Page 10 of Feeding Beauty (The Lost Girls #5)

Girl, Clean Yo’self Up

AURORA

T he second my boots hit the floor behind the bar, the high rushes straight to my head.

It’s not magic. Not feeding. It’s the rush of being seen , not just watched. My breath comes fast, my skin flushes, my body sparks from the inside, lit on a live current

The crowd is still screaming, but they’re miles away and I’m floating above them. Golden, electric, and real.

I’m a crown jewel that’s been gloriously smashed into a hundred dazzling pieces.

Here, I’m still a symbol, sure. A Lost Girl. A dare. A fantasy. But I’m not behind the glass anymore. I shattered it. Stepped through.

I danced. I laughed. I took up space. And no one recoiled.

No one offered tight smiles or curtsied before turning away.

They screamed. They roared. They reached for me. Not to cage me. To celebrate me.

For the first time, I’m not cursed. I’m alive.

And I don’t ever want to go back.

Snow squeezes me so tight, I yelp. “That was so sexy, I’m mad about it.”

My heart does a half-skip. “Mad?” I think she’s joking, but she’s touched a sensitive nerve.

She shakes my shoulders. “Oh, hell yeah! I’m jealous as all witchtits.

I could keep it inside and let it fester and get all passive-aggressive or just call out my shitty response to your awesomeness.

” She gives me a gentle nudge. “Jealousy is normal, girl. I’d rather you take the compliment that I’m threatened, and we laugh it off, and then move on. ”

My brain can’t wrap around that.

“She came out with the attitude of someone who’s been doing this for years,” Ariel nearly whines, rolling behind the bar. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to get comfortable doing this? Weeks.”

“ Months, ” Snow mouths to me.

Rap doesn’t say anything. She just flicks her eyes up and down me, then nods once. That means more than any applause. Her approval means I get to stay.

“Shot?” Snow offers, already holding up two mini glasses. She passes another to Ariel as Rap leaves, heading to her office.

I slam it. The liquor scorches down my throat with fire and honey. We clink the empty glasses.

“Hell yeah,” Snow yells. “Let’s get these thirsty people some drinks.”

The crush of people at the bar nearly spills over with excitement at her words. I dive in, ready to slay the rest of this night.

This is my moment.

The moment is on fire. Everything is on fire.

Not literally, but it starts with the very first drink order when I reach for the soda gun and press the wrong nozzle. A full stream of club soda hits a man square in the crotch.

He yelps, jumping back from the bar with a curse.

“Oh no...shit—” I fumble, hit another lever, and now I’m spraying something red and fizzy directly onto the bar top. It arcs into the air, raining down in a sticky fountain.

Snow doubles over, howling. Ariel claps once, slow and solemn.

I grab a bar towel and try to mop it up, but now I knock over someone’s beer.

Chaos.

Pure, dripping, humiliating chaos.

“Damn,” Snow wheezes. “Hot Girl can command a room but give her one button and it’s a war crime.”

I groan, already flushed, already laughing. “Why are there so many buttons? Is this thing powered by dark magic?”

“That’s what I said when I started,” Ariel deadpans. “Don’t worry. We all baptized the bar in soda our first week.”

I look down at the disaster I’ve created. A pool of sticky liquid, a grumpy wet patron, and a half-mopped mess.

Okay, this is fine. Apparently, this is normal. Things can only get better from here.

It does not get better.

I forget which liquor goes in a vodka soda and pour tequila instead. A guy asks for an old fashioned and I ask him what era that is. I can’t work the tap without the handle jerking sideways and spraying foam all over my shirt.

Every time I try to ring something up, the register beeps at me, judging my whole existence.

Snow keeps yelling “STOP HITTING VOID!” while Ariel wheels by tossing coasters like ninja stars and mouthing, “ Don’t panic, ” in slow motion.

Someone asks for a French 75, and I black out.

I break two full bottles of liquor, four glasses, burn myself on the espresso machine, and ruin someone’s expensive whiskey pour by topping it with ginger ale. The guy doesn’t even flinch—he just tips his head back and drinks it.

And the worst part?

I care.

I want to be good at this. I want to do it right without magic or manipulation.

But nothing works the way I want it to. There’s no quick fix. No charming smile that rewinds time. No handmaiden or servant to call to come clean up my mess. And I have never been so infuriated in my life.

I used to hate being underestimated. Now I hate that I might deserve it.

At the end of the night, I’m left woefully scrubbing the bar top, sticky from head to toe and feeling I'm an utter failure.

My stomach is cramping with hunger. I was too nervous to eat before my shift and too busy screwing up drinks to grab anything during. The emptiness makes every small failure feel catastrophic.

