Page 17 of Feeding Beauty (The Lost Girls #5)

The Starving Girl in the Shower

TALON

A urora refused to talk to me, or even look at me, the rest of the night. She manages to steer clear of me when we get back to our impossibly small apartment, an impressive feat.

When she vanishes into the bedroom, she still leaves the door open. It never fully closes between us. It always stays slightly ajar. Like her heart. Like her pain.

I kick off my shoes and settle on the lumpy couch again, shifting every few minutes as the cushions dip too far to one side. I fixate on the stained ceiling that gives off a faint mildew smell I still haven’t gotten used to.

The bedroom is patched up and I could sleep in there if I wanted, but I need to be within eye-shot of Aurora. Especially now. We don’t fight often, and I feel like absolute shit.

Lucifer hops up onto the armrest and immediately begins purring like a possessed creature. I never pet him or feed him, so I'm still mystified by what the hell he wants from me. Still, his eyes track me as if I owe him something.

I stare into the next room at the lump of Aurora's body in bed.

My jaw clenches tight, a vise of frustration and helplessness. She’s thrust me into an impossible situation.

The princess wants a normal life. One without fear, without her curse dictating every move she makes. I want that for her. Fae lords, I want it more than anything.

But she’s starving.

That agony is growing, a pressure cooker ready to explode. She’s pretending she can manage it, acting as if this hunger is a test of willpower rather than a merciless compulsion.

She wants freedom. I want her safe. Two goals that shouldn’t feel so far apart but do. A part of me seethes with anger that she won’t return home where I can control the situation. Instead, I can only witness her suffering, paralyzed and powerless. It's tearing me apart inside.

The couch digs into my spine while Lucifer curls up on my boots. Apparently, he owns them now. Eventually, exhaustion claims me, and I drift into a fitful sleep just before sunrise.

When I wake, it’s with a start.

Something's off.

The air carries the charged stillness of a summer storm. Still, yet vibrating with tension. Her magic—normally a faint hum beneath the surface—has changed. It pulses erratically, uneven as a heart that can’t find its rhythm.

I push upright. My eyes snap to the bedroom door, open as always but the sheets are an empty pool.

Dread curls low in my gut, and I'm on my feet.

Lucifer leaps onto the spot I just vacated, tail twitching.

The erratic hum of power leads me to the bathroom. My stomach knots. The door is closed, steam curling from beneath it, dense and unnatural.

"Aura?"

No answer.

Two steps take me across the hall, and I open the door.

Her power billows into my face, carrying the chill of death itself.

On the other side of the translucent curtain, her body is slumped in the tub, barely more than a silhouette.

The sight hits me so hard my chest seizes, ribs refusing to expand.

I surge forward and yank the curtain back, the rings rattling against the metal bar. The icy stream of water is still pounding on her skin. I twist the knob off with more force than necessary, cursing under my breath.

"Aura," I say sharply, crouching down beside the tub. "Come on. Look at me. Say something."

She doesn’t flinch. Her head remains bowed, hair plastered to her face, lips tinged with blue. Heavy magic leaks off her in thick, nauseating waves, the air bending and shuddering. Not pulsing with life—devouring it. As if her curse has turned inward, feeding on her own soul.

"Shit." I rip off my jacket, fast and clumsy, and cocoon her in it, a barrier between us. Even through the thick fabric, her skin is arctic. She shivers violently, a low moan rattling out of her, and for a terrifying second, I think she might slip under completely.

"Aura," I rasp, crouching lower, voice a fractured edge. "Stay with me. Move. Please, move." I give her a gentle shake.

Her head lolls to the side with a groan. “Talon.”

My relief is short-lived. She’s responsive, but she needs help.

I slide my arms under her and lift her out of the tub, keeping the jacket between us. Her wet hair clings to her cheeks, her breath shallow. Each step toward the bedroom is a negotiation with balance as I try to make sure she doesn’t brush against my bare chest.

We reach the bed, and I lay her down with more care than I’ve ever used in my life. I tuck the blankets around her, needing them to anchor her to this world. Looking down at her, the heat of my worry scorches my throat while I fight the urge to hold her closer than I should.

Fear coils through my body, taut bands tightening around every molecule. With each passing moment they squeeze tighter.

Aurora is starving. She won't go home and even if we did try to go back, it would take too much time. The obvious pain she is in compounds my helplessness as she groans and rocks back and forth.

But I'm not helpless. It's my duty to protect her. My princess. My Aura.

And I'll do whatever it takes.

I yank open a drawer in the kitchen and grab my phone. I got it quickly after we arrived, along with a special cover that ensures I won’t melt the damn thing.

I hated the contraption at first. It may be a necessary evil to function in the Common World, but the learning curve is still too steep for my liking.

Now it’s a lifeline.

The device is still unfamiliar to me, and it takes a frustratingly long time for me to use until I finally get what I want.

I planned for this. It felt like a betrayal at first, but all regret melts as I focus on what I need to do.

What Aura needs.

A sexual encounter.

The internet is a hub where most flock when they need the promise of touch or release. It takes almost no time at all to set up a rendezvous with someone. I wish I had more time to vet the situation, the target, but I don't.

