"Somebody should punch that jackass in the face for bothering her," I muttered.
Phillip chuckled. "You know what? I think that jealousy suits you."
I turned my glare to him. "Maybe I should punch you in the face too."
He kept right on laughing.
Apparently, every other man in the club saw the giant strike out with Gin and decided to try his luck, because it was like the proverbial floodgates opened. One after another, the preening peacocks - emphasis on cocks - separated themselves from the flock, walked over, and started hitting on her. Soon I couldn't even see Gin through the cluster of the men.
Still, I kept shooting glances in that direction. I couldn't help myself, just like I hadn't been able to stop staring at Gin at the Briartop museum when I'd first noticed her in the rotunda. Gin probably thought that I'd come over to her because I'd mistaken her for someone else, but I could never do that. I'd know her anywhere. She'd looked so beautiful that night, her blood-red gown rippling out around her, her dark brown hair loose and slightly wavy, the skin of her arms and shoulders looking as smooth and flawless as marble.
But Gin had never looked so wonderful as at the moment she'd burst into the museum's vault area and I'd realized she was still alive, ending the utter agony of thinking she had been murdered by Clementine and her men. Gin had been dirty, sweaty, and covered with giants' blood, but I hadn't cared. I'd grabbed her and kissed her, and I'd wanted to keep on kissing her forever -
The music stopped again for a moment, and the crowd quieted down enough for me to hear a soft, low laugh, Gin's laugh. Something else that I would have known anywhere. She actually found one of the peacocks funny. I couldn't see who it was, but she laughed again. What was he? A comedian?
Her laugh drifted over to me a third time, and I grabbed my glass and threw back the gin. But the slow, steady burn of the liquor in the pit of my stomach couldn't ease the sharp, stinging ache in my chest. Because that should have been me at the bar with her. I should have been the one making her laugh tonight. Not some random stranger.
I would have been that man, if not for my own stupidity. And that's what hurt and angered me more than anything else.
Gin laughed yet again, the sound punching into my gut. And I knew that I had to get out of here before I did something extremely stupid, like marching over to the bar and punching out every single guy who was ogling her.
"I need some air," I growled.
Phillip gave me an amused look. "Sure you do."
I grimaced, slid out of the booth, and walked away.
Chapter 3
It was after ten now, and Northern Aggression was kicking into high gear. The dance floor was so packed that I couldn't get to the other side without using blunt force. With the mood I was in, I wouldn't have minded shoving a few dancers out of my way. Actually, I wouldn't have minded being in the middle of a good, old-fashioned, knock-down, drag-out bar brawl, but there was no reason to take out my anger and frustration on folks who were just here to have a good time. So instead of going outside, I ended up retreating to the only other somewhat quiet haven in the club: the men's room.
Like everything else at Northern Aggression, the men's room was done in lavish style. The floor in the outer room was made of the same springy bamboo as the rest of the club, and several small red-velvet couches crouched in the wide space. Roslyn's heart-and-arrow rune was embroidered in gold thread on each of the throw pillows propped up on the thick cushions.
I thought the little couches were an odd touch, since I'd never seen a man actually sit on any of them. But, apparently, they were great spots to sleep off hangovers. A dwarf was snoring up a storm on the couch in the corner right now. Since he was a few inches shy of five feet, he actually fit on the piece of furniture, although one of his legs was dangling off the side. It wouldn't be too long before gravity took over and he slid off the slick velvet and ended up facedown on the floor, snoring into the wood.
I pushed through the inner door and into the actual bathroom. Two vampires were whispering to each other in front of the paper-towel dispenser. They stopped and gave me suspicious looks as I entered. I'd probably interrupted some sort of hush-hush deal for drugs, blood, sex, or all three. Since it looked like they wanted their privacy, I moved past them and entered the farthest stall. A few seconds later, the whispers resumed, and the door creaked open and then shut as the vamps left. Apparently, they'd concluded their business and gone on their way. Bully for them. Somebody here should have a good time tonight.
I stood in the stall and stared at the door in front of me. Maybe it was the way the light glinted off the metal, but suddenly, I was thinking back to another place, another time. The lawn of an elegant estate and the layer of glittering elemental Ice that covered everything, including the broken, frozen fountains planted in the grass . . .
Salina lying on the Ice, stretching out her hand, begging me to help her, to save her. A crazy light flashing in her eyes, one that I'd somehow never seen before. My sharp, sick, horrified realization that the crazy light had been there all along and that everyone else had seen it but me.
Gin staring solemnly at me, knowing what had to be done now and that I couldn't do it. Phillip and Gin's foster brother, Finn, clamping their hands on my arms, holding me back while I made a halfhearted effort to break loose, and all of us knowing that I didn't really want to be free.
Gin leaning down and cutting Salina's throat. And then the sick, sick relief that I wasn't the one to actually kill her. But everything inside me still turning, twisting, and tearing apart at what had happened, at all that my friends, my family, had suffered because of Salina - because of my blind faith in her.
Turning away from Gin so she wouldn't see my horror, my guilt, my complete and utter shame, at everything that had happened . . .
I shook my head, and the door was simply a door, not some weird window into the not-too-distant past. But once again, anger surged through me, the way it had so many times over the past several weeks. Why did every single thing have to remind me of that night? Of how I'd failed the people I loved? Eva had suffered so much because of Salina. So had Phillip, Gin, and Cooper Stills, the dwarven Air elemental who'd been my blacksmith mentor. And yet at the end, when it had to be done, when it had really mattered, I hadn't been able to kill Salina. I'd seen her lying on the Ice, and I'd thought of the girl she'd once been, the one who'd lost her father so horribly, the one I'd loved so much - who had really been a monster the whole time.
I knew everything that Salina had done - abused Eva, lied about Phillip, attacked Cooper, tried to drown Gin - but I still hadn't wanted to be the cause of her death. I'd wanted her just to . . . disappear, as if that would magically take all of the horror and heartache along with her.