Page 19 of Sleepless Beauties

… Is it though?

I give him another look from the corner of my eye and I note his attention gliding down my frame, along my throat, my breasts, my hips, my long legs…

No! Eye fucking is not flirting, Kira!

… Isn’t it though?

“I’ll inform Rival,” Someone with more brain cells than my infatuated mind says.

I turn and spot Louis making his way to the door. Still shirtless and animalistic, but obviously uncaring of what anyone in the outside world might think of him.

He doesn’t say any more before he closes the door and silence settles in with his absence.

What just happened?

“Rival?” I ask.

Prey grabs his shirt from the floor and pulls it over his messy dark hair. “We’re all set. We leave tonight for Crimson City.”

My heart freefalls.

“T—tonight? You want me to go with you to Crimson City tonight?”

Vuitton’s attention perks up and he looks away from his post at the window. He seems to check on me fully just by noting the shaking sound of my voice.

“You should rest,” he says with that soul touching rumble in his tone.

“I cant!” I nearly shriek. “I’m not ready! I barely know the names of the council by memory. I have no idea what all of them look like. How am I supposed to address anyone?”

“You shouldn’t.” Prey shrugs flippantly. “Don’t address anyone. Give vague answers. Just do the bare minimum to get by. You do not want to make any friends here. We only need you for a little while. A month at the most.”

“A month!?” My hand trembles, and I have to fist my fingers into my palm to stop myself from lashing out at him. “A month is not a little while.”

“A month is barely a blip of time at all. Someday, when you’re old and failing, you’ll come to understand that.” His cold blue eyes cut into me.

Why is he always like this?

He’s charming and cruel all at the same time. Who turned this beautiful man into something so dead inside?

“Come on,” Vuitton opens my bedroom door for me and I’ve never felt so used in all my life.

I pause and look at the two men I’m trusting with my life. And for what?

To find Kyra’s killer. To look her rapist and murderer dead in his eyes and take his life from him, just like he did to her.

My pulse speeds up. I keep pacing, I have to keep focused. My goal is so similar to theirs, but I don’t want to just investigate.

I want to avenge.

And I will.

* * *

An hour seeps away, and still I stare at the flat white ceiling of my bedroom. The sun blazes warm light into my chilly apartment.

I can’t sleep.

Instead I go over my facts: