Skyborn (Dragons & Druids #1)(50)

Parking a few blocks from Moon Dust, my hands shook as I tried to rein in my fear about walking into a supernatural bar completely alone and unprepared. Just ask for Jeanine. In and out, I told myself.

I tightened the hold on my studded clutch purse. Last month I was a human living out of my car and searching for my purpose in life, now I was some freak dragon-druid hybrid standing in line to a foreign supernatural bar so that I could get help escaping a sorcerer and a bunch of shifters. It was crazy how quickly your life could change. I was surprised I was doing so well.

I slipped into the line, and was two people from the front of the door when a thought struck me: what if they had a truth witch at the door? Eva’s did … but they were super rare, so maybe not. I was still deciding whether or not to jump out of line when the person in front of me walked into the double doors, letting a short blip of blasting music reach me before they closed again. I was looking a very large man in the eyes, and luckily they weren’t glowing. I was hoping that meant no truth witch.

He seemed to be waiting for me to speak, so I did. “I’m here to see Jeanine,” I told him as confidently as I could.

He glared at me, his already small eyes looking even smaller on his large face.

“And you are?” He looked impatient, and I wasn’t sure if there was some code or something. Dammit. I pulled forty dollars from my clutch and handed it to him.

“I’m a shifter who got into some trouble and needs help out.” There, honest but not completely a lie, in case he was in fact a truth witch.

He grabbed the forty dollars and waved me past as if I was a fly bothering him with my presence. It took a moment for the realization to register through my shock, then I ran inside before he could change his mind. He hadn’t said where to find Jeanine, so I was going to have to figure that out on my own. I was also burning through my cash a lot quicker than I had intended.

As I stepped through the doors, I let my eyes roam over the space. The most prominent thing in the bar, aside from the blaring music, were the cages hanging from the ceiling with dancing half-naked girls in them. Except these girls didn’t look fully aware and semi-bored like the ones at Eva’s. They looked … drugged, in a trance, eyes half-lidded, bodies moving as if they were on autopilot. Off to the left was a secluded lounge area with plush leather couches and black lights to set the mood. To the right was the bathroom and a set of double doors guarded by two large men; straight ahead was a long bar that took up the entire length of the back wall.

I started the herculean task of wading through the packed crowd and under the cages of half-naked dancers to get back to the bar. As I squeezed my way through, the crowd tightened and my body smooshed into the guy in front of me. I was the kind of person who liked my own space, so having my breasts pushed up against some strange dude’s back had my dragon on edge and my inner feminist ready to smash some testicles. Especially after what had happened at Eva’s club.

“Excuse me,” I piped up, because the crowd had pressed together under one of the cages, where the girl had just removed her bikini top. Fabulous. This was a freaking strip club. People were pushing in on me hard now and I was in a full-on panic, my breath coming in gasps, and I felt lightheaded. If I didn’t extract myself from this situation right away, I might faint.

I took my elbow and placed it between the shoulder blades of the guy whose back was assaulting my chest and I pushed. Hard. “MOVE!” I roared and I felt my dragon trying to come to the surface as my panic grew.

Shhh, we’re safe, I told her, and luckily the guy jumped forward two feet and I was given an opening. I shot out of the crowd panting and finally made it to the bar. I stood there a second, just letting myself calm down, not letting the fear overwhelm me. If my time with Logan and the pack had taught my anything, it was that when my dragon felt I was safe, she stayed in her cage—the cage being my human skin. The problem was I didn’t feel safe without Logan, without the pack.

Dammit, why did I always run from my problems? It was a horrible character trait of mine. If I couldn’t see a way out of something, I ran. My college boyfriend broke up with me sophomore year and I totally changed classes, and nearly majors, to avoid him and his new perfect girlfriend. Mom died and I abandoned our lease that I could no longer afford, left our house, sold all of our possessions but for a few sentimental pieces, and I ran.

I was a runner.

Maybe I should at least turn on my phone and see if by miracle of miracles Logan had texted me saying he didn’t care I was part monster and I was still “family”—and that, P.S., Dom didn’t want to behead me.

“Are you the pretty little redhead looking for me?” a powerful, gritty feminine voice called from behind me.

I spun around with wide eyes and my gaze fell on a woman who was tall enough to be a basketball player and thin enough to be a model. The combination was a bit unsettling—not so much her body type but the crooked nose and beady-eyed glare.

“I’m Jeanine.” She nodded, as if I had asked. Her hair was blond and curly, cropped short at the back of the neck. I liked to think I was a good judge of character, and this woman was giving off a major creeper vibe. Great.

“Hey. I’m S-Stacey,” I stuttered, deciding at the last minute to change my name. If I was going to start over, I might as well start now.

She raised a well-manicured eyebrow as if she didn’t buy my name bit and nodded.