We were on two different pages.
I pressed both bottles to my lips and tipped my head back. The last drops of demon brew hit my tongue.
Fake fae man number three begged, “We’ll make it so good for you, our Queen. Let all three of us serve you. Please.” He fell to his knees beside the first man, who knelt on the ground in front of me.
“Um.” I gnawed on my lower lip.
My head spun, and I chuckled at the sensation.
Everything was floaty in the best possible way; my thoughts were effervescent bubbles that popped delightfully.
It was euphoric.
“Let us please you,” the man begged at my feet.
If only he had messy dark hair, dimples, olive skin, and hooded dark eyes that twinkled.
Then he would be perfect.
As I thought about John, the butterflies dancing in my stomach turned to lead. Guilt was acid in my stomach even as my heart beat harder at the thought of him.
I rolled my pipe between my lips and inhaled enchanted smoke.
Sun god, everything was so confusing.
My head spun.
A hand touched my leg. “You’re a perfect, flawless queen. There is not one thing wrong with you. You are the ideal female.”
Who was going to tell him?
He was spot on.
I half laughed, half giggled, and snorted at my joke.
Fingers trailed more aggressively up my calves and across my thighs.
I weighed the pros and cons of the situation.
Cons: Sexual relations hurt because of my enchanted scars. I still needed to talk to John and apologize. And now that I was looking at them, the three fake fae dudes were kind of ugly.
I exhaled a cloud of enchanted residue.
Pros: I was drunk.
“Please, mistress, let us serve you.” Man number one leaned forward and kissed the exposed skin of my stomach.
I jumped back with surprise and a jolt of pleasure mixed with a teensy, tiny jolt of pain.
My back barely hurt.
I’d found the answer to my problem.
I just needed to get drunk to the point of complete incapacitation to enjoy sexual relations.
Joy burst in my chest.
Finally, a realistic solution.
I smiled down at the three men literally kneeling before me. Sure, one of them was downright hideous, and they were all way too skinny for my liking. Yes, the man standing in front of me had an enormous nose and freakishly wide forehead.
I shrugged. “Sure.”
Who was I to judge? I had two black eyes, dozens of stitches littering my skin, and a rat’s nest of curls.
Also, apparently, I had no standards when it came to men. Some people fought their demons. I fucked mine. Or was I the demon?
It was confusing.
“What should we do?” My question turned into a gasp as the two men kneeling before me leaned forward and started kissing my abs.
I smiled. My pain neurons were muted enough that I found their kisses almost enjoyable.
Enjoyable was probably too strong of a word. It didn’t hurt.
A win.
The ugly dude standing in front of me shuffled to the side so he could press his lips against mine.
I grinned under his lips.
Yep, I was kissing three men at the same time.
Iconic and inspiring.
A tongue pressed through my lips, and it was kind of slimy.
I wrinkled my nose.
Lips pressed harder against my impressive abs, and hands trailed up and down my sweatpants. Someone’s fingers danced across my waist, then pushed under the fabric so two hands were gripping my ass.
Midkiss he groaned into my mouth. “You’re not wearing underwear.” His breath was kind of spicy, and I didn’t like the taste.
I winced as he grabbed my butt like he was trying to bruise it.
Hands crept higher up my inner thighs.
A lot was happening.
Bodies danced inches away from us, but we were mostly hidden by the shadows of the wall.
I debated calling a stop to this little ménage à quatre, but the bubbles were still dancing in my head.
Everything spun.
Hazy. Delightful. Fun.
Nothing mattered anyway. Who cared if three random, ugly men touched all over my body?
Not me.
It was kind of pleasant.
Yes, my quality of life was so shitty that “pleasant” was an immense improvement.
If only Mother could see me now, she’d be furious.
I kissed back harder.
Just to spite her.
Hands dragged my ass forward so my front was pressed against a crotch. Six hands grabbed my butt. I shimmied my hips and smiled.
Whores be like.
Shadows danced, and my skin tingled like I was drifting through a dream.
The tongue in my mouth was starting to feel more skilled.
Fingers feathered across the juncture of my thighs, and I let out a little breathy moan. It felt nice.
I peeked open my eyes and stared at the person I truly wanted.
He scowled.
I jumped as I realized he wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
In real life a man stood directly behind the commoner who was kissing me, glowering inches away from where our lips were locked.
“You do this with everyone?” Luka asked roughly.
I pulled my lips free from the kiss and beamed up at him. “Yep, I’m a huge slut.”
It was called manifesting.
The commoner grabbed my face and dragged me back for more openmouthed kisses while the men at my feet became more aggressive with their touches.
The air around Luka shimmered black.
His dark eyes transformed into voids.
He reached a hand forward and ripped the man off my lips, then threw him away from me like he weighed nothing.
My jaw dropped.
A bubble popped in my head, and I laughed.
Then frowned.
“Who do you think you are?” I asked Luka incredulously. “You won’t answer a single question, then you think you can just do that?” I waved my hand at the ugly man sprawled on the floor, struggling to stand up.
I grimaced and gestured at him. “Just pop your legs up.” I tried to give him some help.
The man floundered.
Did he have no core strength?
It was hard to watch.
Luka made a noise of disbelief, and I whirled on him.
“You!” I poked my finger against his firm chest. “Why would you reveal your identity after years of silence? Explain yourself.” I crossed my arms.
He arched a dark brow at my question.
A male singer screeched.
Luka said calmly, “John has informed me that the circumstances have changed. Our secrecy is no longer needed because we won’t be keeping it.”
I blinked.
“What?” I was too drunk for this conversation.
What were we talking about?
Oh, right. I stuck my finger in his face and said, “You aren’t my friend, father, or captain. Sun god, you’re barely a member of this team. Yet you think you can interfere with my personal life?”
He took a step closer.
His breath smelled like spice and demon brew as he said, “I never said you couldn’t call me Daddy.”
My jaw dropped.
Something told me I wasn’t the only drunk one.
Music pulsed. Bodies danced around us.
The two men kneeling at my feet kept trailing their hands across my butt, and Luka glanced down at them, then back at my face.
His expression hardened as he said, “Corvus, your captain’s services are needed to handle Aran.”
I scoffed.
He hadn’t yelled, so there was no way Malum would hear him over the loud music.