Myles headed towards the club doors, Mira a step behind him. The alleyway past the carpark was wide, lit with burning lanterns that made a cloud of mist above their heads. There was no neon sign leading to the door. The pavement underneath them was uneven. The graffiti was a mix of new and old. No one stood at the door, but he knew the camera was currently watching them.
Mira glanced around, stepping closer to him. "Are we supposed to be here?"
"I promise it's better inside."
He and Ciaran had stumbled upon the place by fluke in the early morning of a pub crawl, back when Moonlit Magic first opened. Since then, it had become their preference for a night out. The location was unassuming, keeping away the crowds other places drew.
"I'm glad you warned me about heels," said Mira, under her breath. "I hope I'm not overdressed."
"Mira, it doesn't matter. You look amazing."
She waved off the compliment, suddenly interesting in symbols on the wall to his left.
He let the words hang between them, staring down at her. She took his breath away without even trying. It was the first time he'd seen her wearing make-up. Her lips were stained a deep red, her eyes impossibly bright behind dark lashes. Strands of hair were curled loosely around her face, the rest pulled back into a loose knot on top of her head. She wore black boots, ripped jeans, a cropped long-sleeved top that bared her shoulders—and the freckles she had there. In the chill of the night air, she shrugged a beige faux-leather jacket.
The bracelet on her wrist was her only accessory.
"You look good, too," mumbled Mira.
About to push the door open, he stopped. Then he grinned. Myles hadn't gone to near as much effort as she had, aside from shaving. A forgotten pair of white-washed jeans he found buried in his closet and an off-white button down. "Thanks. Ready?"
Mira pulled her bag higher on her should. "Sure. What's the worst that could happen?"
Nothing, not on his watch, he thought, twisting the heavy, brass handle. When he stepped through the door, he immediately noticed the pair of sentry tucked away into a booth in the corner. Both had a drink he knew was non-alcoholic. Neither would drink on the job, not at the risk of their Alpha pair's anger. After all, they'd arrived in the same car in the event that that Myles got too drunk to drive back to the pack lands and one of them had to get behind the wheel. Myles nodded in their direction, which they both returned, as he shut the door behind Mira, closing off the music to the outside once more.
"Oh. This is nicer that I thought it would be," whispered Mira, a musing to herself more than anything.
The interior was a mix of old-school tiles, exposed brick, graffiti and rustic wooden tables. The bar itself too up very little of the space, tucked away to the left. The lighting was rudimentary, not the epileptic strobes of other places they'd drunk at. Still early in the night, the crowd was thin, but he knew it would pick up in a couple of hours.
"Where are—"
"Mira!"
It took him a second to find Vara, in a backless, short red dress. She was down the rear of the club, in an area past the dance floor that was filled with tables. It was the usual spot he and Ciaran migrated to as opposed to the left side tables closer to the bar, given it was the quietest area.
Vara crossed the floor, pushing past those in her way. She pulled Mira into a quick hug when she reached them. "It's so good to see you, honey. I'm glad you came tonight. Third wheeling with their bromance is not my idea of fun. I'll take you to where we're sitting."
Mira shuffled her feet. Fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist. Bit her lip.
Myles wished he could make this all less awkward, but he couldn't be the one to break the ice.
"Mira, what's wrong?"
"Why are you being like this? Aren't you angry?"
"At you?"
Mira nodded.
Vara's sigh was drawn out. "Mira, no. I have no reason to be."
More shuffling. Then, with a forced smile, "Where's the table?"
"I'll go grab our drinks," cut in Myles. "What would you like?"
"You don't..." Mira sighed. "I have no way of paying you back."
He didn't plan on taking any money from her. Not that she'd agree with that. "Right now you don't but you will, later on. Re-pay it then."
"I... okay."
He'd been expecting more of an argument. If Vara wasn't standing with them, he was sure there would have been one.
"Can I grab a sprite, please?"
