Salvage: Book 3 of the Magic Mutations Series

22: Lukas

April, 2019

Static consumed the air. And while I knew no one was watching me, I couldn't help but feel like all eyes were on me as I sat alone at the table.

Light chatter filled the restaurant. The clinking of forks and knives on plates sounded even louder than it should. And my knee bounced under the table as I glanced around again for the sight of her.

I hadn't been able to rest since midday. I was trying to convince myself that it was because I knew what I was going to do tonight... what I was going to ask Emma. But lingering at the back of my mind was...

It's her birthday tomorrow... I wonder what she will be doing. I wonder who she will spend the day with. Is she okay?

I shook the endless questions and took another look around the restaurant. Lips pressed together, a knot built in my stomach.

Emma's not normally late.

Pulling out my phone, I checked the time.

And she's never half an hour late. She'd at least text. Did something happen? Did Erica speak to her first?

Almost as if trying to make things worse for me, the waiter returned to my table and asked, "Would you like to order something while you wait for your guest, sir?"

It was hard to keep the gruffness out of my voice. "I'm fine, thanks. She will be here shortly."

"I can't even interest you in a glass of wine? Champagne?"

Taking a steady breath before I spoke, I folded my fingers together before glancing up at the waiter. "This water is fine for me right now, thanks. Though we will order plenty when she arrives. She's caught up."

"Very well, sir," he said, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face this time before he flashed me a grin. Then he turned on his heel and approached another table.

But as I was left alone to my thoughts again—taking a moment to unlock my phone and check my messages, which were still void of new ones in the past couple of hours—I couldn't help but long for a taste of beer right now. The storm of emotions raging in me from the unease of an absent Emma to the annoyance at myself for wondering about her again desired a drink to drown the despair. But ever since I met Emma and she pulled me out of that hole, I had avoided alcohol altogether, swearing I'd improve myself this time through healthier measures.

Even though I knew that, as the days went on and mentions of her continued to come back into my life, I was keeping more and more of my feelings to myself again instead of voicing them, bottling everything up once more until I would break.

Though before I could torment myself further at how many steps backward I had taken in my self-improvement journey, the chair across from me scraping against the floor shook me out of my mind.

Head whipping up, I met the chocolate eyes of my guest.

Relief consumed me at the sight of her, gaze taking in her dress—not fitting to the one she left this morning in—and nose relishing the fresh scent of her shampoo and conditioner on her curled hair.

As I opened my mouth to ask where she had been, she was already gushing, beating me to it. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I was on my way here. Like, I even got off at the tube station around the corner about half an hour before we were supposed to meet. But then I could hear some human struggling so I figured stopping a Made was more important. But then, of course, blood got all over my clothes, and I couldn't just rock up here looking like I'd walked out of a horror—"

As she continued to waffle, concern clouding her face, ease washed through me to know she wasn't late because she had run off... or perhaps because I had mumbled something during my nightmare last night.