Page 13 of King of the Unsightly

I turned my head, unable to hold his intense eye contact.

Lucien laughed and shook his head. His light waves swayed with each turn. “I knew it. Secretive as always.”

Yeah, I was a hypocrite, but I couldn’t tell him that. I was already jobless. A broken disaster of a human being who could only take and never give anything in return. A whirlwind of red flags. I knew it all too well. I didn’t need to pile on more—like how my ex kidnapped me, and the only way I escaped was by mere chance as a freaky lady pushed me off a cliff. How I might have saved a swarm of pixies from a massive spider, and now a talking crow perched five feet from his face, and it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last. I would sound insane to anyone if I uttered those words out loud.

“She seems nice,” I spoke, dismissing what he said and expelling the thoughts spiraling in my mind.

Lucien rolled his eyes but still allowed me to change the subject. “She is. I like this one a lot, Addy.”

I scoffed under my breath. Lucien’s nice way of saying don’t fuck it up for him, but I’d say he already messed it up by lying to her about us being siblings.

I squeezed the cup until my knuckles turned white. “Got it.” I had no right to be angry, and he didn’t need to help me. So I stopped myself before I could act any more childish. “I hope this one sticks.” I gave Lucien a clumsy grin.

Lucien nodded, and we didn’t spend any more time on the subject. “I was going to drive you home, but I think it’s best if you stayed the night. I’ll take you tomorrow.”

I relaxed my grip and tapped my fingers on the cup. “Uh, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Good night,” Lucien said, mid-yawn.

“Wait.” I cleared my throat and attempted to sound as calm as possible. “I mean ... good night.”

Lucien frowned without saying another word and nodded.

After a couple hours of no sleep and straight binge-watching romantic comedies, I found myself yelling at the female lead to run, not walk, away from the dark, tall, and mysterious guy attempting to ensnare her with his witty comebacks and devilishly good-looking face. It was a fucking trap, girl. Run.

That’s when I knew I needed to stop watching TV. I was sounding more jaded by the second.

I got up, brushed the crumbs of chips off me I raided from Lucien’s cabinet, and took a shower. And it cleansed all the dreadful emotions away.

I stepped out and dried myself off. I leaned halfway over the sink and splashed my face with cold water. I glanced up at the vanity mirror and took it all in.

It was crazy what a hot shower could do for a person.

My reflection looked more like an echo of my past self. My blue eyes speckled with gold had a glimmer of hope ignited within them like wildfire to an arid forest. I thought they had lost their sheen—their spark—but they were now glowing under the light filtering through the window.

When was the last time I had felt this safe? Where I didn’t have to peek over my shoulder or worry someone or something might be following me. I was constantly on edge, and I didn't realize it until now.

I pulled my phone out of the charger and walked out of the bathroom and into the guest room. Hesitating, I picked up the outfit Lucien gave me off the bed.

The orange and pink stripes with a white collar shone against the black and red plaid comforter; I couldn’t tell which was uglier.

I felt like a person dressed for a kid’s show as I slid on the atrocious brown khakis. I honestly think he chose this as a cruel joke because I knew his taste wasn’t that bad.

I didn’t have to look in the mirror to know my outfit was absolutely ridiculous. I grabbed the crown and outfit the weird little creatures put me in, still in shock my life turned into this, and shoved it in the bathroom trash can.

I swung back to the guest room when a light reflected off the dresser and blinded me.

My jaw dropped.

Murderous Intent

Imulled over the chances of how the necklace made its way back to me. Did someone drop it off? Did Gren get it back for me?

My hand shoved in my pocket as the edges of the key poked my fingertips.

I had a horrible feeling about this.

I sighed, pulled my hand out, and clicked the seat buckle in, twirling my thumbs—suddenly self-conscious of how I looked in this god-forsaken outfit.

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