Non-alcoholic, which wasn't a surprise. He hoped, some time in the night, she'd feel comfortable enough to change her mind about that. "I won't be long," he said, eyeing the scarcely populated bar.
"Have fun with that. Mira, come on. There's so much I need to catch you up on." Vara's gaze cut to his, narrowed. "Away from prying ears."
Myles raised an eyebrow. "Careful. I might take offence."
"Oh?" Hand on her hip, Vara smirked. "It's almost as if you were meant to."
She and Ciaran were perfect for each other, they really were.
"Let's go, Mira." Vara's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Before animal-boy here turns and eats us."
Mira didn't respond to that. He suspected she didn't know how. She let herself be dragged away by Vara and Myles watched them go. He wasn't the only one. He had to tamp down misplaced territorial instincts, triggered by those around them. Needing to shift his focus, he headed towards the bar, weaving past the booths and tables.
The bartender headed his way, turning from where she re-stocked the shelves. She was a shifter. Her bleached hair was streaked with pink. Her grin was all teeth. "What can I get for you, handsome?"
Myles leaned on the bar. "Bourbon, on the rocks and a sprite."
Her voice dropped to a purr as she leant towards him, flashing cleavage. A deliberate move he pretended not to notice. "Laced, darling?"
"Yes," he said, grabbing his wallet and pulling out a twenty, hoping she'd get the hint.
Undeterred, she put her palm on his forearm. "If you get bored with your date, I get off at midnight."
Myles took a step back.
"The change," he prompted, voice hard, when she didn't move to take the money. "And drinks."
The flirting wasn't what bothered him; it was part of her job. No, he took issue with the calculated glint in her eye. He knew that look all too well. She recognised him, and had been watching him. She wanted the bragging rights that came with sharing his bed. She wanted to use him as a pawn to gain power within the pack, nothing more.
Years ago, the blatant offer would have amused him.
Now it just pissed him off, especially when she did with Mira metres away, who he knew was watching—but unable to hear anything over the music—when her scent turned bitter.
The bartender took the money, her eyes pinched in a glare she directed to his left—towards Mira. "I could do you better."
A change in tactics then. One he disliked even more. He cleared his throat, moving to block her view of Mira. The flirtatious act dropped in a second, her gaze dropping. Submission. He leant back against the bar as she moved off to grab his order. At their table, Vara had shifted seats to sit next to Mira. Their heads were bent close as they whispered to each other, hands in each others. Reassurance he wasn't there to offer; once again picking up his slack.
Getting her to come out with him like that had been progress. And now it felt like it had all been shattered. Yet again. This time by an outsider. He wouldn't be surprised in slightest if she asked to leave.
"Here's your drinks, sir."
Myles turned back, forcing a polite smile on his face.
"I'm sorry," said the bartender contritely, all bravado gone, wiping her hands on a towel. "I didn't mean any disrespect. To you or your date."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. She was young. Still learning. He couldn't hold a grudge when he'd done far worse around her age. "Appreciated."
He took both drinks.
What he left behind was the change as a tip. She worked a low paying, unappreciated job. It was the least he could do.
At their table, tucked against the wall, Vara and Mira were side by side, bent over a phone. Ciaran was to Vara's left, sipping his whiskey as he glanced between them. He turned his head when Myles was close, grinning.
"It's about time you showed up. I figured you'd bailed on us."
Myles set down his drink, clasping the palm that was offered and squeezing. Then, he made his way around the table. Placing Mira's drink in front of her, he nuzzled the side of her head briefly; a familial greeting she'd shown she didn't mind across the last few days. Now, it was an apology.
"Mira, I—"
"You don't owe me an explanation," she said, talking over him. There was a waver in her voice she couldn't cover. "I get it. Don't worry."
