Little Saint Bride [Death and the Maiden, #1]

Chapter Twenty Three: Heated

The first pint of mead tastes like straw mixed with soured honey. The next, I can no longer taste the sourness. By the third, I can't taste a thing.
Not a bloody, damn, Hellish thing.

I chuckle as I set the full mug of ale down with a heavy slosh, and the man beside me-- a man that was more rag and bone than flesh-- snorts awake, as if the noise of a mug being slammed in front of him was enough to trigger his reflexes. He gives an incoherent mumble, before disappearing back into the folds of rotten clothing.

The world sways a little as I lean forward. The sting of my lip, where the fight had broken out and Britta had socked me plain in the face, is no longer hurting. My pride, and my anger, are.

Damn it. Damn it. What would I do? What could I do?

Perhaps if I hadn't attacked my senior...perhaps if I had been diplomatic...

No! Pissed me roars. It's the fucking system, that's what. A system meant to keep the rabble at the bottom. As if they would ever let you meet Chronus with your shitty score.

Shitty personality, shitty score.

I take another swig. Oblivion. That's what I want.

Until a hand pulls me back.

'Ness, what are you--?'

The hand pulls on my shoulder, spinning me around on the creaky barstool. My head spins in the opposite direction, and all in all it gives me a woozy, ugly feeling. When my eyes focus, I see the most handsome man I'd known, standing before me in this hovel.

This dark, dingy pub in a back alley of Elysium's back alley, filled with wasters and layabouts and thieves and those that weren't functioning citizens of good society.

And he's come for me.

I want to touch his hair, curling from a damp that must be perspiration in this clammy, cramped pub. And he smells so clean, like a fresh winter breeze come storming through windows. And-- his face! Aaah. It's the kind of face that people believe they will see after death, when they reach heaven. Soft but masculine, shaved but rugged, and those ocean eyes boring into mine.

I open my mouth in gratitude, but only a burp comes out.

The man before me snorts, laughing. He takes the mug that's still in my hand, sagging over the table. With my hand free, it flies to reach him. Pulling on his brown blazer (where had he gotten that from? Last time I saw him, he was practically naked. Such a shame.) I stand by holding onto his chest.

It feels like I'm standing on a cliff edge. A cliff edge that's bloody shaking.

'Have you been drinking?' Hadrian asks, peering into my eyes. His face is so close, it's beautiful. I wonder if it's the drink making me go gozzy, or the attraction I had to him.

'You've just noticed?' My voice is flat, snarky. I see him raise an eyebrow, my sass hitting him hard in the face.

Hadrian's arms steady me. 'I've just noticed you're drunk, hell, Ness, I had something important to tell you!'

'What?' I say automatically, attempting to focus but swaying like a pendulum, my gaze fixed on Hadrian's nose. Such a sweet, strong nose. Sturdy. The kind a sculptor would like to make a bust of.

'How did you get like this?'

I giggle. 'I hit a coworker. And then I got another Anger point on my card...and so I needed to escape.'

Hadrian's nostrils flare in anger.

'Well, you weren't much good when you were off letting Blonde Girl snog you with her eyes! What was I supposed to do? I thought you'd left me!'