The bar is dim, the air thick with smoke and sweat from dancers who started working out their weekly stress early. I slide onto a stool, order a vodka soda.
Emma’s words slam back inside my head.
Maybe you should stay close to him.
I get the logic. I really do but I can't seem to make peace with the side of me that wants to get as far away from Keith as possible.
My heart just can't take another betrayal.
“Rough day?” the bartender asks.
I look up from the napkin I’ve been picking at. The bartender is sporting a laminated name tag.
Rook.
I nod. “You have no idea, Rook. As a matter of fact, you can probably start getting another round ready.”
As a shifter, human alcohol doesn't affect us like it does them. I'll need six or seven drinks before I even start to feel a buzz.
“Damn. It
