Normally, I’d argue, but too much uneasiness is creeping through me, so I easily nod.
He frowns at that, probably due to the fact that he’s never seen me be so agreeable. But he doesn’t remark as he steers us into the room with his arm resting stiffly around me.
I cast a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure Jaxon is following us. He is, his eyes drifting upward to the cages where the creatures are going at it. The sounds of their moaning and bodies slapping together mix with the music. I try to disregard it—I really do—but it’s just not possible.
The further we get into the bar, the worse it gets. While some creatures are content to keep doing what they’re doing, some pause to glance at us. Well, it seems more like they’re glancing at me. It’s like they can tell I don’t belong here, that I barely know what I am. Or maybe they just know that I’m the last cursed fire reaper to exist and I’m trying to get the crown to become the queen. The latter makes me extremely anxious, but I do my best to shove that feeling aside and focus on acting normal. Whatever normal is in this place.
Blaise keeps a hold of me as we continue our way through the creatures, the air becoming increasingly stifling. Just when I don’t think I can take it anymore, the mob begins to thin out as we reach a table and chairs area tucked in the far back corner. This section of the bar is way more mellow, the creatures sitting at the tables appearing tame and more focused on conversations and drinks than going at it or feeding.
“I fucking hate this place.” Jaxon is the one to speak first.
When I turn around, he has his arms wrapped around himself and his shoulders are tense. When he meets my gaze, the emotion in his eyes appears to mirror my own.
Uneasiness.
Discomfort.
Fear.
Why the hell would Jaxon feel this way? Shouldn’t he be comfortable in these types of places? After all, he’s centuries old.
I blink at the thought. Yeah, every time I think about it, I still can’t get over that fact.
Jaxon has been acting odd for a while, so maybe his anxiety is still dragging from earlier. Still, it troubles me enough that I slip out from underneath Blaise’s arm so I can go to him. Later on, I’ll more than likely remember this move and cringe at how obvious it was that I’m worried about Jaxon.
“Hey,” I say as I start toward him.
He blinks, his flinching gaze landing on me. “What’s up?”
The casual greeting makes this even more bizarre.
“I just wanted to see if you’re okay.” I shift my weight and cross my arms. “You seem a little tense.”
Tense is an understatement. He’s wound up so tight that he has his hands tucked underneath his armpits.
He nods unevenly. “I’m fine.”
I study him, the way his gaze constantly shifts away from me, like he doesn’t want to meet my gaze.
“I don’t think you are. In fact, I can tell you’re not.” Without much forethought, I reach out, grab one of his hands, and tangle our fingers together. “We can be uncomfortable together, if you want. This place is weirding me out, too.” I do my best not to look at the cages again, but my gaze involuntarily strays that way a handful of times.
Jaxon stares at me for a blink of a moment before he actively takes hold of this hand holding thing going on between us.
“All right, let’s be weirded out together.” He offers me a small smile but doesn’t elaborate on what’s bothering him.
And I make no effort to press. Not because I don’t care. I just know that I wouldn’t want anyone asking me why I’m so uneasy right now.
When I turn back around, Blaise is watching me with curiosity.
“What?” I ask as I return back to his side with Jaxon in tow.
“What? What?” He plays dumb.
I respond with an eye roll, and he smiles, snags a hold of my free hand, and pulls Jaxon and me with him as he makes his way to a booth nestled back in the shadows of the room where Alex and Rhyland are already seated. The seats are made of velvet, and the table appears to be some sort of ebony material. A woven mess of tangled thorns and ivory vines dangle above in a makeshift light that kisses an eerie deep blue glow.
“This place is wickedly weird looking,” I mutter as I slide into the booth beside Rhyland.
Alex is sitting on the other side, and Blaise takes a seat beside him while Jaxon sits down beside me with our hands still clasped.
“But in a cool way,” I add, because it’s true. Despite all the weird stuff going on, the design of the place is awesome.
“I personally like the cages above,” Alex comments as he rests his arms on top of the table. When I narrow my eyes at him, he winks at me. Then he does this little thing where he starts slowly sucking on his lip ring while staring at me, making my normally cool skin feel like it’s turning into embers again, so much so that I glance down and double-check that I’m not somehow withering.
Thankfully, I’m not. Doubly thankfully, Alex directs his attention to Rhyland.
“So, I know by law we have to put in a request to speak to the Keeper of Crowns—and this is where we do it—but I’m hoping you have an idea of who we’re supposed to make the request with.”
Rhyland nods, propping his elbows onto the table. “I do.” He removes a thick, black metal ring from off his thumb and distractedly spins it around.
“You’re avoidance reeks, brother,” Alex calls him out. “Who is it?”
Rhyland remains focused on the ring, the music screaming in the background. “Elise.”
Alex’s expression falls as he slumps back in the seat. “Fuuuck,” he drags out the word. “Why the hell didn’t you mention this before we left?”
“I would’ve … had you asked, but everyone was too distracted by other things and didn’t think to.” Rhyland’s gaze fleetingly skates to me.
“Hey, I didn’t do it on purpose,” I argue, even though I’m not even certain what’s going on.
Clearly, they’re not a fan of this Elise, but I don’t have a damn clue why.
His expression softens as he slips his ring back on. “I know.” He reaches out and sweeps a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. “I was just making a point.”
I raise my brows. “Which is?”
“That we need to focus,” Blaise answers as he leans back in the booth with his arms folded across his lean chest. “We get it, brother. But what we don’t get is how in the fucking pits of hell do you expect us to talk to that venomous demon.”
I’m not positive if he means demon in the literal sense or not, but everyone is rippling with so much tension that I don’t bother asking.
“She’s the gateway receptionist to the Withered Souls Realm now,” he explains. “At least from what every creature told me that I spoke to about this.”
“You told creatures what we were doing?” Alex questions with a low edge in his tone.
“Why would you do that?” Blaise gapes at him. “Seriously, you’re usually more responsible than this.”
“No, I just asked around,” Rhyland clarifies, drumming his fingers on top of the table. “While I was looking for Indigo. I wasn’t being irresponsible.”