I'll Be Damned (Anna Wolfe Series) (39 page)

Automatically, I grin. He sounds like a proud parent, which reminds me I need to call them tomorrow. “I want to know if you have any insight about, or if you ever met someone like me?” I ask.

“Honestly, I haven’t, but let me ask around. There must have been someone with your powers at some point in time,” he says, looking discouraged.

“That would be great,” I respond, not appreciating his use of the past tense.

“Anna, your gifts are completely unique, even more so than I ever imagined. I think we're all treading on new ground here,” Roman adds.

That doesn’t make me feel any better. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Don’t worry, we'll do our best to find out more about your lineage,” Valen says.

My lineage? Through all of this, I almost forgot that I’m a descendent of the Great Scholars, whatever that means. I lean my head back, resting it on the cool leather seat to stop it from spinning. I can’t wait to see Kristy and eat dinner in a restaurant. The little things like that help me feel normal again. Ten minutes later, Valen's pulling off the interstate, and hugging the off-ramp like he’s fleeing from the police. I grip the mini handle above me, as my stomach flies into my throat, smothering me in anxiety. I inhale deeply, doing my best to avoid a panic attack. What is it with men and speed? Finally, he straightens the wheel, and drives the car the way it was intended. He peeks into the rearview, raising his eyebrow at me proudly. Well, I’ll be damned… arrogance looks sexy on him too. I look away, forcing the butterflies to stop pirouetting in my stomach. He parks in a spot off Telfair Square, one block from Alligator Soul. Roman helps me peel myself out of the backseat with the ease of his hand. We make our way to the restaurant and my excitement builds with each step. Valen opens the front door, ushering us in. Roman stops abruptly behind the sea of waiting people. Valen must not have been paying attention because he stumbles right into my back.

“Ouch!” I squeal. I turn around with a playful scowl, rubbing the area where he hit.

“Sorry,” Valen says, “I didn’t realize we stopped.”

He places his hand on my lower back, gently massaging it. Heat emanates from his skin, giving me goose bumps. Roman breaks through the crowd, heading straight for the hostess. I decide to stay put, out of sheer selfishness. I close my eyes, anticipating his exploration.

“Ready?” Roman booms, interrupting Valen. His hand retracts as I flip my eyes open to find Roman staring at us, confused. He probably didn’t notice Valen’s hand on me. All the better. If he had, he would have made a spectacle of it.

I clear my throat. “Yes,” I answer, walking towards him.

“You okay?” Roman asks.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I reply casually.

“Did you just fall asleep standing up?”

I chuckle frivolously. “No, I was just resting my eyes. I had a long day."

Roman looks unconvinced, but doesn’t push it. We follow the petite, cute-as-a-button hostess to a table that’s tucked away in the corner, hugged on three sides by long windows. What a great spot. I glance at Roman who smiles in triumph. We sit, adjusting our napkins and browse the menu. I decide on the Smoked Bacon-Wrapped Beef Tenderloin since I’m not a big seafood lover. I place the menu in front of me, noticing the boys are still perusing theirs. A chubby, blond-haired woman is throwing judgmental stares at me from another table, making me self-conscious. I hope I don’t have anything hanging out of my nose. I sniff, but am reassured when nothing wobbles in response. I bet she hates my wardrobe. I look down at my strapless top, struggling to keep my boobs in. I shrug, unconcerned with her critical opinion. It’s not like I dress this way every day. I laugh to myself, raising my eyebrow in her direction and forcing her to drop her gaze. Some people have all the nerve. I remind myself I live in the South and a lot of the older generations, including her, remain stuck in their strict beliefs. Grabbing a roll, I butter it, trying to kill time before Kristy arrives.

“Hey, guys,” a familiar voice floats through the air.

Raising my head, I see Kristy standing in front of our table with a huge grin. “Hey!” I respond excitedly. I jump up from my seat and wrap her into a tight bear hug. "I'm so glad to see you," I say, rocking her gently.

She sighs. "Me too, but you're suffocating me," she giggles, unhooking my arms. I shrug a sorry and sit back down in my seat.

“How are you, Kristy?” Valen inquires.

“It’s great to see you again,” Roman adds.

Kristy smiles warmly in response. “Dave over there,” she says pointing her pen at the bartender, “is making you guys some specialty drinks.”

“You’re not bartending tonight?” I ask, confused.

“No,’ she sighs. “We're slammed and Matt needs all the help he can get on the floor,” Kristy replies, displeased.

“Bummer." I know how much she hates waiting tables. “What time are you getting off?”

“Probably not until eleven. Why? Want to grab a few drinks at Wet Willies?” she asks with a devilish smile.

Before I have a chance to object, Roman butts in. “That sounds great,” he says with a grin the size of Texas.

I reluctantly nod in agreement. I want to see Martello and have a few drinks, but the thought of mixing alcohol and the lack of social interaction scares me. I should just get over it, act normal, and have more than a few drinks, maybe even keep the moon up tonight. We continue our small talk for a few minutes before placing our orders. Dave glides to the table unnoticed, bearing gifts of alcohol. Three tall glasses sit proudly behind six shots. My stomach turns, calculating the amount of liquor on that tray. Dave places our drinks down, flashing me a good luck smile. The liquid in the shot glasses are clear, so that’s a relief. I pick up the large glass, inspecting its contents. A fruity smell floats into my nose, masking any liquor that may be hidden. It’s a bad sign when you can’t smell the alcohol. I take a sip, allowing the delicious, fruity mix to roll around on my taste buds.