He wasn't convinced, but he wasn't about to push the issue. The fact that she hadn't asked to go was relief enough. Taking a seat next to Ciaran, Myles sent off a quick text to him mother with an update. Not because she was worried about him; no, Mira was the focus of that. He was playing the middleman between them, so his mother could hover and still keep the fact under wraps. As far as he was concerned, Mira could talk care of herself just as well as he could, not that he'd let it get to that point—but he hadn't been about to argue, not when he'd never win.
Vara picked up the conversation she'd been having with Mira without missing a beat. "—an hour later, they were still getting nowhere. I watched. The whole time. They never clued in that I was the reason why the fire started. Or that I used magic to do it. Idiots, all of them. In the end, I won. They overturned the decision. And I was never even suspected."
Myles knew the story. A ban on magic had been put in place, within her school, after students had used their magic for, quote, nefarious reasons. No one disclosed the specific reasons. It didn't change the fact that it was an insult of a decision, akin to banning his kind from shifting; robbing them of a part of themselves. Sparking a controlled, un-extinguishable fire was tame compared to the riot that would ensue if his father had ever mandated such a thing.
Ciaran raised his drink. "It was a council run—and staffed—school, Vara. Of course they didn't notice. They were as hopeless then as they are now."
"True, but—"
"The Fae have a council too?"
Mira was met with silence.
Ciaran and Vara both cut a glance his way, expressions pinched. He'd filled in Ciaran on what had happened after the meeting, who would have told Vara. Neither of them wanted to tread on a topic that would trigger Mira.
Myles lifted a shoulder in a non-perceptible shrug. Mira wouldn't have asked if she didn't want to know.
"We do," Vara said carefully. "Similar to yours. Only more complicated. Our District Ministers are equal to your Alpha, I guess, only there's half a dozen compared to one. Bylaws flip like a coin. Outdated—"
A cough as Ciaran muttered, "Understatement."
"—practices are still upheld. Some, from eons ago that have never been changed. The prophecy, for instance, foretelling a legendary Queen—a deity, really—who will rise. Her existence is preached like religion."
Ciaran tipped his drink back, finishing in one swallow. "Legend. Key word in all of that. That's all it is. Humans have Santa Claus and we have an all-knowing omniscient Queen, who one day will come. Not today or tomorrow, but someday. My parents used it to scare my siblings and l into behaving growing up and the Ministers use it now to keep us all in line."
Mira tilted her hand, eyebrows furrowed. "Why doesn't someone just pretend they're her?"
"Oh, trust me, they do. All the time." Vara laughed under her breath. "To swindle a deal. To improve a grade. To negotiate a pay raise. It never works, in case you were wondering. No one is foolish enough to believe it because our kind have been using the ruse for centuries."
"I'm not drunk enough for this conversation." Ciaran glared at his empty glass. "Round two, anyone? Well, three for me, but who's counting."
"My shout, this time," said Vara, eyeing her red wine. "Mira, do you want something alcoholic?"
"I'm fine. Thank you for asking."
"Are you sure?"
Mira cleared her throat. She tugged at the ends of her hair. "I'm a lightweight. I shouldn't push it."
"You're safe amongst friends who won't judge you, honey. A very unconventional and powerful group of friends at that—if that's your worry. Mira, I just told you I would have burned down my school to make a point if I had to. Ciaran has burned down a building."
"Two. And they had it coming." A lip quirk from Ciaran. "You're not drinking with a sociopath, I promise. Not me, at least. I can't vouch for the asshole next to me."
Myles rolled his eyes but didn't comment.
Vara tapped her chin with her finger, like she was deep in though. As if Ciaran hadn't spoken, she continued, "Myles, well, he can growl, right? A last resort if you're desperate."
Two against one, was it? If he hadn't seen the smile Mira attempted to hide, the fact might have bothered him.
"When you put it like that, I guess..." Mira let out a breath. "A gin and tonic, please."
Vara looked like she could have shouted in victory, although she only clapped her hands together. "Coming right up. Myles, do you want another?"
