Dragon’s Fire- Fake it till we fall

The claw

"The Claw" is packed. No wonder. It is Friday night. I let my eyes glide over the sterile-looking interior. Everything seems to have been remodeled recently. A lot of cement and what I think are beige and light blues, at least in broad daylight. Gone is the wood you see on the exterior.

The bar is dimly lit, and the dance floor, which has been bustling since we got in, is almost completely dark. I can only see the silhouettes of men and women shaking to the music that blares out of the overhead speakers. High-top tables are stuffed together a few steps up on a platform behind a banister, and that is where my gaze wanders to next. Nael, Elodie, Katie, and Ryan are standing around one of them, drinks in hand. I guess they are making small talk, and I see Elodie and Katie giggle. Jordan is off to the side, flirting with a blond with enormous boobs, who is currently pushing her chest out toward him seductively. Goddess, what kind of hell hole have they dragged me to.

I shake my head and pull down my black crop top. Hopping on one of the bar stools (quite a struggle, damn you, short legs), I wave at the bartender. I need more shots. Since we arrived about an hour ago, I have been self-medicating with tequila, and I still don't feel like I have reached the level of excitement they are displaying. I'm not even close to indifference yet, so I guess I'll just have to drink more.

This is the last place I want to be. Heated, sweaty bodies, rubbing against each other, loud laughter. All this makes my skin crawl. Moreover, the intermittent onset of stroboscopic lights every now and then doesn't enhance the club's appeal to me.

I like loud music. I need it to drown out the mean voices in my head that I still hear sometimes. Especially since I came back here, they have been getting louder. But this is not the equivalent of my bedroom with slightly more sticky linoleum floors.

It's the bustling hub of all that I hate. People close, strangers, touching, sweaty man, the anticipation of a hookup in every glance, every interaction. The hungry gazes on the slightest inch of exposed female skin. All of it makes me want to gag.

The Amish-looking guy behind the bar puts the three shots I ordered in front of me. I grab the first one and down it in one big gulp. The tequila is nicely warm in my throat, and I lick my lower lip to get rid of a drop left.

"So you really are the lonely loser your parents think you are.", a voice says close to my left ear, and I jolt back. The barstool wobbles and I would have toppled backward if it weren't for the big warm hand that is on my lower back in a second and the foot in a large black boot that steps down on the tipping base of the stool.

I take a sharp breath in, closing my eyes. Then I hear a chuckle.

"You can open them again, loirinha. You would have hit the floor by now if you'd continued falling. Although I am not sure how helpful closing your eyes is."

My eyes snap open, and I scowl at Nael.

"Hands off!", I hiss and swat his hand away. The flutter of my stomach, his hand caused, makes my skin itch. What the hell? Nael lifts them in defeat. "Alright, next time, I will just let you fall." I scoff.

"Shouldn't you be off trying to grope my sister or make small talk with the others? What do you want?"

"Elodie sent me to check on you.", he shrugs his shoulders, and there is an annoyed glint in his eyes. Mmmh, so the sister is in the way. I have to stifle a laugh. Sorry, big man.

"Tell her I'm fine. You guys should just enjoy your night and let me drink here in peace." I take one of the two remaining shots, lift it towards him, and gulp it down quickly.

"Goddess, what have I done wrong?", I think I hear Nael mumble. Then louder he says: "Are you sure you are ok? Why don't you come back to our table?"

"Na, really, I'm ok. Could you tell Elodie? Take this.", I push the last shot glass towards him. Nael takes it in one of his massive hands. Him holding it looks like he is part of a child's tea party and holding one of those tiny plastic cups Emma used to force me to pretend to drink out of. I can't hold back the cackle fast enough.

His eyes snap up at me.

"What?", he shouts over the loud music, leaning in slightly. I can smell his aftershave, and the earthy scent is distracting me for a second.

"Nothing.", I shout back. Nael's eyes remain on my face for a moment. Then he shrugs. "You truly are a little weird, aren't you?"

I shrug back and turn towards the bartender again to get more shots. I don't plan on talking to the ‚prince 'any longer. Although I must say, I was a little intrigued by him being a dragon born—a little. A tiny part of my brain was on the edge of its seat while he talked about it to my parents. The remaining 90 percent were only thinking about how to get out of going out tonight.

I sigh and rub over the rim of one of the holes in my ripped, high-waisted jeans. In the time we have been here and spent talking to our parents, I could have finished my watercolor of ‚Berti'. Sighing again, I look up when the dude behind the bar drops more liquor in front of me.

"Getting waisted, Morticia?", a loud voice sounds from my left, and my head snaps up. Even over the loud bass of the music, I would recognize it anywhere. Liam. The d**kwat that tried to assault me in the men's room in high school. Captain of the football team and resident playboy. He grins down at me, and my blood runs cold. Nothing about him is attractive to me, even though objectively, I know he is. Hell, I think I even had a tiny crush on him when I was younger. Now his bright blue eyes and surfer boy smile send a shiver down my spine.

