Azel clearly saw Adelia flinch and drop her mug abruptly; her face had turned bright crimson.
But it wasn't in the usual endearing way that he had seen a lot in the previous hours, this was different... it was a true display of embarrassment.
He furrowed his brows; had she heard that statement? How had she? Were her ears that sharp?
No, she was probably bothered by something else... but his doubtful thoughts instantly changed as he watched her push her mug away slightly, clearly unwilling to meet his eyes.
Something inside Azel ticked, but he managed to keep his composure, just as he always had, and offered her a smile.
After all, it was merely the ramblings of a fool.
"Are you through?" Azel inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Surely not. You still have a few sips left."
Adelia looked up at him and simply said, "I... I am." She mustered a smile. "I'm already full; I can't drink anymore."
Azel's expression darkened. "That was rather... sudden," he said, his eyes subtly shifting towards the man who had spoken earlier.
The man—who appeared drunk—was seated at a table opposite them with about two more of his companions and they all seemed completely wasted.
Azel's fingers tapped impatiently against the table, but he restrained himself from reacting.
Hardly anyone heard what the drunk man had said, and even if they did and he took action, they would think him mad. To them, he was only joking.
He took a deep, calming breath and turned back to her, managing a faint smile. "You truly seem to have had your fill, milady," he began and the look in her eyes turned grateful. "Shall we—"
Suddenly, a burst of rowdy laughter reached both their ears, interrupting his words. The sound was coming from the same table where he had heard that comment earlier.
"Sluts these days barely know how to hold their liquor," said one of the men at the table. "That one over there must be quite an exception."
Azel clenched his jaw.
"She's really pretty, don't you think?" another one chimed in. "She doesn't look anything like the harlots in this place, it's almost like she's a noble."
"I wonder where he found someone like her... Do you suppose he'd be willing to share?"
"Why don't you ask him?" The one beside him urged. "He might be willing to hand her over once he's done with her."
Adelia's cheeks reddened even further, and she seemed to want to enter inside herself as she clutched at the folds of her dress.
Azel was trying his best to remain seated and not lunge towards them. These things often happened in rowdy places like this, it was just playful banter, he reminded himself.
The ramblings of fools.
So why… why was he so enraged? They were only teasing, so why was he so furious? …If only he could freely sink his teeth into their throats...
"Milady?" he called, his voice slightly hoarse. "If you're alright, then we should leave now."
Adelia looked up at him, her eyes reddened at the corners, as if on the brink of tears, but there was fury in them.
Something in Azel ticked again and he clenched his jaw. No, he needed to leave before his anger got the best of him.
He reached to take her slender hand, when he was interrupted by the drunken voice of one of the men.
Azel turned to see the man already heading toward their table. He breathed. Calm, he needed to stay calm.
The man would likely just come to tease a bit and then leave, but his target was Adelia, not him. She just might end up crying.
Her…? Cry?
A seething anger boiled inside him, more intense than ever before, his eyes fixed on the approaching man.
He would only watch. Yes, he would just see what the man had in mind and if it got out of hand...
His eyes traced the drunken man like a predator watching it's prey, ready to pounce at any moment.
Finally, the man reached their table, his head leaning uncomfortably close to Adelia's. And from Azel's throat came a low, nearly inaudible growl.
Adelia swallowed and glared angrily at the wasted man, her gaze unwavering.
Was this the reality of places like this? Didn't people realize how much weight their words carried?
What they had said had taken her by surprise… and it had hurt. Was that how they really saw all women who came to inns? Did drinking really mark a woman as a… harlot?
So much so that they would instantly assume so because they had seen her take a few cups…
The thought had made her furious, and just a few seconds ago, she had been on the verge of tears.
Not because she was hurt by what they considered harmless teasing, but rather because even though she was annoyed, she could hardly do anything about it.
Still, she wouldn't cry, she refused to cry! She knew that if she did, they would see her as weak.
"Hello there, pretty lady," the man said, a strong stench of alcohol coming from him that she had to wrinkle her nose in disgust. "Would you like to join us? Don't worry about the payment, we will be able to compensate you just as well as this man can, I'm sure."
The man voiced and his companions at the opposite table laughed.
Adelia's hands clenched into fists at her sides. How dare they? How dare they see her as someone who lacked morals? Just because they saw her drink?!
Her anger boiled over, and she wasn't afraid to show it. "I'm afraid that won't be happening," she began. "I don't offer my services to... people like you."
"Oh," the intoxicated man pondered. "Quite feisty… don't worry, we'll break you in where we're headed."
"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Adelia snapped.
"But, of course, you are. You don't have a say in this," he said, placing his large hand on her shoulder, causing her to flinch. Then he turned to Azel. "Wouldn't you agree, sir—"
Adelia could barely register anything that happened in the next second, it was a blur.
In one moment, the man's hand rested on her shoulder, and in the next, his head was crashed face-first onto their table with a sickening thud with Azel's hand pushing against the back of his head.
She almost let out a scream but stifled it quickly as her hands clasped over her mouth, watching the scene before her with wide eyes.
Azel glared down at the man, his eyes wild with anger, his hair falling in strands in front of his face, as he pressed the man's head ruthlessly deeper into the crack he had created on the table.
"You do not speak," he began, his gold eyes gleaming sinisterly, furiously from behind his dark strands of hair, his fingers digging painfully into the man's skull. "You do not touch, you do not even look at what is mine, unless you're ready to forfeit your life."
Then he shifted his gaze up to the others seated at their table and let out a low, threatening growl.
Adelia flinched again... that kind of sound wasn't supposed to come out from a humans throat.
It was almost... animalistic.
Panic took over them, causing them to struggle to escape, stumbling and tripping over their own feet.
But who could blame them? The aura of bloodlust coming from Azel was predatory, although Adelia understood deep down that he was likely channeling his anger for her sake.
But she couldn't really understand him... He wasn't the target of their taunts...
Gritting his teeth, Azel's feet attempted to give in to the impulse to pursue the fleeing cowards, just as a firm voice echoed in his mind.
'Milord!' Fabian's voice sounded. 'Control yourself!'
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