A Crown of Blood

Chapter 10

It started with a scream from a bottle service girl. The first bottle shattered next to her head. The second bottle shattered in her hands. Nobody was hurt. Except for maybe my ego.

Oh, did I do that?

I looked at a bottle sparkler, and upon contact, the sparkler exploded.

Oops.

The second scream came from the woman straddling Damon's waist. But instead of horror, as I expected, her excited screams bubbled into giggles, and then open-mouth sighs when Damon squeezed her body closer to him and peppered kisses on her neck.

The knife wasn't as it seemed. It was a buckle on her garter belt shaped like a knife.

"Fucking hell," I murmured. Another bottle on the wall behind me fell apart. Except this time, the glass dissolved. That's new.

Matthew ground into my lower back. "Yeah?"

Disgust wracked my body. Twisting out of his arms, I gazed up at the man, sorry for cutting his night short, and sorry for myself for letting someone so rhythmically challenged gyrate into me the way he did, doctor or not. "This was fun," I said, grimacing, and smiled. "Bye!"

"Wait—"

Stepping away, I melted into the crowd with familiar ease, the heat of Damon's gaze imprinted on my skin, and elbowed my way to the bar. Stupid, tacky, garter belt. I should've blown her up instead of the Grey Goose. Moments later, Rosalia found me, her moonstone hair matted with sweat and clinging to her flushed cheeks, and she threw herself forward, westling me into a sidelong hug.

"Haaalinnaaa," she sang. "There you are!"

I held my whiskey up in salute. "I'm here!"

"You were dancing with that doctor!"

"Unfortunately."

"God—he was lanky, wasn't he?" A drunken giggle. "And so—"

"Yes, yes, I know," I groaned. Malaise thickened in my stomach. That last shot sure warped reality. "You don't need to remind me."

"That's okay! We've all done it!" Clutching me tight, she said, "As long as you're having fun! Are you having fun, Halina?"

"Yes." An honest answer despite the broken glass behind the bar. Taking a long sip, I clinked our glasses together. "Are you having fun, Rosalia?"

Rosalia screwed her eyes shut. "No," and then quickly, "I want to go up onto the balconies. Will you come with me? Please? The next round is on me!"

I wanted to tell her that every round of drinks tonight had been courtesy of Club Wolfsbane. But she was so drunk, and I was so drunk, and in that moment, I genuinely craved her friendship so desperately that my chest ached, so, I said nothing.

Friendship for the sake of friendship. No ulterior motives. No conditions of companionship.

I nearly forgot what that felt like.

I used to have many friends in the coven we belonged to. Despite what the humans said, witches loved to have and care for children, not eat them. It was the closest thing to having cousins to grow up with.

The first time I Changed, the high priestess, Serayha, found me cowering behind a dumpster in Hoboken, naked, blood streaked on my face. She promised to keep my secret and keep me safe. Mom hoped the powerful witch could strip the wolf from me. That nearly killed me. The second time I Changed—well—things turned ugly. After that, I wasn't allowed to play with the other children. Or anyone, for that matter. Just sit in my room. Hide when I had to. Listen to Mom's every word without question. It was after Mom and I left the coven that solitude became the norm, and it had been that way ever since.