“Just get a fooking beer, man,” Mick grumbled. “Good God almighty, you’d think he’d never seen alcohol in his life. Young man, young man, young man.”

I’d heard him say that a million times, but I still had no idea if he was actually saying “young man” or something else. If he was, I also had no idea why. I’d never bothered to ask.

A grin creased Dylan’s lips, and some of the tension seeped out of his shoulders. “Stella. Please,” he finally said.

“Now. Feck’s sake.” Mick resumed his hunch over his beer.

“Demigod Kieran came in here?” Dylan asked me. “Is that what the bartender meant?”

“Yeah. It was during Kieran’s stalking phase. He came in here and…” I remembered the things he’d said to me on that occasion, the pull of his body. My face heated and my core tightened. I cleared my throat. “He was pretty arrogant and I wasn’t having it.”

What was a tiny lie amongst friends?

I told Dylan the story of how Kieran had bought the bar out from under my ex-boyfriend.

“I liked it better before,” I said, watching Liam pour my pint.

“He didn’t kill your boyfriend?” Dylan asked.

“He was an ex, not a current boyfriend—”

“I realize that, but the guy was paying your tab and lording it over you. I’m surprised Kieran didn’t kill him.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s not his father.”

“Most Demigods are his father, Alexis. You need to harden yourself for that. And the best Demigods are your father.”

Dylan started and then stepped away from the bar, turning back to glance at the woman beside him. He muttered an apology. Apparently she’d gotten tired of his presence and shoved him away.

She threw him an annoyed scowl, but her gaze changed the moment it landed on his face. Her eyes rounded and her breasts jutted out, as though someone else had suddenly assumed control of her body and didn’t know how to work the thing. She turned toward him, the man next to her completely forgotten.

“Excuse me, I am so sorry. Did I bump you?” she asked in a breathy whisper.

“Good Christ,” Mick muttered, watching the exchange.

“No, it’s okay,” Dylan said, shrinking away from her notice.

“Honestly, I’m sorry. Hi, I’m—”

“No.” Mick waved her away, his arm crossing in front of my face in large, sweeping movements. By his animation, I was pretty sure he’d been on the whiskey earlier, fallen asleep at the bar, and was on round two. I was pretty good at guessing his moods. This was the surliest. “Don’t even bother. He’s too good looking for you. Move along.” He shooed her. “Move along. Never gonna happen. He’s way out of yer league. Know when yer beat. Git!”

“Is this real life?” Dylan said quietly, standing away from the situation with a cockeyed smile. “Did he just tell her to ‘get,’ like an animal?”

“This is my life, actually, yes,” I said. “Welcome. It gets weirder.”

The woman, probably terrified of Mick’s manic stare, turned away.

“Stand closer to Mick,” I told Dylan. “No one will bother you there.” Mick grunted his agreement. Our drinks landed in front of us a moment later.

“On the house, Lexi, like normal,” Liam said. “Different owner paying this time, though.” He winked.

“I’m not sure if I should bother making a statement by paying,” I mumbled.

“Am I on the house?” Mick slapped his hand down.

Half the people lining the bar jumped and fell silent, shooting him nervous looks.

“What’s funny is, he isn’t magical,” I murmured to Dylan. “He doesn’t even throw his punches straight. Yet they are all terrified.”

“You datin’ the owner?” Liam asked Mick.

“I will for a whiskey,” Mick replied.

Liam rolled his eyes and moved away.

“Did you know my name?” Dylan asked me after things had calmed down and Mick started grumbling to himself. Definitely on round two for the day.

“No, the woman said it in the café.” It dawned on me what he was asking. “That one Flora yelled out? No, I didn’t know that one. Honestly, Dylan, people don’t tell me all that much. It’s my fault, really, because everyone else asks about stuff except for me. I’ve always just…kinda taken things as they come. You’d understand if you’d known my mother. There was some new kind of crazy every day—you dealt with what was in front of you, and you moved on. So no, I knew very little going into your town.”

Bria emerged from a throng of people and spread out her hands. “Kieran ruined this bar. Ruined it! I can’t drink here. Who are any of these people?” Bria leaned over the woman who kept sending furtive glances at Dylan despite Mick’s warning. “Hey!” She hooked a thumb at me. “That’s Alexis Price.” She directed the thumb at herself. “I work for Demigod Kieran.” She pointed at Dylan. “He’s not interested. Move!”

The grin twisting Dylan’s lips widened. “This is not real life. It isn’t. No guards or anything…”

The crowd shifted and swayed. Bodies parted. Jerry emerged from the throng, his wide, flat features closed down. He stopped behind the woman and man, now staring at me with wide, excited eyes.

“Move,” Jerry said in his deep, earth-shaking baritone. His muscles popped out on his frame, turning him from large to imposing.

The couple scrambled off the barstools, muttering their apologies. Their smiles and excited eyes said we’d made their night. They’d been told to leave by the magical elite, the next best thing to seeing Kieran himself.

News of our, or rather my, presence spread across the bar like wildfire. Faces turned and people clustered closer, trying to get a look at me.

“We should leave,” I said to Bria. I grabbed a loose strand of hair and tucked it behind my ear. “I’m not dressed to be noticed. Let’s go back to the house.”

“Fuck ’em.” Bria motioned for another couple to leave. “We need a seat for a giant.” She pushed Dylan down into the seat the woman had evacuated and pointed for Jerry to sit farther down.

“I’ll stand,” Jerry said, taking up residence behind Dylan. “He probably needs a wall behind him. Every woman in this place is staring. It’s distracting.”

“Well, yeah, he’s liquid sex,” Bria replied. “Look at the guy. He looks like a sweaty, dirty night in satin sheets. No offense, bud, but you do. Change your image if you want people to perceive you differently.”

Dylan, clearly uncomfortable, spread his arms and looked down at himself. “I’m wearing a white shirt and jeans.”

“Yeah. A tight white shirt, showing off your muscle, and snug jeans, showing off your ass. That is what hot guys wear. As a hot guy, you are clearly asking for it.” She put up her hands with a grin, obviously joking. “Hey, no one can accuse me of double standards.”

Jerry chuckled. Bria had apparently grown on him.

“Maybe try a faded, wrinkled blue shirt,” she added. “That’s a bad look. Or a bag over your head. That might help.”