Myles nodded, relaying his order to Vara, who headed over to the bar. Myles didn't miss the nervous glances the bartender sent towards their table. No doubt Vara had issued a warning of her own in defence of Mira. Unnecessary, but appreciated.
The silence at the table was companionable.
Mira was the one to break it. "Are we being watched?"
Myles didn't glance around to check before he answered. The club, and the Truce Lands in general, was friendly to both of their kinds—but that didn't mean the two interacted. "Probably. Is it bothering you?"
If it was, he could deal with the shifters. They wouldn't even look their way without fearing the consequences. Ciaran and Vara would happily handle the fae for him.
"No, it's fine. I'm just being paranoid."
Myles reached across the table. Mira didn't protest when he gripped her palm in his. "If the answer changes, let me know. There's other places we can go."
"There's a park nearby. Deserted at night," said Ciaran. "Myles broke his arm there on a night out jumping off a swing."
He remember that night like it was yesterday. They'd both been out with friends, catching up once everyone else called it quits. "You pushed me off."
"Did I? I don't remember that part."
Of course he didn't. "We can find somewhere else, Mira. Just say the world."
*
They'd made the fourth (for them, at least) trip for drinks, when Vara jumped off of her stool in a burst. She tugged Mira's hand. "Come dance with me. I'm sick of talking."
Mira was gripping the table like it was keeping her upright. It probably was with the way Vara was trying to pull her off.
With wide eyes, Vara pouted. "Please, Mira. No one else will dance. You're my last hope."
"Fine. Only because you're desperate." In one gulp, Mira downed the rest of her drink. She glanced over to him as she set it on the table, her grip rigid. "I'll leave my jacket here."
"We'll be here," said Myles. "Don't worry."
Mira let out a long sigh. Then she was gone, Vara dragging her off. Ciaran swivelled on his stool, following their departure.
"Pervert," muttered Myles into his glass.
A scoff. "They'll be hot together. As if I'm not going to watch."
Myles held out. Then, a couple of minutes later, he turned on his own stool, resting his elbows on the table behind him. Finding them in amongst the dance floor took seconds.
Ciaran was right on the money, wasn't he?
Vara had Mira's back to her front, her arms wrapped around Mira's waist and her chin on her shoulder. A mix of black, red exposed skin, they were a sight, drawing the attention of the others around them. Vara and Mira were creating a spectacle, sensually swaying to the music in time with each other like their bodies were connected.
Myles found himself absorbed in the sight of Mira. She was stunning, but that wasn't the reason. It was the breathless way she laughed, the way her eyes were lit up and the way her scent was like an infectious spark of joy. For the first time since he'd met her, she was truly unguarded. Truly happy.
Turning in Vara's arms, Mira leant in, grinning widely as she whispered in Vara's ear. Whatever she said made Vara throw her head back in a laugh.
"Don't get any ideas," said Myles. He knew that both Vara and Ciaran had no issues adding the occasion one-off partner if the attraction was mutual. "I don't share."
Ciaran only laughed. "Your mate is safe, My. Cross my heart. Vara would be lining up to kill me if I even tried, right after you had your turn."
He wouldn't go that far, maybe break a bone or two which Ciaran could heal himself of. Vara, well, he wouldn't put it past her. "Sometimes you both make perfect sense together. Then, like now, I don't get it."
"We keep things interesting. What else can I say?"
In the silence they lapsed into, Myles finished of his drink and Ciaran pulled out his phone. He started recording. "I'll send it to you, My," said Ciaran. "No need to thank me."
Rolling his eyes, he replied, "I never asked."
"Right." Ciaran smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Guess I'll keep it to myself then."
Myles cracked. The exact thing Ciaran was waiting for. "Send it to me, asshole."
"Thought so."
Myles flipped him off.
Ciaran laughed.
It was easy to lose track of time watching the dance floor. Eventually, Vara wandered off to the bathroom and Mira made her way back to the table. Her skin was flushed, her pulse racing and her grin was all teeth.
