch (Playing with Demons #3)
“ M ost men would be put off by a girl with muscles like that, but I still think you look hot,” a smooth male voice almost shouted by my ear.
I didn’t bother turning around.
Anyone opening with the classic ‘negging’ trick wasn’t going to be getting any action from me. He could look like an Adonis sent from Cupid to soak my panties, and I’d still tell him to go fuck himself after such a sly insult.
The man hovered, clearly not getting the hint. Maybe he thought my tiny female brain needed longer to absorb his underhanded compliment before swooning.
I took a sip of my drink, savouring the creaminess of the thick stout, then placed the pint down onto the sticky wood. The dark liquid dropped too close to the bottom of the glass for my liking.
“And yet you think it’s smart to pick me up with a line like that? How do you think I got so toned, pal?”
“Are you threatening me?” He scoffed, a small noise for so much entitled disbelief. “I knew you’d be a fucking dyke. If you don’t like dick, just say so.”
I whirled around and brushed a stray lock of indigo back behind my ear as I assessed the sneering idiot, determined to ruin my already crappy night.
Classically handsome, if on the slightly plain boy-next-door vibe, with perfect skin, bright blue eyes and a generous mop of sandy blonde hair, he was good-looking and confident enough that I’d bet he didn’t usually get rejected.
“Oh no, I love dick.” I licked my lips at an exaggerated slow pace. “Just the thought of a big throbbing cock sets my pussy all a-flutter. What I don’t like are sour puckered arseholes who think putting a girl down is the way to drop her panties along with her self-esteem. Now, fuck off before I show you what I really like.”
I just wanted to be left alone to enjoy my pint in peace. The light buzz was a bit too soothing, but I needed something to help me unwind. My day had been bad enough already.
“Shoulda known from that Halloween hair you’d be a fucking freak,” he said, purposefully loud enough for me to hear.
Rage surged through me, heating my blood until the stifling warmth of the crowded pub felt like a cool breeze.
I stood, barstool scraping against the floorboards, and faced the arsehole about to learn some manners.
A firm palm hit my backside. And squeezed .
“At least she’s got a great arse!” Another male chuckled, the sound booming obnoxiously loud in my ears as he tightened his hold on my goodies.
Sour Puckered Arsehole smirked at the man who’d crept up behind me.
The fact I’d let not one, but two men sneak up on me just went to show how far I’d fallen.
I’d had enough of entitled men trying to take from me without consequence. Before I knew it, I swung.
My fist smacked into Sour Puckered Arsehole’s smirking face. His perfectly straight nose gave way with a satisfying crunch and spurt of blood. He stumbled back with a pained yell, crashing into the table behind him. A group of startled fire nymphs snarled at him as several of their pints shattered, spraying glass and ale.
The idiot at my back released my cheek. “What the f—”
I gripped the bar for support, snapping back a vicious kick. Right to the nads.
A pained whine accompanied the sound of a body dropping to the ground, clattering several barstools to the floor with him.
A few seats over, a wrinkled minotaur spluttered out a hacking laugh, quaking the golden bullring in his nose. “Fuck yeah, human! Go, donkey-kick another dude in the balls!”
I grunted, ignoring the cackling old man as I assessed the crowded bar for threats, but Sour Puckered Arsehole had disappeared.
With any obvious aggressors eliminated, I turned my attention to the handsy scumbag I’d downed. Like his friend, he was somewhat handsome, but with a shaved head and apparently more muscles than sense. He gripped his crotch, groaning as he rolled side to side across the worn floorboards.
“Ooh, in yer neep and tatties, eh? That’s gotta hurt.” I patted his cheek sarcastically, watching his eyes dart wildly at the little slaps. “Never touch someone without their permission, Chuckles. Next time, I’ll pull my fucking blade instead. Yours wouldn’t be the first diddly haggis I’ve skewered.”
Straightening, I bared my teeth at him, enjoying the rush of adrenaline that accompanied the quick brawl even as I stuffed down the dark memories that tried to surge up like toxic sludge.
Chuckles began pushing himself up with a groan.
“Stay down!” I snarled.
He paused at whatever he saw on my face before easing back to the floor. At least I’d not lost all my badass bitch vibes.
Leaving the whiny prick on the floor, I stepped back up to the bar, quickly righting my stool. I was more than ready for a fresh drink.
The bartender planted his hands on the worn top and raised a bushy salt-and-pepper brow. “You know you cannae stay after a stunt like that.”
I scowled, my victorious high ceding under the mounting injustice. “You’re really gonna kick me out? Those pricks were fucking asking for it, and you know it.”
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Doona matter what I know.”
A worn sign clung to the faded wallpaper above rows of clear spirits, reading ‘Take it OUTSIDE ’.
My eyes narrowed, the fire in my chest sparking as anger whispered in my ear like the devil, trying to lure me into lashing out. Gritting my teeth against the urge to throw a tantrum, I notched my chin instead. “Fine. But doona think I’ll be coming back again.”
The grizzled man shrugged. “Sorry, lassie. Rules are rules.”
My shoulders hiked up at that saying. That bloody fucking saying.
“Aye, rules are rules. But morals are fucking morals,” I snarled, baring my teeth like some shifter fae gone feral.
I ripped my jacket off the barstool and stalked towards the exit.
Sour Puckered Arsehole reappeared through the crowd, stepping into my path despite the blood leaking from his newly crooked nose. His handsome face twisted in a rage to match my own. Blood smeared his cheek and jaw, making him look like a particularly messy vampire.
I didn’t break stride, barrelling straight into his taller frame. He bounced off me with a high-pitched yelp, but I was too annoyed to truly enjoy the sound.
I shoved the heavy door open, stepping out into the biting cold. The chill robbed me of my well-deserved buzz, leaving me worse off than I’d started the evening—exhausted and bitter. I slipped my leather jacket on with a steady exhale, but it was already too late for my feeble attempt at inebriation.
The moon peered at me, judging my life choices as I looked around the empty street.
Now what?