“
Salud
,” Valen says, holding his shot mid-air. Reaching for my small glass of clear liquid, I want to sniff it to see what I’m up against, but that's a bad idea. Unwillingly, I raise my glass, and clink Valen's lightly. I pour the shot into my mouth without a thought, cringing as it burns my throat. As soon as the liquid passes, I throw my hand over my mouth, hiding my old man whiskey face. That is the strongest liquor I ever tasted, and the most disgusting too. Whatever it is could wake the dead. I wipe my mouth, unhappy to see another one waiting for me. I'm giving myself a pep talk as my stomach rallies and braces for another one.

“Cheers,” Roman says, holding his small glass up.

“I don’t think I can do another one,” I say, desperately trying to ignore my nausea.

“Come on, Anna, we’re celebrating!” he answers with excitement.

“Celebrating what?” I ask, confused.

“We're celebrating your success at training.”

Valen raises his glass, waiting on me. Peer pressure is such a bitch sometimes. I lift mine and we all clink. I swallow the liquid down as fast as I can, followed by large gulps of my fruity beverage. My stomach screams in protest, warning me what tomorrow will feel like if I keep up this pace.

“What was that?” I ask, wincing.

“I believe it’s called moonshine,” Valen answers with a smirk.

“It tastes horrible.”

“That it does, but it gets straight to the point,” Roman adds, with an amused wink.

His eyes dance wild with delight. He must be enjoying this. I frown at him, even though I know he’s right on the money. My eyeballs are already floating around in my head. Dave magically appears again, bearing more gifts. This time, there are only three tall glasses filled with frothy beer and I throw mine back pretty quickly, not realizing I’m drunk. Dinner flies out of the kitchen too soon. Drinking before dinner always ruins my appetite. I push my food around on my plate, nibbling here and there. Looks like a liquid diet is on the menu, I suppose. I raise my hand to Dave, who is abnormally attentive. I motion for another round of drinks, and within five minutes, he's dropping them off at our table. Valen and Roman watch me with uncertainty. What do they expect? Drinking is like binge eating. I finish my last round quickly, not noticing we closed down the restaurant. Did we even talk this whole time? I can’t seem to get a grip on anything. Kristy comes over, asking us if we’re ready.

“For what?” I question, glancing around the table for answers.

“To visit Martello,” Kristy replies, looking entertained.

“Oh right. Well let’s go,” I say bolting up from my chair, and toppling it over as soon as I stand. I giggle, attempting to bend over and fix it. Strong hands wrap themselves around me, straightening me up. I glance over my shoulder, getting caught in Valen’s bright, cobalt eyes. I turn away, scared to lose myself in them again. Roman clears his throat in discomfort as he reaches over to upright the chair, slamming it straight with extra oomph.

“All right then, let’s go,” he states, walking towards the doors. Kristy catches up to him, making small talk while Valen and I lag behind. I try to listen to their conversation, but our pace is much slower and deliberate than theirs. I’m sure my stumbling has a lot to do with it.

“I can walk, you know,” I announce, trying to throw his arm off my shoulder without any luck. Valen smirks at me and my drunken motor skills. His grips tightens, as he pulls me closer. I respond graciously by tripping over my own foot and barreling into him. On instinct, he sweeps me into his arms like a child.

“You don’t have to carry me,” I say, flushed. I look around, hoping people aren't watching our spectacle.

“Seeing that you tripped more than ten times, I’d say you could use a little help,” he winks.

I fold into his arms without hesitation. If I were sober, I wouldn’t be so quick to give in. One of the perks of alcohol is its ability to disguise bad decisions. Tonight, I welcome them with open arms. Even good girls need a bad night out once in a while. I’ll pay tomorrow, I know, but for right now, I’m going to enjoy every second of it. I wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. I close my eyes, wishing I was in a normal world with him. I hope I can get used to the idea I’ll never have a standard life. No marriage, no white picket fence, and no children… My marriage is to fighting evil. I could never be serious with anyone for fear of their safety and sanity. They'll always be collateral damage or flight risks. Any well-balanced man would take off running if he knew what I am, or what I am wrapped up in. Tears burn in the corner of my eyes at the loss of what I once wanted, and what could never be. The thought of Valen rejecting me enters, but I kick it out. Normally, I’m able to push them away a little easier, but tonight they’ve been drinking too. I hate how my thoughts become blown out of proportion under liquor’s magnifying glass. Valen gently places me back on my feet outside Wet Willies.

"Thanks," I say nervously, brushing a few rogue strands of hair out of my face.

"Anytime," he says with a bright smile.

I look for Roman and Kristy, assuming they're already inside. Valen slides his hand into mine as we make our way through the doorway. Instantly, I see Martello dressed in a bright turquoise jumpsuit. Seriously, how could I miss him? He looks away from the customer he’s currently engaged in conversation to shoot me a smirk before excusing himself.

"Girl, look at you!" Martello announces, pointing his damn diva finger up and down.

I blush, suddenly aware of how many people are actually looking in our direction. "Thanks," I respond in a shy whisper.

"About time you dresses yourself up in something appropriate," he says, kissing my cheek. "Come on, you two needs a drink," he says, grabbing my free hand.

Valen follows without hesitation, dropping us off where Roman and Kristy are sitting. "Here you goes," Martello says. In this whirlwind of greetings, Valen releases my hand. I glance at Kristy and Roman, who look like they're in a deep discussion. Judging by her expression, she doesn't look pleased. Not wanting this night to erupt in drama, I step in their direction.