Devils & Thieves (Devils & Thieves #1)(32)

He grabbed my hand and yanked me out of the tent, shoving past Killian and into the cool night air. Three members of the Devils’ League stood at the tent entrance, watching Darek and the other Deathstalkers march up the path toward their tent in the northern section of the field.

“Jackson, come. The rest of you, stay,” was all Crowe said to his men, and they obeyed.

In the amount of time I’d been inside the beer tent, the festival numbers had swelled. Magic hovered in the air like a dust cloud, sparking and glittering. My head swam and my nose itched. Alcohol buzzed in my veins, dulling the intensity but also making it hard to discern one type of power from another.

Maybe it was the added heat of the night, or the escalating tension, but right now I felt like I was about to explode with too much stimulation. Or maybe it was Crowe’s hand in mine, turning my insides out. Venemon blood had the ability to amplify a kindled person’s own magic, but did skin-to-skin contact have the same effect?

Crowe dragged me to the parking area, away from the gathering. We wove through the parked cars, to the back of the field, where a second driveway was hidden in the trees. Crowe’s car sat parked beneath an oak tree, facing the exit, prepared for a quick escape should he need one.

He dug the keys from his pants pocket and tossed them at Jackson, who caught them. “Drive Jemmie home.”

“What?” I wrenched my hand out of his grip as Jackson unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat. Probably knowing we didn’t want to be overheard, he shut himself inside.

“You’re in no condition to drive, but it’s time for you to go home,” Crowe said as soon as the car door closed. “I’ll make sure Owen knows you’re safe.”

“You’re not the boss of me, Crowe.”

He closed the distance between us with one stride and towered over me. “Go home. You’re drunk. Count yourself lucky that I’m not going to make sure Owen knows that, too.”

“I’m not drunk,” I lied. If Dad knew, he’d probably use it as an excuse to put a containment barrier spell around the house—his version of grounding. “I had two drinks, for God’s sake.” Or was it three…?

“You were drunk when you got here,” he snapped. “You’re fooling no one, Jemmie. You’re a mess, and you can’t protect yourself. You have no business being here at all.”

“What the hell?” I tried to shove him away, but he didn’t budge. “Half the people here are already drunk, Crowe. It’s a freaking party! And you’re not in charge of me.” My eyes were stinging with the humiliation. “I’m not a child, and I can stay if I want.”

“No, you can’t,” said Crowe. “You heard Killian—he’s up to something—”

“You’re the only one who was making threats in there!”

“He murdered my father,” Crowe thundered.

“Or maybe it was an accident,” I shouted back. “And maybe you just want an excuse to burn down the world.”

Crowe staggered back like my shove hit him a minute late. His shoulders heaved and his fists clenched. “Jane predicted something significant would happen at this festival. And Killian—”

“He said his seer made the same call. Why would he say that if he was planning something himself?”

“Because he’s a twisted asshole who likes to play with people’s minds,” said Crowe. “And I needed him to know—”

“Why did you keep me awake when you put almost everyone else to sleep?” I blurted out.

Crowe ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “You need to understand the threat.”

“And that threat is you?”

“Jemmie, go home. Just go home. I have too many people to protect, and you’re a liability. Sober up, figure yourself out, and practice your magic, because you have no place here if you don’t.”

“You don’t understand,” I mumbled. “I can’t just—”

“If you can’t do it, then maybe you should get the hell out of Hawthorne,” he said roughly. “You’re only going to get hurt if you stay.”

I blinked fast, fighting tears I was not going to shed in front of him. “That’s what you want?”

His breath shuddered from his chest, and he looked away. “Yeah.”

“All because I had a few drinks. All because I won’t do magic on command.”

“How about both?”

“Why do you even care?”

As he brought his eyes to mine again, his voice was slightly gentler. “No one drinks like you do unless they’re hiding from something, and I think you’re hiding from your magic.”

I sighed. “That’s not how it is.”

“Bullshit. Is it your dad? You stopped practicing right around the time he left. I remember Alex telling our mom.” His voice had lost its sharp edges, but his words still packed a punch. “There’s no shame in having the same kind of magic he does. There’s no shame in using it.”

“Quit trying to psychoanalyze me. You suck at it.”

“Am I wrong? I’ve known you your whole life, Jemmie Carmichael, and you’ve never been chickenshit about anything except your own power.”

“It’s none of your business.” I bit back a bitter comment about how he had made sure of that when he started kissing other girls right in front of me.