"I can't believe I just did that," she said, loosening the elastic in her hair until the length fell over her shoulders.
Vara came back them, dropped onto her stool and pulling Mira up next to her. "I need another drink to cool off." She pouted. "Too bad no one's offering."
Despite only being halfway through his own whiskey, Ciaran near jumped off his stool. He stumbled, once, before he regained his balance. "I'll get another round for the table. Requests?"
Myles raised his mostly empty glass.
"Another gin and tonic, Mira?"
"Please."
Ciaran shrugged off his jacket, dropping it next to Mira. Offhandedly, Myles noted that his sleeve had been updated as he headed away from their secluded corner with a wave.
"So agreeable. It's sexy." Vara followed Ciaran as he went to the bar, her expression hooded. "He's far more fun in bed like this."
Mira choked on her glass of sprite.
The corner of Vara's mouth lifted, her eyes never strayed. "Too much information? Sorry."
She wasn't the least bit apologetic. Just as Ciaran hadn't been before about what he'd said. He'd pre-warned Mira about them both. If, at any point, it made her uncomfortable, all she had to do was tell them and they'd both tone it down. Sober or inebriated, they'd listen.
With Vara's attention side-tracked, Myles caught Mira's attention. "How are you feeling?"
She raised a bare shoulder in a shrug, pinching her fingers together. "A tiny bit tipsy. A good tipsy, though." A pause. "Are you having a good time?"
He finished his the last of his bourbon, before he did something stupid and kissed her for being so selfless. "Yeah, Mira, I am."
Mira stared down at her hands caught in Vara's grip. "Thank you for inviting me."
Her gratitude was an unwelcome itch under his skin.
He went to answer, but was cut off when Ciaran returned with all four glasses in hand. He set them down on the table, turning back a second later. Mira looked to him in question and he shrugged. A couple of minutes later, Ciaran was back and Myles had to smile. He had four tequila shots on a small tray with lime wedges and a basin of salt. It was a tradition for the two of them, after a bottle of tequila marked the night of their first blackout. In the case of tonight, two had become four.
"The shot is optional, Mira," said Myles, as Mira glanced between them all in confusion. "No pressure."
"I'll have yours, if you don't want it," jumped in Vara without pause, her fingers tapping on top of Mira's palm. "I have to cut myself off soon, so I need to enjoy the alcohol while I can."
In lieu of answering, Mira reached for one of the shots.
Vara let go of Mira's hand to grab her own, pulling her hair off of her shoulder. "Can I make a toast?"
Ciaran said, "Go ahead, darling."
Myles passed around the salt.
"To a long and messy night," began Vara. "Bottoms up."
Ciaran was the first one to reach for a lime wedge.
Mira was the last. Dropping it back to the tray, she coughed. "I forgot how much that burns. And how bad it tastes."
Vara pulled her into a hug, patting her back as though it would help. Myles knew first hand it wouldn't do a thing—but once the buzz kicked, Mira would forget all about it. Given she was already tipsy, it would be quickly.
He wasn't wrong.
As the next hour went by Mira became progressively affected by the alcohol in her system. Vara dragged her out to dance a second time. By the time they were back at the table, Mira was slurring, giggling and wobbling on her feet. When Vara and Ciaran made the decision to call it a night, it was well into the morning.
"I told myself I'd stay sober, but..." Mira giggled, tripping into the table him as went to get off her stool. She blinked bloodshot eyes. "I can't feel my face. I think I'm drunk."
She was adorable. "You're a lot more than drunk, sweetheart."
"I don't know if I can walk to the car. My legs feel like jelly."
When was the last time she'd been able to let her guard down like this, if ever?
"Myles can carry you," said Vara, finishing the last of her drink. Dryly, she added, "unless the muscles are for show."
"I've seen him work out, Vara," Mira whispered conspiratorially, staring at his arms with wide eyes. "They're real. He could probably bench-press me."
