Page 2 of Feeding Beauty (The Lost Girls #5)

Ms. Pouty Runaway Princess

AURORA

I did it. Oh my fae lords, I actually did it .

I left home. I’m going to be a new person. I’m starting a new life.

Facing the prospect of actual independence and a fresh slate feels like being dunked in a crisp, chilled river and coming out to stand in the sunshine. Goosebumps rush along my arms and legs, and my chest hitches with excitement.

I’m not sure what’s more impressive. Sneaking out of my parents’ castle, getting through the border that leads to the Common World without raising so much as an eyebrow, or slipping by Talon.

The smells of hot foods, diesel fumes, and the frosty night air of Boston assault my senses.

Vapor hisses from underground grates, rolling over my boots and curling around my legs, as if the city itself is exhaling in the cold.

My vision blurs as I struggle to take in the lights of the city and the constant supply of cars and people streaming by.

I walked away from the cage I’d been lovingly locked away in. Once a month I would be fed, like clockwork. A system my parents and Talon agreed to, and we never veered from the schedule in all these years.

They loved me the only way they knew how, by keeping me safe. Even now, my chest aches thinking of them waking to find my room empty, just that letter on my pillow. But I can’t continue to suffocate under their care, no matter how well-intentioned.

After so many feedings and killings, and having it called survival like it’s my right, when it is carving me apart piece by bloody piece.

After feeding on that man who bragged about killing his wife, I felt nothing.

Not even a flicker of remorse or regret.

And that terrifies me more than anything else ever has.

Even more than when my terrible power was made to manifest.

I had to leave before that emptiness swallows me whole, before I stop caring entirely.

Others enjoy the Realm of Roses for the simpler living, but it already feels like the electric current of this new world is running through my veins. My heart quickly pumps and skips as I take it all in, adjusting the backpack over my shoulder.

A shakiness thrums through me, as the backs of my eyes prickle with the threat of tears. I’m not sure if I’m more overwhelmed by the sensory onslaught or by the sense of freedom that has me on the verge of screaming or falling to my knees. It’s all too much.

And it’s witchtitting wonderful.

This is what it is to be alive.

I hadn’t even realized how numb I’d been until now, how curated and silent my life had been. As if I’d been living in a museum exhibit.

Back in the Rosari court, the women always smiled at me as though I were a statue—pretty, priceless, and entirely irrelevant to the real world. Their compliments were syrupy, their conversations rehearsed. They’d praise my gowns and mimic my hair, then keep talking, shutting me out of their world.

I still remember the acute pain of trying to share in a joke about kissing tutors.

“How come the boys get all the handsome tutors?” one of the girls had complained. “Ours were either ancient or mean.”

“Mine had three teeth and smelled like boiled cabbage,” another had laughed.

I saw an opening and took it, sidling up to the girls. “You’re lucky. Mine was so sour I would’ve rather kissed a stable horse, with tongue.”

They both blinked at me in surprise. When they recovered, their tones turned polite and formal. “Oh, we are so very sorry to hear it, Your Highness. You are truly the most beautiful of all of us and should only be surrounded by beauty.”

I had no idea what my looks had to do with it. I was only trying to make them laugh.

They offered too-bright smiles, curtsied, and made excuses to retreat from my company.

Whether it was because of my looks, my status, or both, everyone watched me. No one ever saw me.

My life as a royal was too boringly perfect to have anything real to say, so no one expected me to try. When I laughed too loudly or asked questions I wasn’t supposed to, people got that frozen smile—like I’d stepped off-script.

I was so tired of being just a symbol.

I used to watch other girls whisper and shriek and storm off and cry and make up with their beaus or each other, then do it all over again.

I hated how much I wanted to be in it. That messy chaos of girlhood.

I wanted to be someone you had a pillow fight with during a sleepover and shared secrets with, not someone you bowed to.

Not that I could ever share my secret with anyone.

Still, a girl could dream.

The people of Boston slow their gait as they walk by and try to study me.

Even covered in a cloak, I know my pink hair sets me apart. Or maybe it’s the cloak itself, and the dress beneath it, with its laced bodice and heavy skirts. Perfectly ordinary back home. But here, it makes people stare.

Well, that, and the way every detail of me, down to my bone structure and nail beds, is shaped to be a sexual lure.

My physical form is that of a predator designed to draw in prey for survival.

My stomach twists with a sick feeling of self-disgust.

I ignore the gleam of interest sparking in the eye of nearly every passerby.

Some things don’t change.

But I am.

Changing, that is.

As I saunter down the busy walkway, I remind myself I’m not going to spend the rest of my life feeding in that castle. I’m going to show my parents, and more importantly, myself, that I am more than my curse.

Here, I’m just a girl.

A girl who has no fucking idea where or how she is going to live . I’m going to figure it out. All on my own.

“Aura.”

The bark cuts through the street noise. My shoulders snap tight, a shiver racing to my ears.

Closing my eyes, I pause for three long beats before turning around.

My skipping delighted heart drops to my stomach, weighed by the same feelings I always have whenever I see him.

Talon .

My protector stands, staring me down as people walk by us on either side as if we are rocks in a moving stream.

Dark, shaggy hair hangs in his eyes. He wears his usual fae leather jacket and pants, and he’s blending in no better than I am.

People slow as they pass, their gazes falling to the black scales creeping out from under the jacket covering one pec before morphing into the sculpted flesh of a man.

