Freed

Fourteen

Harry's POV

"It's been three days since we adopted, and you still haven't touched her." Ashley says, her voice an irritating buzz in my right ear. I sink lower in my seat and pull out my phone. "Harry, stop ignoring me," she whines.

I clench my right fist, mentally counting down from ten. I've just got to attend this function and then we're going to head back, and I'll run away from this crazed woman. The car stops, making me sit up and look out hopefully.

"We're here," the driver says. Hallelujah! I push open the car door and step out. The whole road is blocked off and everyone is covered in a combination of colors. I wrinkle my nose in disgust and internally let out a cry for help.

Why did the King of India just have to be at this time of the year? Why did Holi have to take place now, while he was here? And then to top it all off, why did he have to invite father to this crap festival? Because now here I am, having to attend this instead of father.

"Sir, the King is seated up there." A guard says in my ear, nodding towards the stage. I nod and begin to make my way through the battlefield towards him. Colors are flying everywhere, and I can bet my life that by the time I make it through, my clothes will be multi-colored.

"Stop!" I halt, my ears and heart immediately responding to that voice. Oh God, that laugh...I turn around, my eyes scanning the crowd for that particular someone. "Fuck," she groans. "My face. My hair, even the space between my toes."

She sounds drunk. My gaze finally lands on her, as she weaves her way through the crowd, a steel glass clutched in her right hand. Dean is rushing behind her, his hands filled with color.

"You can run, but you can't hide!" He yells, sounding equally drunk. Mus bolts past me, her shoulder brushing against my chest. Dean is right after her, though he notices my presence and slows down for just a second, before forgetting I exist altogether.

I continue on my path, but now I have every intention of staying a while longer. Once I've met the King, he tells me to stick around and enjoy the festivities. Little does he know that this was my plan since I realized Mus was attending. I make my way off the stage and towards the refreshments table. I grab a glass of wine and try to source out Mus once more.

As I'm staring off toward the entrance, wondering if she left, I hear a loud clunk from behind me. I turn around to find Mus leaning against the table, her eyes half shut.

"One more!" She yells, holding up her index finger. There's no one attending to the bar, so I really don't know who she's talking to. However, in order to not upset her, I hand her my half full glass. She takes it eagerly, and gulps down its contents, without once looking at me. She slams the glass onto the counter, and turns toward me.

The second her eyes land on me, they widen and she seems to have sobered up.

"Okay, you need to stop following me," Mus says, jabbing her finger into my chest. "I'm really not..." She trails off, a hiccup escaping from her lips. I raise my eyebrows, amused at her antics.

"You're really not?" I question, wrapping my hand around her forearm.

"What?" Mus scrunches up her nose, and pouts. "God, you're drunk, aren't you?" I let out a chuckle.

"Yeah, I am," I agree. I brush my free hand across her cheekbone. This is wrong, so wrong. But while I can, I will grab the opportunity. Plus, it's not like Mus will remember any of this tomorrow.

"Harry!" I turn to find the King making his way toward me. He's holding a brass shield in one hand. "It's time for the beating." I furrow my brows, confused.