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

An Unexpected Roommate Nails the Testicles

TALON

T he petite Black girl with white hair turns the lock and we follow her into the apartment.

“It’s not much,” Snow announces, letting us file past her into the tiny two-bedroom space.

She’s not wrong. The place is clean but far from new or polished.

The lumpy red couch in the living room is flanked by mismatched end tables and crowned with a crooked painting of a mountain landscape.

The kitchenette has beat-up oak cabinets and a mini fridge that hums ominously.

The hallway is too short, the ceilings too low.

I could burn this entire apartment to ash just by breathing too hard.

The earthy smell of mold tickles my nose, but is beaten back by layers of vanilla, lavender, and something that smells vaguely like sugar cookies. Dozens of candles line every flat surface. Some are melted nearly to the wick to combat the mildew. It’s a weird combo.

Still, Aurora beams, wonder lighting her face.

Snow tosses a set of keys onto the coffee table and jerks her chin toward the hallway.

“Bathroom’s through there. I appreciate y’all subletting from me.

I moved to the ground floor with Ariel. The landlord is a bit of a dick and wouldn’t let me out of my lease here.

Subletting isn’t exactly allowed, so if you see that tubby guy with the stained shirt, act like you’re visiting someone. ”

Oh great. Just what we need. An illegal squatting situation.

Snow opens the first bedroom door with a flourish.

“This is yours.” She winks at Aurora.

Aurora clutches her chest. “It’s perfect.”

Snow throws a look at me, a silent sanity check on my companion.

It’s. . .really not. The room is maybe six-by-four feet, and the only furniture is a full bed, a scratched vanity table, and a plastic drawer set being used as a dresser.

Still, it has a window, though it’s covered in poorly hung black gauzy curtains shot through with glitter.

Aurora rests her palm on the peeling paint on the wall, and exhales like she’s found her sanctuary.

Snow gestures but doesn’t open the door.

“That’s the second bedroom,” she says, turning to me.

“But there’s a situation. Shower leak from the apartment upstairs.

There is no flooring and one of the walls has been stripped down to its foundation, and the maintenance guy is on vacation until next week. So...”

“I’ll take the couch,” I say.

“Figured you would.” She spins on her heel. “There are spare blankets in the hall closet.”

“Noted.”

Snow crosses her arms and eyes us both with renewed interest. “So where exactly are you two from?” Her gaze flicks between Aurora’s long dress and cloak and my scorched leather boots. “Because you look like you walked out of a Renaissance fair.”

Aurora’s mouth opens, then closes.

“And you could be part of a motorcycle gang with all that leather. Wait, are you? ‘Cause I can’t afford one myself, but I’d totally knock some off your rent for a ride.

Though you are a Dragon, right? I didn’t know any of those really existed anymore.

Do you have wings underneath your jacket?

I feel like that would be cramped. You probably don’t need a motorcycle when you can fly.

Oh shit, I’d take a ride like that too. But like, would you hold me in your clawed feet—if you have clawed feet—or I could ride on your back?

Oh, there’s the thing where your skin is too hot though, right?

But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a motorcycle either. You could be into both.”

Snow’s quick barrage of words hammers into my head with little order or sense. My brows furrow deeply, an attempt to protect my brain.

“No.” The word comes out flat. It’s a no to everything she just said. “And we’re...not from here.” There is an underlying warning in my tone. Don’t dig.

Snow studies us a second longer, then shrugs. “It’s not like I’m proud of where I’m from either.” She yanks open the fridge and grabs a half-empty bottle of pink wine, then opens it and drinks from it directly. “You got cash, right?”

I pull a stack of folded bills from my inner pocket and hand them over. “Two weeks in advance.”

Snow whistles. “Fae’s tits, that slaps.” She recaps the bottle and takes the money. “Alright then, you’re good.”

A black blur streaks across the apartment and launches itself directly at Snow’s chest.

“What the?—?!”

The bottle of rosé slips from her hand and rolls across the floor, while a cat digs in with its claws, yowling with outrage.

Snow tries to pry him off, and I step back as fur and fury erupt around her head. I clench my fists to keep from grabbing the animal. I have to shove down my urge to intervene. I don’t want to burn the creature.

Aurora rushes to help, which leads to more of a struggle.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let go. Good kitty,” she attempts to coo, but the cat is having none of it.

That is not a good kitty.

At last, the cat launches off poor Snow, landing on the coffee table with a disdainful mrrreow.

