The Dream Crafter(9)

And Fallon’s hands were still in her pockets.

By the time their friend turned a sickly shade of puce, the others were clued in this wasn’t an easy target and they joined the fight. Fallon ducked and sidestepped, which allowed two of them to crash together before she leaned forward and kicked back into the stomach of the third, which caused him to double over, an overloud ooff escaping him.

And with that, it turned into a brawl. The hands were now out of the pants, and Fallon used everything within grabbing or kicking distance to damage the men who surrounded her. But through the punches and the jumps and kicking a barstool so it flew through the air to hit a wolf on the side of his head, what kept Amana’s attention was the semi-feral smile on the redhead’s mouth, the way her eyes seemed lit from within as she leapt across the room and tackled one of the wolves so he landed back-first on the bar, after which she brought her fist down on his chest.

One tried to blindside her, but Fallon kicked back high into his head, bringing him down to one knee. She then jumped on him and used that momentum to get on top of the billiards table, where she proceeded to kick another two surrounding her before leaping back to the ground. Her goal seemed to be to leave them in as bloody of a heap as possible. She twirled and ducked, used elbows and knees and feet and hands to bring them down, and breaking of bone and long shouts of pain were all that could be heard in the otherwise silent club, where everyone who wasn’t involved in the fight made the wise choice of moving as far away as possible, even as they looked on in horrified fascination.

“Now she’s just showing off,” Laire complained as Fallon, sensing the wolf behind her, sidestepped enough that his punch missed connecting with her, and instead reached out to the side and dug her fingers into the back of his head, slamming his face down into the pool table so hard both table and skull cracked under the impact.

The fight was winding down, only one left standing, and at the last moment he bolted from the club, pushing past people to escape the redheaded warrior.

Fallon didn’t chase him. Instead, she shook her head in disgust and headed over to the brunette waitress, bending over the girl to have a quiet, intimate conversation with her. The Fallon with the young woman was so different than the one who had sat at this table. Not in the warrior – that had been obvious from the first – but in the woman who expressed concern by the way her body enveloped the smaller female, the gentle way Fallon took the girl’s hand in hers, the compassionate way Fallon held the girl’s gaze, saying something and waiting until the girl gave a teary nod in agreement, tears of relief and gratitude.

A prickle teased at Amana’s senses, the kind that warned you of being watched, and Amana turned her head to find Laire studying her, the woman’s gaze as direct as Fallon’s had ever been during their conversation.

Laire took a quick glance back to Fallon, then sighed, settling into herself, as if the words she was about to say had to be pushed out by force. “Stop thinking that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I see what you’re thinking. I’ve seen that look too many times not to.” Laire didn’t look at toward Amana as she spoke, but Amana felt the crushing weight of Laire’s attention just the same. “Don’t romanticize us. Don’t you dare let this little display here make you think what Fallon told you earlier isn’t true, that no matter what you decide we’ll get your brother out because it’s the right thing. We won’t. You say no, we’ll let your brother rot, and we won’t even lose sleep over it.”

Physical binds couldn’t tighten Amana’s chest more than the force of Laire’s words. Breathing hurt, moving hurt, everything in her stopped and shut down, and in her mind, the picture of her brother the last time she had seen him, wild-eyed but trying with the full force of his will not to let it show to his little sister.

“Don’t get me wrong. I think you should tell us to fuck off, but I think family ties are overrated, so maybe I’m not the right person to ask for an opinion.” Laire’s voice was too calm for someone ordering a death sentence. “But no matter what you decide, I want you to decide based on truth. Considering all the crap you’re going to have to deal with, that’s the least I can offer you.”

And now there was movement, as both Fallon came bounding up the stairs and Inara was moving back from the side, her phone no longer in her hands. Before Fallon had settled next to Laire, Inara came over to them and said, “Rhaum says the drinks are free since you were defending Des. He’ll send the bill for property damage to Kyo.”