Elara’s POV
I blinked. The alcohol made my brain feel like wet cotton—heavy and slow. He just helped me. He chased that creep away. He looked... clean. Neat. He didn't fit in here, just like me. But he didn't make me feel scared. It was weird.
"Whatever," I heard myself say. My voice sounded floaty.
He nodded and sat smoothly on the stool, but he didn't get too close. He kept a perfect distance.
He signaled the bartender. "A glass of water, please." Then he looked at my almost empty glass and added, "And a water for the lady, too."
"I don't need water," I mumbled. I reached for my drink again, but my fingers weren't listening to me. I almost knocked the glass over.
A hand grabbed the glass to steady it. His fingers were long, and his nails were clean. He didn't take the glass away. H
