LUCY
Shame on you.
I say it to myself, the words coming out as a jagged whisper, as I slowly rest my back against the wall. I remain there for a long moment, trying to catch my breath before my senses spiral even further.
Shame on you, Lucy Drakonia.
I shake my head slowly, both hands going up to my hair, ruffling it, flattening it, then tugging at the strands in frustration. My skin still feels too tight. My blood still sings from a contact I never should have allowed.
"Shame on you!" I cuss out loud, the sound echoing through the narrow stairwell, when I realize my body still tingles for him, still reaches for him.
The stranger. Tavric.
I stamp my feet angrily against the ground and hurry down the stairs, wishing—yet not wishing—that he is still outside.
Perhaps he is just as disoriented as I am. Maybe he is leaning against the wall somewhere, breathing hard and trying to remember his own name.
But when I step out into the night, there is nothing.
Only darkness. Only the biting wind.
I wrap my arms around myself, eyes darting around the dimly lit street. There is no one. No one, at least, who resembles the menace that kissed me and vanished like some hallucination.
Is it a dare?
Did someone dare him to kiss me?
My mind immediately spins ridiculous theories before I catch myself.
What am I even doing? He isn't from around here. He doesn't go to the college either.
If he did, I would know. A man with that kind of face and body would have admirers hanging from his shoulders.
How dare he kiss me and disappear?
Do I look like some easy fangirl? Some desperate woman?
With every question, my anger grows until it becomes a living thing inside me. I kick the door, furious most of all with myself.
Why did I kiss him back?
Why did I lean into him like he was the very air I needed to breathe?
I cuss again when those traitorous tingles return low in my belly as the memory resurfaces. Gods. Help me.
His lips. The scent of cedar and rain. The sound he made when I pulled his hair.
No.
No.
That memory can go straight to hell.
Just like the man himself, who had disappeared before I could even learn who he was.
"Fuck you!" I scream into the night.
The empty street offers no answer.
I wait, feeling foolish, before scoffing and retreating back into the hallway.
My gaze falls on the padlock, and I cuss all over again.
The metal is really broken. Snapped like a twig.
The hell.
It confirms what I already sensed. Tavric is like my kind. He possesses that raw strength that only appears when a wolf is triggered.
Did the kiss trigger him?
And why would it even trigger him?
Giving up on the ruined padlock, I slide the heavy bolt into place and pray I don't get murdered in the middle of the night.
I start climbing the stairs again, but my feet feel strangely heavy. I pause halfway up, the air still thick with the ghost of him.
The whole thing feels like a fever dream. Except my lips still tingle. Except my heart still won't calm down.
Steeling myself against his intoxicating scent, I climb the remaining stairs and unlock my apartment, the silence of the rooms hitting me like a physical blow.
I shut the door and make sure every bolt is in place, triple-checking the locks. Tavric isn't a good piece on the board. He is a wild card, a danger. I already don't like him.
Sighing, I flick on the light. The yellow glow doesn't make the place feel any warmer. I drop my bag on the couch and dump myself onto the cushions in the same vein.
I should take a bath; a very long bath to wash him off my skin. I should eat a real dinner. But I'm just too tired, my muscles too lax from the sudden drop in adrenaline.
I lie straight on the couch, staring into space, until my eyes furrow as they catch sight of the packaged gift sitting on the coffee table.
Well, look at that. I actually forgot.
Today is my birthday.
In the spirit of loving myself more every day—of forcing myself to push through the gray fog of this new life—I had ordered some beauty products online a few days ago.
I had received the package during my shift at noon, hurried home to drop it off, and then returned to work, leaving the unboxing as a treat for when I returned.
Sighing, I force myself to my feet. My joints feel stiff as I go to the fridge and take out a little bento cake from the freezer.
I had bought it from the café downstairs, somehow managing to hide it from Harlen and Vera.
I wanted to mark this first year away from home alone.
I sit on the floor, settling onto the plush rug. I slowly tear the tape off the package, but the excitement I expected isn't there.
It just feels like more things to fill a void that has no bottom.
I push the box aside and open the clear packaging of the cake. The frosting is slightly smudged.
Like me.
I stare at it for a long time.
No candles. No presents from Mother.
No Father pretending not to smile while secretly spoiling me.
No ridiculous singing from the servants.
No flowers. No balloons.
"Happy 18th birthday, Lucy…" I whisper softly, resting my head against the edge of the coffee table.
The sound of my own voice in the empty room is the final straw.
A single sob breaks through.Then another. And another.
And suddenly I am crying so hard I can barely breathe.
Ugly tears. Humiliating tears.
I curl into myself on the rug, clutching the little cake to my chest like a fool.
"I miss home…" I choke out.
I miss being someone's daughter. I miss being loved.
I miss being Lucy Drakonia.
Because sometimes, in this little apartment, in this strange city, with no one to celebrate me and nobody to hold me—
I feel like she died.
And I am just the poor thing left behind.