Page 14 of Irreverent (The Marked Saga #7)

I ran for hours. Ran like the ground was being split open and torn out from under me. Ran like I could somehow outrun the inevitable fallout that was coming if I just kept pounding my feet against the pavement. Like I had any hope in hell of ending up anywhere other than exactly where I’d started. Because that was the thing about running away from your problems. No matter where you went or how fast you moved, they were still right there with you, waiting to take you asunder the moment you stopped running.

So, I didn’t.

Not until much later that day, long after the sun had set, and the rain began to fall.

And even then, as I stood on the curb outside the Blackburn Estate, my chest burning from overexertion and my feet screaming for reprieve, all I wanted to do was continue running. To get as far away from the people inside that house as I could, and even further from the horrifying truth about who my father was.

It was clear in that moment that Gabriel had been dead wrong. I didn’t need time to process what Jaqueline had revealed to me. What I needed was alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

And there was only one place I knew to get it.

***

The rain pelted against my windshield as I pulled into the All Saints parking lot and searched for an empty parking spot as close to the door as I could manage. Unfortunately, my hope of a great escape down the bottom of a shot glass had been short-lived upon spotting Trace’s blue Mustang parked at the back of the building.

Not that I minded personally. In fact, a part of me wanted nothing more than to run into that building and jump into his safe, protective arms. To fall into our soul mate bond and let its steady, comforting vibration make everything better again. To hear him promise me that everything was going to be okay. And that I wasn’t an abomination. But that wasn’t going to happen. Because Trace had made it clear that he wanted time and space.

Stupid, useless time and space.

What the hell did he want with all that time and space anyway? It sure as hell didn’t do me any good. All it had done was make me angrier with Jaqueline for keeping the truth from me. For waiting nearly eighteen years to tell me that my entire life had been a lie. And my dad…the man that loved and raised me since birth. I’d counted hundreds of chances and missed opportunities for him to tell me the truth—to prepare me for what was coming. But he didn’t. Not once. Not one word. And it made me so angry with him. So fucking angry. And I really didn’t want to be angry with him. Anyone but him.

Oh, god…what if that was what Trace was doing? What if he was in there, stewing over everything I told him, getting more and more furious with me as time went on? What if he was slowly realizing that his life was better off without me in it? That the lies I had told were unforgivable and I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore?

I slouched back in my seat and watched the windshield wipers whip back and forth across the glass as though they too were shaking their head at the mess I had made of my life.

Suddenly, the entire ‘time and space’ thing felt very wrong, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why I’d agreed to give it to him in the first place. If I had any real guts, I’d march in there and demand he talk to me. Because that’s what grown people do. They work out their problems. They talk out their differences. They don’t run away from each other every time the going gets tough. But how…how could I even blame him? Hadn’t I spent the entirety of the day running from my own problems? Hadn’t I lied to him the same way Jaqueline had lied to me, and for the same exact reason. To protect him.

God, I was no better than her.

Just wait until he finds out who your real daddy is, taunted a cruel voice inside my head. He’s going to run so far and fast from you that they’re going to need a new word for it.

Tap, tap, tap.

I jumped at the sound of knuckles rapping against my driver’s side window and instantly knew it was Trace even though I couldn’t see his face. I had been too deep in thought to notice the soulmate bond creeping up on me, but I could tell just by the way he was standing. By the way his shirt clung to his body in all the right places.

I’d know that body anywhere. With or without clothes on.

Exhaling slowly, I rolled down the window and stared forward in silence, unable to look him in the eyes. A moment ago, I had a whole speech prepared for him, but now that he was right there outside my door, I couldn’t remember a single word I’d wanted to say to him.

He leaned down, placing both his forearms against the roof of my car as the scent of his woodsy cologne drifted into my car, engulfing me. “What are you doing out here?”

he asked, his baritone voice vibrating against my skin.

“Nothing. I mean, I just wanted to, you know…like I really needed something… but then I…”

I scratched the side of my neck and shrugged, sounding like a blundering idiot. Oh, how some things never change.

“Bad day?”

he guessed, his knowing eyes flitting over my features.

I nodded, working hard to bite down on the sob that suddenly wanted to bubble up to the surface. I was petrified to my core of what that sob would drag up with it if I ever let it see the light of day.

He continued staring at me, and I felt myself shrinking in my seat from the intensity of his gaze. I could only imagine what he was thinking. He was probably working up the nerve to tell me to get the hell off his property.

“You want to come in for a drink?”

he asked instead, his head craned to the side as he continued to appraise me.

My mouth opened to answer yes just as it occurred to me that he was probably only being polite. He’d made it clear that he needed some time to think things over and me showing up here, loitering outside his bar like some stage five stalker, was probably only making him feel guilty about the whole thing. Or worse, pity.