Talon walks up, the entire place shut down for closing and clean up.

“How was your first night?” he asks.

Irritation flares in me. I can’t tell if he’s being glib. My lack of food also might be contributing to my ire.

From his position at the door, Talon likely had a good view of my disaster zone but every time I looked over, he was either ushering new patrons in or checking IDs. Maybe he didn’t notice?

“I served exactly two drinks correctly. Two. Out of...okay, let’s not count how many.” I shut my eyes tight, rocked by the reality and resisting the urge to tally the exact numbers. “How was your night?” I ask, changing the subject.

He shrugs. “Nothing to it.” He pushes a small dish of bar nuts in front of me.

Great. So much for a distraction. I instantly pop some of the snacks in my mouth even as I glare at him.

“Hey, hot boy,” Snow calls from where she’s replacing the bottles of liquor I broke earlier. “Take her home so she can get some rest and a shower.”

A flash goes off in my face. Ariel has snapped yet another picture, with the benefit of extra light to capture the mess I am.

She grins at me from behind the camera. “You’ll love that I captured this memory one day.”

I doubt it.

I return to vigorously scrubbing the bar. “No, I need to help finish clean-up.”

Ariel and Snow approach me from either direction. Snow shakes her head. “Nah, we got this. Right, Ariel?”

“Totally, go rest,” Ariel says. “Tonight was...a lot.”

My shoulders drop as I stop cleaning.

“It’s okay if it takes you a couple weeks to get the hang of it,” Ariel reassures me.

“Or months,” Snow says, shooting a quick sideways glance at Ariel. “Months is okay too.” Then with a genuine grin, she gives me a side hug. “You’ll get it babe, hang in there.”

I return a weak smile. “Thanks guys.”

“And good job, big fella,” Snow says, shooting a double thumbs up to Talon. “Way to stand there all night and look menacing.”

“Ten out of ten,” Ariel nods. “Very scary.” They both give him a polite golf clap.

He narrows his eyes at them, clearly not sure what to say.

I throw on my cloak, hating the slide of it over my sticky arms despite trying to wipe them off in the bathroom earlier. Talon and I step out into the biting chill of the night, our breaths visible in the air.

Although spring is poised to arrive at any moment, winter stubbornly hangs on, much like a needy pet refusing to let go.

The city streets are lined with a thin layer of frost that crunches under our feet.

Despite the cold, I prefer the icy embrace of this urban landscape to the comforts of home, where the fields are already bursting with lush green grass and vibrant flowers.

“I can’t believe they don’t hate me,” I mutter, shoving my hands in my pockets.

Talon nearly stops walking, brows furrowed. “Why would they hate you?”

“Because I was just awful.” I scrub a hand over my face. “I made things so much worse. I’m supposed to be there to help, and Rap had to come out and cover the bar too. If I were them, I’d hate me.”

Talon half-snorts, half-huffs. “No, you wouldn’t. And they don’t either. Besides, this is the first time you’ve ever had to try so hard.”

I bristle at that, blood rushing to my cheeks. “I try constantly . I had to work extra hard with my tutors to prove I’m more than just a face. The amount of effort it takes to look and act royal the way I’m expected to is staggering. So no, this is not the first time I’ve tried, Talon.”

For as long as we’ve been together, I’m genuinely pissed he doesn’t think I try. He thinks I’m a spoiled princess. Like everyone else.

He doesn’t say anything for a couple of steps, allowing me to simmer in my self-righteous anger.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he says carefully. “I guess I lose sight of that because you’ve always made the difficult things look so easy. So maybe this might be the first time you’ve ever tried and failed?”

I open my mouth ready to shoot out some snappy retort, but I’ve got nothing. He’s right. My gait slows.

The stickiness covering me is a coating that seems to crawl over my brain. I can’t wait to get back to the apartment and shower it off. Maybe have a good cry. Definitely burrow like a little miserable slug under the covers.

I steal a look at Talon, tucking a hand under either arm to hug myself. “Aren’t you going to say it?”

He turns to me, with an expression of surprised confusion. “Say what?”

“That this was a terrible fae fucking idea, and we should go home?” Misery wraps around my words. I deserve the recrimination. He should lay it on me.

Talon gently tugs at the back of my skirt, bringing me to a halt so we’re both standing facing each other.

The side street is deserted, creating a quiet, almost serene atmosphere.

Overhead, the streetlamps cast their soft, yellow glow, illuminating the area with a warm light that contrasts with the brisk chill of the evening air sweeping through, sending a shiver down my spine.