He was fully staffed tonight which, in theory, meant he should be at home with his feet up, cold beer in hand, and some sort of sport or other playing on the tv. And yet, because Kai couldnât leave well enough alone, here he was, having a beer in his own damn bar. Maybe it was the Dominant in him, but he preferred to keep an eye things. As if on cue, Salem hopped up onto the bar, rubbing up against his shoulder. He snorted, set down his drink, and gave the cat a little scratch under her chin.Â
Apparently, that momentary lapse in attention was all it took for all hell to break loose.Â
Some drunk was being obnoxious, getting loud, getting in the face of what looked to be a submissive. In the dimly lit bar, it was hard but to discrern their designation but, if Kai was a betting man âŚÂ
He was up and across the bar in the blink of an eye.Â
âOi,â he said, pushing the guy a step backwards. âThe hell is goinâ on here? If you think for one second you can pull this shit in my bar, youâve got ânother thing cominâ. Get the fuck out or Iâll remove you myself. Understand?âÂ
The submissive was a little tipsy herself, not quite as much as her aggressor. If she were honest, she was itching for a fight, or at least a conflict of some sort. Even if she came out the loser, which by all accounts was typically the case in those situations, at least she had access to a full breadth of self-expression when she was angry. She couldnât quite say the same for when she was sad, or confused, or lonely. And Dylan was all of those things lately.
Attitude pouring out from her against the drunk Dominant in her face, her expression became one of surprise when what seemed to be the barâs management came out to deal with her situation. Brushing herself off, she paid close attention as the man was dealt with, observing as he slinked away from both of them. Then she turned her attention to her ârescuer,â sizing him up intently. âThanks, Lancelot, but I was handling it,â she said, her tone of inextricable mixture of snark and gratitude.Â