Even though his back and arms are covered, I know exactly where those scales start and stop on his body. The heat seeps between their glowing fissures as a warning. Touch, and you’ll burn.

The people here shoot glances at him the way people in our Fae Realm do. With fear and awe. The words I always heard whispered were “ dangerously gorgeous .”

The dangerous part is true in more ways than they know.

His dark, imposing figure seems to suck all the energy of the city to him, and an orange glow flashes in the depths of his eyes as he takes me in. Exasperation? Annoyance? Maybe both.

A stab of guilt goes through me.

“What do you think you are doing, Aura?”

My shoulders drop as I let out a heavy sigh. “Talon.”

His name is a complaint, my voice filled with irritation, submission, and longing.

Every part of me aches at the sight of him. My heart resumes its usual attempt to break its way past my ribs so it can fall at his feet.

A tingle sweeps across my lips as my body and soul are stricken with a fierce need.

A need neither of us will ever see satisfied.

No matter how many hands touch me, they will never be his. Every day it kills me. Just as I know it kills him.

“I’m taking control of my life,” I say, proud that the words come out steadier than I feel.

He shakes his head. “We have to get you home.”

My lip curls. “No.”

Talon’s jaw flexes as if he’s grinding down something unspoken.

He scans the city, nostrils flaring at the unfamiliar scents, then mutters, “At least tell me you’re not planning to start eating from sketchy food trucks like the one over there.

Looks like it hasn’t seen a health inspection since the Realm Wars.

” He keeps staring at the truck with hand-painted letters that announce it to be The Salty Bastard.

“Smells like lobster and grease.” Then he shakes his head.

“Aura. You don’t belong here.” As he steps toward me, his words are a whip snapping against a familiar sore spot, leaving a harsh sting in its wake.

“I don’t belong anywhere.” The hurt is raw, but I can’t hide it. I could never hide anything from him.

Talon’s expression softens. Pity .

Anger bubbles up in me. I am not to be pitied. Or feared. Or admired. No one ever sees past princess, Succubus, or unearthly beauty to realize I’m a person.

I cross my arms over my chest, tightening my jaw. “Besides, it’s not like you can force me to go home.”

He suddenly stands in front of me. The pitying expression is erased, his dark glower bearing down on me.

My mouth parts as his comforting smoky scent snakes over my senses in ghostly whisps, blocking out everything but him.

“This is a bad idea. You could get hurt.”

I shrug, schooling my expression into icy indifference. “No, I won’t. You’re here to protect me,” I say, ignoring the fact that he isn’t supposed to be here.

“Aura. . .”

“I made a vow to myself. I’m not going to feed anymore.” My words come out in a hushed tone as I drop my arms.

Not that anyone overhearing would understand. Not even in my own Realm do the people understand. My curse is a secret that has kept me isolated since I was a teenager.

The first awakening of my power still haunts my dreams.

Talon's expression snaps taut with disbelief.

“Maybe everyone is wrong. Maybe I can control it. But no one will give me a chance.” My voice cracks.

Desperation is plain on my face, and I don’t even try to hide it.

I need him to see it, to understand. “I want a chance to build a life of my own. I want to be more than what this curse has made me.”

Those deep, molten brown eyes search mine, and I melt a little.

Come on, Talon. You’ve always given me what I wanted. Don’t stop now.

Pushing my lip out in a slight pout, my pathetic big eyes are an absolute ploy.

Talon’s gaze drops to my mouth. And there it is. His hunger. The open desire. A fire kicks up in my belly.

Then it’s gone. He stiffens, emotion sucked back the way the tide abandons the sand.

“No.” Talon’s eyes are hard and commanding with his final decision.

“W-what?” The abrupt turn leaves me reeling, my chest lurching at the speed of it.

“We are going home.”

Irritation spikes in me, as I push my tongue against the inside of my cheek. “You can’t make me.”

He startles, flinching just enough for me to notice. “What?”

“You. Can’t. Make. Me.” I enunciate each word with all the petulance of a child.

I’ve never stood against him like this, and despite my exasperation with his unyielding nature, a little thrill goes through me.

“What are you going to do? Drag me back?” I hold open my arms, as if waiting for him to grab me and pull me away from this place.

He won’t. He can’t.

Not without burning me.

Talon’s brows drop as his expression darkens. His hands flex uselessly at his sides.

Part of me recognizes my taunt is cruel, but the reality of our situation is never far from my mind. How could it be?

This is the first time I’ve been able to use the thing that keeps us apart to my advantage.

“The way I see it,” I say, adjusting the pack over my shoulder, “you can go back without me and explain to my parents why you can’t make me go home, or. . .” I draw the word out. “You can stay here and make sure nothing bad happens to me.”

Conflicting emotions churn inside me, tangling like restless serpents.

You’re desperately trying to keep him by your side. It’s foolish, knowing you can’t be together. You should break away and forge a new path on your own. Stop torturing yourself.

Yet an overwhelming part of me dreads facing this alone. He’s my only true friend, the one person who truly sees and cares for the real me.

Talon never treated me the way everyone else always has. He always talked to me like I was a person. Not a princess. Not a symbol. Just. . .me.

When his square jaw flexes with barely restrained violence, I know I’ve won.

“Perfect.” I clap my hands together. “Let’s go.”

I turn and start back down the street.

“Where are we going?” Talon growls. His displeasure is like a cape sweeping behind me.

“I’m going to get a job.” I don’t even try to hide my excitement. “We are going to a bar called Poison Apple.”