This next chapter is dedicated to NiaHafirah, and Eventing_gurl. They both sent me lovely messages about my writing yesterday.
I'm so grateful for the encouragement and support. Every vote, every message people send keeps me writing xx
I rest my head on the cool bench top of the bar.
Everything hurts.
I would rather have gone against ten Reeces or shifted into my wolf for the first time again.
When Luka placed me on the training field, he barely threw himself out of harm's way before I exploded into a giant dragon.
I had literally exploded out of my skin, violently and painfully. I wondered if I would even have a human form to come back to.
After staggering around like a drunk at closing time, trying to get the unfamiliar cumbersome body to do my bidding, I had gotten agitated.
This led to me flapping wings I did not know I had. Which in turn led to panic when I was lifted off the ground and a painful belly flop when I froze with fear.
Embarrassed, I had hidden my face in the dirt, only to get my horn (yes you heard me, a freaking horn) stuck in the ground. I had roared in frustration and spat lightning, splitting an extensive line of hundred-year-old oak trees in half. I always thought dragons breathed fire but I guess I was mistaken.
But it was clear I was not cut out to be a dragon.
Luka and Lysario stood quietly, observing with interest. My other mates were more empathetic and supportive of the situation.
Their hyena-like laughter really boosted my confidence. (Note the sarcasm) They stopped laughing and scattered when the lightning shot out in their direction though.
Thankfully, I was able to will myself back to human form before I could do further damage to myself, them, or our training grounds and my vines immediately rolled out and covered me. I flipped my mates the bird, before staggering off to the bar.
I made it to a bar stool, downed a few shots, and ordered a bourbon on the rocks. Nothing wrong with self-medicating when you're feeling like ass.
By the fifth or sixth glass, I've lain my aching head on the bar, and with the aid of a bendy straw and a generous bartender, who keeps me topped up without asking, I don't have to raise my head anymore.
I'm feeling nicely buzzed, my body relaxing, and the aches on the back burner but still feel almost feverish. A cold, damp towel is gently placed on my forehead and a face lays on the bar top looking at me. The sensation of falling was immediate.
Luka.
"Are you ok?" he asks gently. I push the straw out of my mouth with my tongue.
"Still hurts a bit," I admit and realize my voice has a slur going on.
"Are you done drinking?"
I nod. I'm not sure how much I've had to drink now, but I'm guessing it's time to cut myself off.
Luka motions to the bartender and a glass of water takes my bourbon's place with a new straw, that Lukas guides to my lips.
YOU ARE READING
Twist Of Fate
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