Safely in the men’s room, I locked myself in a stall and breathed out.

My lord? What prince? Seeing Christian again had momentarily overloaded my brain, causing even the terror brought on by the demons to fizzle out. Now it exploded again. Christian was a painful memory, but Owen was right here in front of me. With his rock-rending, mind-wiping powers and his twisty assistants. Why the fuck was I being polite, drinking my wine like I had nowhere else to be? I had to get out.

I opened the cubicle door and sized up the bathroom’s small, high window. I was about to test my weight on the sink when the door opened.

“Braith.”

Shit. Christian followed me? No, calm down. He just needs to pee like a normal person. I’m the one who’s freaking out here.

“Braith.” He said again, this time he was much closer. I could smell alcohol, he’d come up close behind me.

“Um, hey.” My shoulders felt like they were climbing to my ears as I waited for him to head to the urinal. But he didn’t move.

“I, uh, it’s good to see you.”

My stomach balked like I’d been punched in the gut. The window forgotten, I reached my hand to the mirror to steady myself.

Christian loomed up behind me. In the mirror, his handsome face was flushed, and his eyes refused to meet mine. Instead, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders like I was a doll.

“Where are you staying now?” His hot, beery breath rasped into my neck. A cold, slimy shudder coursed through me.

Then he was wrenched away, his too-warm body replaced with cold air.

Owen was the one standing behind me now, his suit jacket opened wide to reveal the white shirt beneath. His right arm was stretched out toward the cubicle wall. Dangling from his grip, Christian let out a bleat.

I clutched the basin for support, not daring to peek in the mirror. A growl sounded from behind me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Inhuman harmonics vibrated in Owen’s voice. My knees wobbled.

“Auurgh.” Christian gibbered.

Oh, shit. My ex might be a prize pig, but he didn’t deserve actual death. “M-mr Varanor. Owen? Please!”

Christian’s toes danced across the floor as he desperately sought for grip, but Owen’s glowing eyes showed no mercy.

“My lord!” Gregory charged into the bathroom and took hold of Owen’s outstretched arm. “You know the rules!”

Owen’s face twitched with annoyance, but he let go. Christian crumpled onto the tiles, coughing frantically.

“Who the fuck are you?” he gasped between coughs. “I’m calling the police.”

Gregory made a few swift hand movements, and dark shadows hung in the air. A sudden sense of stillness descended. The sounds from the dining room disappeared.

Owen stepped towards Christian, stopping close enough to stand over him. Christian tried to rise, but his heels skidded uselessly across the tiles .

“Who am I?” his voice had returned to its normal timbre, but still his tone turned my blood cold. “You don’t need to know.” He raised his arm and pointed in my direction. “Braith has accepted my proposal and is no longer any of your concern.”

Christian, having finally got his breath back, stared up with a look of pure poison. Then his eyes turned to me, but before I could react Owen spread the fingers of his left hand wide. Christian slumped to the floor like a stunned pig.

“Is he…?” My throat rolled.

“Passed out,” Gregory supplied, “humans seem to love intoxication.”

I risked a look down at the sprawled drunkard. His head was tilted at a weird angle, but I didn’t feel any urge to touch him. Guess he’d wake up with a sore neck as well as a headache. Just what the bastard deserves. I closed my eyes, shocked at the nasty thought.

“We should go.” The furious edge in Owen’s voice had disappeared, replaced with something almost… tentative? He took a step towards me, then stopped. His gaze settled on my shaking hands.

Gregory pushed the door open and whatever quiet bubble had enveloped us popped. The raucous sounds of the dining room washed in.