God, I really hoped it wasn’t the latter. “That’s okay. I’m actually pretty tired,”

I lied, giving him an easy out. “I should probably get home.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “So, you drove all this way just to park outside my bar…because you’re tired?”

That sounded about as stupid as I probably looked. “No.”

“Then why did you come here?”

he asked, his voice dropping low as his brilliant blue eyes dusted over me.

I shrugged. “Because this is where the alcohol is.”

A long pause. “There’s about ten liquor stores from your house to here. Why didn’t you just stop at one of those?”

“That’s a good question.”

And apparently, I didn’t have an answer for him.

I could feel his eyes burrowing into me as though trying to peer into my broken soul. “I didn’t come here to bother you or make you talk to me if that’s what you’re thinking. I didn’t know you’d be—”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking,”

he said simply, and then nothing more.

The silence was deafening and suddenly, I felt like a total pariah. “I should go,”

I said as I grabbed the seatbelt and pulled it across my chest to buckle myself back in.

His hand landed on my forearm, halting me. “Wait.”

My gaze dropped to his hand as the sensation of our soulmate bond settled in under my skin. Swallowing, I looked back up and met his eyes. “Wait for what, Trace?”

His jaw muscle feathered. “Have a drink with me first. On the house.”

“You want to have a drink with me?”

I verified as though my ears couldn’t be trusted with this kind of pertinent information.

“That’s what I said.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as he opened my driver’s side door without even bothering to wait for an answer.

Peering up at him from under my lashes, I thought it over for a quick second as my heart danced wildly in my chest. I mean, I had given him an out. If he was just trying to be polite with his invitation, he could have easily dropped the whole thing when I told him I was tired. Maybe he’d had enough time and space.

Maybe he’d missed me as much as I had missed him.

“Okay,”

I said as I turned off my engine and then climbed out of my car, feeling the rain pepper my shoulders as he slammed the door shut behind me. I looked up and met his eyes, desperate to get lost inside their depths. In everything they may have been promising me. “But if it’s on the house, I’m going to need at least two,” I warned.

His mouth pulled all the way up into a heart-stopping, thigh-clenching, beautifully dimpled grin.

And just like that, my horrible day was already starting to look better.

***

Perched on the bar stool at the main bar, I admired the view as I watched Trace fix us a couple of drinks from behind the counter. His long dark hair was damp from the rain and slicked all the way back, as though he’d just walked out of a shower, and his long sleeve, fitted black work shirt was pushed up to his elbows, highlighting his thick, corded forearms.

There was something so breathtaking about the way he didn’t even have to try to look good. He was a walking Adonis no matter the setting or the clothing and carried himself with the kind of understated, effortless confidence I could only dream of having.

“Cheers,”

he said as he handed me one of the shot glasses and then held up his own to mine.

I clinked his glass and then tossed the dark amber liquid back, wincing as it burned a trail of fire down my throat.

“So…”

His gaze lingered on me for a quick second. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked as he pushed another shot glass in front of me.

I shook my head, feeling benighted within the deep chasm of blackness inside me. “Not really,”

I said as I clinked his glass again and tossed back the second one, wincing again as it dropped through me like molten lava.

“Does it have anything to do with why you weren’t at school today?”

he asked as he gathered our glasses and then wiped down the counter between us.

“No. I mean…sort of.”

He wet his bottom lip, setting off both dimples in tandem as his eyes fell heavy on me. “Are you purposely being vague because you don’t want to talk about it, or because you don’t want to talk about with me?”

“I’m not purposely being vague.”

“So, you don’t want to talk about it with me then,”

he surmised when I didn’t answer his question properly. “Are you worried I can’t handle it or something?”

“No.”

I swallowed the knot at the back of my throat. “It’s nothing like that.” But it sort of was. Because I was pretty sure that even I wasn’t handling it at the moment, let alone him.

“Then talk to me,”

he pushed, lowering his baritone voice until I could almost feel it pulsing under my skin. “Tell me what happened.”

My lips parted to speak, to confess the earth-shattering sins of my mother and unpack every horrible detail she had fired into my heart. But…I couldn’t do it. There hadn’t been nearly enough time or alcohol to broach the subject.

“This isn’t really the time or the place,”

I decided and then took the bottle of Jack from him before lining up our shot glasses again. What I needed right now was more alcohol and he was doing a piss poor job of keeping up with it. Though in his defense, he seemed to be much more concerned with how I was doing rather than how much alcohol I was getting. “Besides, I thought we came here to drink.”

He rubbed his hand across his jaw, watching me intently as I refilled our shot glasses.

“Bottom’s up,”

I said as I pushed his in front of him and then slammed mine back like a seasoned pro.

Trace, on the other hand, made zero moves to touch his. “Let’s go someplace else. Just me and you,”

he said lowly, leaning forward onto his forearms and bringing his face and all its beauty within a few inches of mine. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. I’ll even bring the Jack.”