Its fur sticks out at odd angles, as if electrocuted or bathed against its will. Maybe both. Hackles up, it hisses at all of us before darting under the couch.

“Lucifer! You absolute asshole,” Snow yells, arms flailing. “You ruined my shirt.”

The black band tee she changed into after her shift is now ripped in several places, though I have to say it looks rather deliberate and matches her torn black jeans.

Snow stalks over to the mirror hanging in the hallway to investigate the damage. Red welts have risen along her skin, and there are a few scratches mark her cheek.

“I swear I’m going to kill that cat,” she screeches.

Aurora kneels down to peer under the couch. “I don’t think your cat is going to come out.”

Snow’s nostrils flare as she whips around, stabbing an accusatory finger in the direction of the feline's hiding place. “ That is not my cat. That little monster terrorized me and my former roommate for months, uninvited. He kept breaking in here to piss in her boots and attack me at random. Last I knew, the little demon had gotten himself trapped in the Midnight Realm, and I hadn’t seen claw nor fang of this little fucker for six blissful months.” She smooths her hair in an attempt to compose herself.

“But I guess the little guy still has a hard-on for this apartment.”

“Lovely,” I say flatly. “You’re saying our new accommodations come with the cat.”

“‘Fraid so, big fella,” Snow says, patting my leather clad shoulder. “Whoa, you really do run on the warm side, don’tcha, hot boy?”

Aurora climbs to her feet and mouths hot boy at me, her lips twitching with barely suppressed amusement.

Apparently, Rap’s nickname for me is going to stick.

No one in the Realm of Roses even dares bring their gaze up to meet mine. Now I’m getting pats on the shoulder, inappropriate nicknames, and new furry roommates. All in barely acceptable living conditions for a princess.

A wave of exasperation washes over me, and I suppress a sigh.

Aurora’s eyes sparkle with amusement in response.

“You,” Snow says, nodding at Aurora, “are officially one of us now. Meet me outside Poison Apple at eleven a.m. We’re goth-glamming your ass before your first shift. You need combat boots and a choker, stat.”

“It’s already three a.m.,” Aurora points out, voice soft with suppressed laughter.

“Exactly. Sleep while you can.” Snow picks the wine bottle back up then makes her way to the door, throwing a middle finger toward the couch where the furry monstrosity still hides.

“Welcome to the club, new friends.”

I pretend not to notice the fabric of Aurora’s dress sliding down her body in the bedroom as I peel off my jacket, letting my bare chest and shoulders breathe.

I’ve seen Aura naked thousands of times, and in far more compromising positions, but something about the new environment makes everything feel more intimate. New.

Aura dons a silk sleep dress she brought in her pack, and we turn out the lights.

The couch is a lump beneath me. My shoulders are too wide for it, my body already overheating the cheap fabric. Thankfully, it’s fae made materials, otherwise I’d set it aflame.

Aura’s bedroom door remains open.

Of course it does.

I wait for the familiar rhythmic, grinding sound of her snores. A habit I've grown oddly accustomed to over the years. Though how such a small woman produces those sounds...

But she’s not asleep. I can hear her shifting. The bedsprings creak. After a while, the window clicks as she slides it open. The hush of traffic, so far below, creeps in like a new kind of lullaby.

Then her voice cuts through the quiet.

“You hate this place, don’t you?”

I don’t answer at first. Not because I don’t have words, but because I have too many.

“I guess I have a hard time believing you find this...place,” I try to choose my words carefully, “perfect.”

“Okay, so it’s not a castle and it’s got a funny smell. But it’s exactly where I want to be. Perfect is overrated.”

Just when I think I know Aurora inside and out, she surprises me.

“I don’t hate this place.” I sit up, elbows on my knees. "I hate that you ran away in the middle of the night with no plan. No allies. No understanding of this world. You act like you’ve just made some grand choice, but it’s a child’s rebellion.”

Her lips part in the low light, her golden skin flushing with rising heat.

“That’s what you think?” she breathes. “You think I’m being childish because I finally wanted something that wasn’t handed to me? Because I no longer want to be locked in a cage? Because I want to be more than my curse?”

“I think you’re gambling with your safety just to prove a point.” I stand slowly, unable to remain on the couch.

She surges to her feet, stepping over the creaking threshold of her room and into my space. Her sweet scent envelops me, washing out the strange, moldy vanilla mixture of the room. We’re inches apart. My heat stirs the air between us. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t step back.