Lucas leaned back against the counter, swaying just enough for Selene to pinch the edge of his sleeve in silent disapproval, but he shook her hand away with a lopsided grin. His cheeks burned from drink, his lips curled into the kind of grin that spoke of mischief rather than fury. He was not angry, not even close. No...tonight he was drunk, and he was enjoying every second of the recklessness that came with it. He had not felt this kind of looseness since the days of his old life, in that futuristic world where neon lights and pulsing music blurred the lines between right and wrong. Back then, being drunk had been a way to forget; now, it was a way to let go.