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CHAPTER EIGHTY FIVE

—JASMINE

I shriek and shake my head, the exhilarating and burning feeling from the liquor coursing through my veins like a wild animal. I'm a loser when it comes to drinking, I can barely hold my alcohol, and moments like this make me proud that I can't. I just want to drown, to forget, to escape.

"Another one, Mason," I say to the bartender, my voice slurred and sloppy. We've become friends, I guess. I don't know. I'll probably never come back here again. I've been here for twenty minutes, and I think Mason seems to like me. Maybe only because I'm drinking and paying for the most expensive alcohol, and he would simply want me to drink more because that equals more money.

Mason raises an eyebrow, his throat moving heavily as he speaks. "You can't be at the counter and drink so much. Would you like to order a booth?" he asks, his deep voice tinged with concern.

I gaze up at him, my eyes squinting slightly. Such a huge Adam's apple. He has nice brown honey skin, and he's really tall and
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Heather W
Himbo to the rescue because her kids are now most definitely hostages to some kind of essence monster now that she decided numbing herself was more important than safe guarding her infants.
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