The Element: Thea's Thereafter

Chapter 7 - Knife Play

Trent

The feline stench drips from every surface of the bar. It's a musk so strong that it makes even my favorite beer taste like piss.

While The Cat Lounge is public domain, it's still Devil Claws territory. There's a mix of different breeds of shifters here tonight. A few rogues sit at the bar and by their scent, I'd say two are avian shifters and one is a bear. A group of vampires are playing pool and there's a scattering of witches and fae throughout the room. Humans are the only species not present because of the enchantment that keeps all non-supes away. The magic used to keep them away is also in place to prevent magic from being used in the building, including the power to shift.

Micah leans closer to speak above the noise swirling in the dirty cloud of smoke above our heads. "Where are they?"

"They'll be here." Zeke takes a pull from his drink. "The DCs are always at The Cat Lounge on Saturday night."

The three of us observe the bar patrons from our table in the back corner. There are dozens of conversations around us being told in loud voices, all of them competing with the rock music that dominates the atmosphere.

"Hey, Micah, would you mind going and getting me another?" Zeke asks. I glance down with confusion at his full beer.

Micah silently questions Zeke's request with a furrowed brow. "Uh ... sure."

After he leaves the table, Zeke begins to pick at the label on the beer bottle. "So, Trent we all are worried about ... what I mean to say is that the pack ... you just seem —"

Realization slams into me like a freight truck. "For fucks sake," I moan. "You didn't need to send Micah away. If you want to ask me something, just ask."

Zeke sits back and crosses his arms. His eyes bore into me like termites on fresh lumber. "You know, you've always been an asshole. Since you joined our pack at fifteen years old. You had this massive chip on your shoulder. That's been your M.O. And we all accepted it because of what you went through. But you never directed that anger towards the pack."

"I'm so tired of everyone trying to psychoanalyze me. First it was Mason, then Charlie, and now you."

Zeke leans forward, his voice lowering to a menacing level. "Yeah, well, I'll just ask you this once: Do you wanna leave this pack?"

My stomach drops. "What? Why would you ask that?"

Zeke shrugs his shoulders. "We both know that you're a true alpha, Trent. If you were back home —"

"This is my home," I interrupt.

He shakes his head. "Maybe the fact that I'm becoming alpha is causing your wolf to lash out. I mean, you have a title and power. You have a freaking kingdom —"

Not liking where this conversation is headed, I stop him. "No. I don't wanna leave. My wolf is fine. I'm fine."

"Bullshit," he challenges.

"Dammit, Zeke." My palm slams onto the table. "This has nothing to do with you!"

Micah sets the beer on the table. "Hey, Dickheads," he greets, "save the heart-to-heart for later. They're here." I follow Micah's gaze to the entrance of the bar where Mel is flirting with the red headed waitress from Charlie's Diner. She's traded her work uniform in for a scrap of fabric that does little to hold her tits in place or cover her ass.

"What in the hell is Angela doing here?" Zeke asks.

"I told Charlie not to trust her," Micah states.