"Nope.", I let the ‚P 'pop. My voice is calm and cold. I will never let him see how much he scares me. That his mere presence makes it so I can't breathe, and I feel his huge hands on my thighs again, pressing me down on the cold tile floor and forcing them apart. I take a controlled breath in and try to blink away the blurriness. I'm feeling woozy. Breathe, Maeve. He can't hurt you. There are tons of people around. He won't touch you again. Never again. Breathe.

"Well, what else would you call this?", Liam points at the shot glasses in front of me. I shrug. "A typical Friday for you and your pawls?", I quip.

I see him sneer at me. "Oh, aren't you a funny one?", he muses, putting one of his hands on my barstool and pulling it toward him.

I stiffen. "Take your hands off.", I say, my voice shaking a little. Liam lets out a laugh.

"Or what?", he comes closer. "Tall guy got to touch you, why not me? Don't tell me I am still not good enough for our Ice princess." He stares at the plunging V-neck of my crop top and reaches to touch the fabric that is loosely covering my boobs.

I slight off the barstool, away from him. "D-Don't touch me!", I hiss and try to collect myself. I can't show him how much this makes me want to vomit. He is nothing. Less than nothing. Turning around, I search the platform for Ryan or Elodie. I want to leave. Now.

But before I can see any of them, I feel his hand on my hip pulling me back. A second later, I'm pressed up against him, and thanks to the dim lighting, no one will notice or think anything of it.

"And where do you think you are going?" I feel his er**tion press into my lower back. No. NO! I'm… I'm not weak. I'm not 15 any longer. He can't do that.

I ram my elbow into his solar plexus and step on his foot simultaneously.

"I said: Don't. Touch. ME!". I punch his face hard with every word. Finally, the commotion has people turn towards us, and I can see the bartender freeze.

Liam shakes his head, holding his jaw for a second and spitting out some blood.

"You don't know what you've just done.", he growls. Then he launches at me, but I am faster. I duck and skit past him. Grabbing a giant jug off the bar, I turn around and slam it over his head.

"Consent is a thing, you f**king prick!", I yell. My chest is heaving.

I see Liam try to get up, but big hands grab him. Ryan. "What the f**k, man?!!", he drags him out of the club.

I am still standing there trying to catch my breath when Elodie is suddenly beside me.

"Maeve?", she says quietly, putting a hand on my forearm. I flinch. "Come on, Maeve. Let's go home." Elodie approaches again, slower this time. And I let her take my hand. She guides me out of the club and back to the Range Rover we got here in.

I don't know how I got home. The car ride is a blur of the stench of vomit, the smell of cough drops—someone forcing water down my throat, being carried into the house by dad.

Now I'm lying on my bed staring at the ceiling. My head is throbbing, and there are flashes of that white light behind my eyelids every time I close my eyes.

I try to calm down by doing a few breathing exercises, but it is no use. Finally, I get off the bed and tumble into my bathroom. The mirror over the double sink tells me that I look like a half-dead panda. My hair is disheveled, my eyeshadow smudged, and there is a huge vomit stain on my top.

"Ugh. Disgusting.", I huff.

I strip and get into the shower. Letting the hot water run down my back, I untie my hair and sit down. The drops are pelting down on me and form a constant hum. I just want tonight to be over.

______________

Nael

Sh**. I really don't know when tonight got derailed.

Oh, well. I do know. It was when Maeve punched that f**ker. She was right to do so, and the thought of his hands on her makes me weirdly angry. Tss. I really need some sleep, don't I?

I rub my face and stare out the windshield.

"Tonight was… interesting.", Jordan pipes up beside me.

"Yup."

"Did you get to talk to Elodie?", he turns towards me.

"Nope."

I grip the steering wheel harder. Just when I was about to take her out for a bit of fresh air, Maeve decided to sucker punch the douche that apparently groped her. Maybe outside a club was not the best place either, but whenever I tried before we got there, we constantly got interrupted. I sigh.

"Guess I will try again tomorrow.", I shrug. Maybe it's for the better. Tomorrow. I will get Elodie alone and have space to talk things through with her. Without a tiny she-wolf running interference. Don't get me wrong: I'm sorry for what happened with that piece of sh**. But why tonight, huh? Damn, she looked so scared. NO! She vomited in my car. I scrunch my nose and focus on the fact that I have to clean this car, instead of the train of thought that Ismir is trying to push my way.

Those big heterochromatic eyes zoned out, staring at the ceiling. Her head lolling from one side to the other in Elodie's lap.

Ugh. Stop it. Elodie. She is my mate. I have to talk to her about me marking her at the next blood moon. I will tell her all about it tomorrow.