He could, but Mira hardly weighed a thing. Before she actually listed off her stool, he stepped closer to Mira, sliding an arm around her waist. She was the one to fit herself into his side, although it was more like let her body weight fall, her fingers hooking on the waistband of his jeans as she stayed sitting.
"Will you get him home safe?" he asked Vara, as Ciaran approached them once more, a stagger in his step.
"Unless he falls asleep on me and ruins my plans to keep him tied to my bed." Vara hummed, winking. "Otherwise, I might just leave him here to nap. You'll find your own way home in the when the sun comes up, won't you, darling?"
Like there was no audience, Ciaran backed Vara into the wall, his mouth dropping onto hers in a wet, heated kiss as his hands went to her thighs, lifting her up abasing the wall. Vara's hands lifted to tangle into Ciaran's hair, offering no protest.
Myles rolled his eyes at the display, glancing down at Mira. She rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed as murmured to herself. Unaware of the two of them, which was for the best.
Vara pushed Ciaran away with a hand on his shoulder a few minutes later. "And that's our cue to get out of here," she Vara, her voice breathy. "I hope you had fun, Mira."
Mira blinked back into awareness slowly. Then she giggled. "I liked dancing. With you. That was fun."
"I'm glad." Side-stepping Ciaran, Vara grabbed Mira's hand. "Text me later, alright?"
"I will," said Mira. "Be safe."
After that they made a hasty exit, hands all over each other as they did. Myles lifted a hand to wave them off, before he refocused his attention on Mira.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
"Hm. It's boring now."
He laughed as he slid his hand under her knees, picking her up. Then he fought a shiver, as her breath ghosted right over his skin.
She made a nose in the back of her throat. "I was joking," she said. "I can walk, Myles."
His mouth quirked. The words didn't come from a place of uneasiness. Still, stubborn as she might be, he wasn't about to let her hurt herself to make a point. "Don't fight me on this, sweetheart. You'll lose."
She grumbled. Then she settled in his arms. "My bag. I need..."
He'd already grabbed it from the table, after double checking everything was still in there. He had her jacket as well, tucked over his arm. "What do you need?"
"I... forgot."
Myles started walking, shaking his head fondly. The club had cleared out, so he had a largely clear path to the door. Those who did get in his way were quick to get out of it when he glared in their direction.
Mira yawned, her jaw cracking. "I'm so tired. Why?"
The answer to that was simple. It was three in the morning, and she'd clearly drank more alcohol than she had in a long while. The high of it all was waring off—and quickly. He was surprised she hadn't thrown up yet.
Then again, she'd hadn't woken up with a hangover yet. He knew exactly how ragged she'd be feeling when that happened.
"I don't want to fall asleep."
"That's fine, sweetheart. Stay awake as long as you want," he said, highly doubting she'd be able to keep her eyes open by the time they reached pack lands. "I've got you, either way. I'll keep you safe."
"I know," she mumbled. "Because we're fated and you have to."
There it was: the reminder that, while this may have been a great night, it wasn't their reality. Nothing was this easy, as much as he wished it could be. "No, sweetheart. Because you're you and I want to."
The sentries met him at the door. He reached into his back pocket for his keys, dropping them into Fabian's open palm. "Straight home, sir?"
The sir wasn't necessary, considering Fabian was his elder by several decades. Myles shrugged it off given the circumstances. "Yeah. Thanks."
Mira lifted her head, squinting. "Are you driving?"
Fabian grinned. "Looks like. I swear on my daughter's life I'll get you home without incident, ma'am."
"That sounds weird," said Mira, behind another yawn, her head dropping once more. "Don't do that. I don't like it."
Before anyone could linger on that, Myles pushed the door open with his shoulder, ducking through as the sentries followed. In the night air, Mira shivered and he pulled her closer, hurrying across the carpark.
"I've got you," he repeated into her hair.
She merely hummed.