Page 31 of Darkest Kiss

She looks good in our clothes, Beast says. Let’s keep her that way.

My imaginary friend has a serious hard-on for this girl. He’s not the only one.

Noemi stops at the edge of the kitchen like she isn't sure she's allowed in it. She carefully takes in the scene, looking everywhere but at me.

"You're up," I say, trying to sound conversational. Like I’m a friend instead of a fiendish pit viper who’s been charmed by her presence. "How's the stomach?"

"Functional." Her voice is weak. She wraps her arms around herself, licking her lips, still not meeting my gaze. "Um. About earlier?"

I set the plate down and beckon for her to come eat. “Which part?”

She glares at me. A little part of me rejoices because at least she’s looking at me rather than everywhere else.

"I rubbed myself on a stranger and demanded he help me get off. Several times." She tells the floor this, her cheeks going red. "I'd like to formally pretend that didn't happen."

"You were drugged out of your skull. The guys who dosed you had you so fucked up that they obviously didn’t expect you to live. So don’t feel the need to explain." I slide the toast, broth, and ginger ale toward an empty stool. "Eat."

She doesn't move. Without thinking, I step around the counter. I reach to push her hair off her face, an instinct I can't seem to kill. She flinches back hard enough to stumble.

My hand drops, my pulse pounds as I study her face. She looks terrified of me. “Shit. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Noemi’s eyes flash. "You don't get to do that. We don’t know each other. You bought me. At an auction. With money."

It takes a staggering amount of effort not to react. "I know how I got you, Noemi."

"Got me." Her laugh is cruel. "Listen to yourself. You think paying for a person means you own her?"

"No." I lean back against the counter, because looming over her won't help anything. "I think it means I got to you before someone worse did. That's the whole of what it bought me. Nothing else."

"Then I can leave?"

I pin her in place with my stare. "No."

"There it is." She flails her hand. "You can't have it both ways. Either I'm free, or I'm yours. I can’t be both."

She's right, which is the irritating thing about her. She's quick. The Gloss didn't dull her intelligence.

“Noemi, don’t you want to know how I found you at the auction?”

She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing. “I didn’t know you were looking for me. I don’t know you at all.”

I glance at the cooling food I’ve made for her. She needs to eat. Her body has been through the wringer in the last week.

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know if you’ll have something to eat. Toast, broth, ginger ale… Or something else, if you want?”

Noemi drops a hand to her stomach, her lips pouting. I watch her quick mind at work, doing the math. It’s been a long time since she’s eaten anything.

“Fine.” She drops into a seat at the counter and drags the toast in front of her. She waits a moment, then snags the unopened can of soda, popping the top. “Make this make sense, Rian.”

"Where do I even start?”

She takes an experimental sip of the ginger ale. “The beginning?”

“Four months ago, I was assigned to watch the office above your bookstore.”

“Assigned?” she cuts in. “Who assigned you?”

“Ransom King. The head of the King family.”