His offer had me resisting the urge to push forward and inhale that spicy, woodsy scent that made my toes curl and bad thoughts disappear. As tempted as I was to escape with him, I knew that was a recipe for disaster. “I thought you needed some space from me,”

I reminded him instead.

“I had space.”

Our soul mate bond sparked at his words as though trying to make a point of it.

My brows lifted. “And?”

I asked, wondering what conclusion he had arrived at.

“And you need me more right now.”

My heart jack-hammered inside my chest just as the front entrance door slammed open, drawing our attention to two men dressed in all black clothing, walking in like they owned the place. They appeared to be looking for someone, their eyes scanning each of the patrons without interest before landing in our direction and staying there. They clearly weren’t from around here. The question was who were they and why were they heading right for us?

“Excuse me, little lady,”

said the shorter one with the jet-black hair as he reached in front of me and grabbed a few peanuts from the bowl on the counter. “Nice joint you got here,” he said, though this time he was talking to Trace.

How did he know Trace owned—

I smelled his smokey demon scent before I had a chance to finish asking myself the question.

Trace did too, evidenced by the way he straightened to his full height, his teeth gnashing against each other as he pumped his jaw muscle. “Get out of my bar.”

“That’s no way to treat a paying customer, is it?”

he asked and then glanced back at the taller one. He towered over him by at least a full foot and had his hair buzzed down to the skin. He appeared to be the lookout guy, not saying much as he stood his ground a couple of feet away from Shorty.

“You have ten seconds to get out of here before I unload my shotgun into your head,”

said Trace, his voice as calm and even as a quiet, Spring night. It was deathly out of sync with the murderous look in his eyes. “I won’t say it again.” His hand dropped below his counter, and I knew he was wrapping his fingers around said shotgun.

“Woah. Hey now, Chief,”

he said, putting his hands up defensively. “No need to shoot the messenger. We’re just here to deliver a message from Mistress Nikki.”

I snort-laughed in his face, not even bothering to hide it.

Shorty eyed me with annoyance and then continued speaking to Trace. “Mistress has requested a private meeting with you. We’re only here to escort you to the location.”

“Oh, is that right?”

I asked mockingly, inserting myself right in the middle of their conversation. “So, are you two like, Mistress Bitchface’s gopher boys or something? Do you also go on tampon runs for her or are your errands limited to messages only?” I asked, feigning interest.

He looked over at me and I resisted the urge to flinch away from his death glare. If looks could kill, I’d be pulverized. “Watch your mouth, little girl, or I’ll make sure you never use it again.”

Trace jolted forward, but I quickly held out my hand to stop him. Clearly, this lap boy demon had no idea who he was talking to or all of the things I could do to his internal organs without even breaking a sweat.

“You really shouldn’t have said that,”

mused Trace, both his dimples blinking like a warning sign as the smallest hint of a smile touched his face.

I crossed my legs and turned on my stool to face Shorty. “So, how would you accomplish such a thing?”

I asked, genuinely interested in his answer. “You know, the making-sure-I-never-use-my-mouth again thing. Is this a physical endeavor or do you have some kind of demon magic to help with the task?”

“What?”

asked Shorty, his face scrunched up in a medley of confusion and irritation.

“Hit the pavement, kid. You got a death wish or something?”

asked the taller, bald one from a couple of feet away.

“A death wish? Hmm.”

I tapped my chin as I pretended to think about it. “I mean, I don’t know. Do you?”

And now they were both looking at me like I was some deranged teenager who’d probably just escaped from the nut house. The whole thing was really doing wonders for my horrible mood.

“Why don’t we talk about this outside?”

asked Trace, his knowing eyes sliding from me to Shorty.

Shorty smirked at him, revealing his cracked front tooth. “Well, now, Chief. We were hoping we could do this the nice way.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

I asked as Trace snickered under his breath.

“You know I’m getting really sick of your mouth, little bitch. Maybe I ought to teach you a lesson after all.”

“Maybe you should,”

I goaded, excited at the prospect of unleashing the volcano of rage my mother had planted inside of me on the two of them. Of turning their faces into the same unrecognizable mess I was feeling on the inside.

Shorty glanced back at the taller one, as though unsure what to make of me. His left eye twitched, almost like he could sense the danger on the horizon. But he had no fucking idea.

“You’re not scared of a girl, are you?”

asked Trace, knowing they’d take the bait. They clearly didn’t have two brain cells to rub together between the two of them. That much had already been established.

“Me? Scared of a girl?”

Shorty laughed as he straightened to his full height, which really wasn’t saying much considering he looked like he still shopped in the children’s section. “Alright, Chief. What do you say we move this party outside and see if we can’t work this out more privately?”

Man, he really was stupider than a doorknob.

I hopped off my chair and smiled sweetly. “Lead the way, big guy.”