I grab the pack I’ve stashed under the couch. All I need now is to collect Aurora.

This time, I find her on the bed, crumpled in a ball, rocking back and forth, eyes shut tight from the pain of starving.

"Come on. We're going." Even as I command it, I go to the dresser and pull out a few of her items.

Aura's eyes open, glossy and bloodshot. "What? Where?"

Thank fae lords she is up, but I still see her actively being eaten alive.

"You are going to do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you."

She sits up, her spine stiffening. "What's happening? What did you do?"

“What I always do.” My words are harsh, not with anger but with stress, but she recoils all the same. “Take care of things. You are going to feed."

Aura stands, hands visibly trembling as she pulls on the baggy clothes I set out.

It kills me to see her like this, but I shove down those feelings. I will do what must be done.

Fifteen minutes later, we are in a motel room I paid for in cash, keeping Aura out of sight. Though the attendant seemed as though a bomb could go off around him, and he'd barely blink.

Once in the shabby room, Aura paces, rubbing her arms with growing agitation.

"I can't, Talon. I'll kill them. And we don't know this person. We don't know?—"

"No. You won't." The words shoot out so firm, so commanding she stops dead in her tracks. "I won't let you. Now put this on."

I pull the crystal chains out of the small pack I brought and put them on the bed. Aura backs up quickly as she regards the familiar dress of jewels with a mixture of terror and revulsion.

She doesn't want to go back to this. She doesn't want to be what she's always been. It's why she ran.

But I can't let her be in this pain. No, fuck that. I won't let her be in this pain.

"Aura."

She lifts her tortured, miserable gaze to meet mine. My insides crack, but I don’t let it show.

"Do you trust me?" I ask as if I have everything under control.

A beat, and then she nods slowly.

"Put it on," I say a little more gently this time.

Aura's shoulders slump as she walks to the bed, eyes glassy with unshed tears. As she touches the jeweled strands, her expression hardens.

She knows what she needs to do to survive.

Good girl.

I peel off my jacket the same time she strips down. Aura shivers as the glittering chains slide over her flesh, cold no doubt.

No matter how many times I've seen Aura's naked form, I am always in awe. I love every inch of her. I can't help but torture myself yet again with thoughts of all the things I would do if I were able to worship her body the way I dream of.

In this drab motel room of moss green and mustard colors, she is a jewel of vibrancy and seduction.

"Don't look at me like that," she says with sudden force.

I startle. "Like what?"

"Like everyone else does. Like I'm your wet dream come true. Like I’m some perfect untouchable thing you can only fantasize about. " The last words come out on a sneer.

I open my mouth and close it. I'm not sure if this new blatant way of speaking her feelings is because of the company she keeps now, or if she's always felt this way and has only now given herself permission to say it out loud.

Okay, it’s probably the latter.

Fine. We're not at the castle anymore? The rules are different? We're saying what we're thinking now?

"You are my every dream come true, Aura. And it's not because you're perfect, because you're not."

Aura's shoulders tense as her chin lifts.

"Did you know you have a splotchy freckle on your ass?" I raise an eyebrow. "Very unsightly."

Her mouth drops open and then closes a few times like a fish out of water.

"You snore. You never put the cap back on anything. Jars, bottles, toothpaste. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve grabbed something only to have it spill all over me.

It’s infuriating. Your laugh? You start with this normal sound, but then it wheezes out like you’re eighty years old and dying.

It’s horrifying. You’re impossible when you’re hungry.

Worse than impossible. You become a nightmare gremlin.

Snapping, pacing, biting people's heads off until someone throws food at you from a safe distance. You refuse to admit when you’re wrong.

I could prove something to you, have it written down, signed by the fae lords themselves, and you’d still argue with me out of pure, stubborn spite.

You are messy. Not cute messy. Clothes everywhere , dishes left in the sink for eternity, your hair tangled in the drain like a horror show. "

She glares daggers, and I want every one buried in me.

"See, princess? You're not perfect, and yes, you are absolutely my dream. You and I both know that I dream of making you scream, of being the one you feed on, because even with all of your many flaws, I'd let you suck the life out me through my dick, lips, or otherwise."

A knock on the door interrupts us before Aura can respond.

"Let me do the talking," I order.

She nods, but her eyes remain wide with astonishment, her mouth slightly agape, as if she's struggling to comprehend what I lay bare.

"One more thing." I grab another item from the bag. A jeweled collar with a long chain. I walk to her. "Lift your hair." The command comes out husky even though I don't mean it to. I could even let her put it on, but I do it myself anyway.

Never looking away from me, she lifts her hair, her breasts rising up toward me like an offering with the motion.

I'm careful not to touch her as I fasten the collar around her long, elegant neck.

My mouth turns dry with the need to run my tongue over the column of her throat.

Warmth and energy crackle in the short space between our bodies.

Aura searches my eyes, though I'm not sure what she's looking for.

"I've got you," I say, giving the collar a short little double tug. A whimper escapes her, and I'm nearly undone. I step back, and she drops her hair.

Then I cross the distance to the door and open it.

"Thank you for coming," I say to the woman I’ve been expecting.

I promise. I won't let you die.

The promise is a silent vow to myself, to Aura, and to this woman.

I keep my promises.