Next time, they might not be just checking up on me.

2

Alexis

“What are you wearing?” Bria asked the next morning as she walked toward me between the rows of cars at the back of the magical government building. Although I now came here daily, I still preferred to park at a distance and take a slow, under-the-radar approach. I’d religiously avoided this place for most of my life, at my mother’s direction, and old habits died hard.

Bria’s platinum-blonde hair fell straight down to dust her shoulders. Her ripped T-shirt featuring some sort of big hair band from yesteryear fit in perfectly with her dog-collar necklace.

I rubbed my tired eyes, then swore at myself before licking the pad of my finger and wiping it under my left eye. I wasn’t used to wearing makeup, but when I went into the belly of the beast, it was a must. Too bad I constantly forgot I had it on. Some days I looked like a raccoon before someone politely told me to visit a mirror.

After doing a self-check of my smart, conservative, beige dress, something I hoped would keep me off the worst-dressed list in the tabloids this week for the first time in two months, I smoothed my not-quite-straightened hair. I’d gotten bored halfway through taming it earlier that morning. “What? I’m business casual.”

She came to a stop in front of me, cocked a hip, and gave me a flat stare. “What did Daisy have to say?”

Daisy had found her stride in fashion thanks to Kieran, who’d given her free rein to shop with his unbelievably deep pockets. I shrugged. “She’s a teenager. What does she know about dressing like a twenty-something career woman?”

Bria’s eyebrows slowly lifted.

I sighed. “Fine. She said I looked frumpy, and I needed to lead the fashion world with a unique sense of style rather than follow the herd of sheeple. Especially when that herd makes me look like an old maid.”

“And she is right on all counts.”

In frustration, I waved my hand up and down in front of her. “Why would I take your advice? You look crazy.”

“That’s because I am crazy. My style matches my personality. People know exactly who I am, and how few fucks I give. That works for me. You need to give in and realize that if you ever want to be spoken of favorably in those stupid gossip magazines that follow you and Kieran around, you need to find your own style. And you need to flaunt it with confidence. You looked better in your poor girl’s clothes than you do in that expensive clusterfuck you’re wearing. If you keep dressing like this”—she waved her hand in front of me—“you’ll be miserable because you’re trying to impress people who don’t want to be impressed.”

I slouched in defeat, because I didn’t want to bother finding my own style. I didn’t care about makeup and hair and clothes. Sure, I enjoyed shopping and dressing up to go out, but the last thing I wanted to do each morning was waste an hour primping. I said as much.

Bria rolled her eyes before jerking her head for us to get walking. “Then hire someone to do all that. The great thing about being shacked up with a Demigod—maybe the only great thing…” She gave me a look. Even though she’d admitted Kieran was a good guy and a great leader, she’d never quite forgiven me for falling in love with a Demigod. They were notoriously possessive, and so powerful they could be inescapable, something Valens had taken to an extreme with Kieran’s mother. “…is that now you can outsource. If being his lady means you have to look the part—and, unfortunately, it does, just like he needs to look the part of a Demigod—hire someone to take care of it. Drink your coffee and eat a croissant while someone picks out your clothes, does your hair, and paints your face. Make this new life work for you how you want. Make his bankroll your bitch. Honey, you deserve it.”

I waved it away. When you grew up assured you’d be poor your whole life, you kept wishes and daydreams to broad strokes. A bigger house, a dashing suitor, and water that stayed hot long enough for a shower. This seemed frivolous and wasteful, and even though I did like gifts and handouts, I didn’t like the idea of asking for help on such a superficial level.

The things we learned about ourselves…

We emerged from the rows of cars and stepped onto the walkway leading to the front entrance. Even from here, there was a stunning view of the sparkling ocean beyond the building.

“What the hell was Zorn doing creeping around the house last night?” I asked. Given that Bria was sexually involved with the stoic djinn, she was as likely to know as anyone. I certainly hadn’t thought to ask Zorn himself after the whole shadow-creature episode.

“Oh, that. He’d made a threat on your life to Daisy, without telling her when or where he would strike. Her job was to keep you safe. He was pleased with her response, though he’ll probably give you a lecture about being more aware of your surroundings. He shouldn’t have gotten that throw off.”

I rolled my eyes as we reached the large glass doors. “If I hadn’t known who he was, he wouldn’t have. I knew he was there. Friends don’t punch friends in the spirit box unless there’s a good reason. Like when a shadowy Demigod creature shows up on your front lawn.”

I pulled open one of the heavy glass doors and stepped aside so she could go through, then followed her. A large lobby spread out in front of us with a reception desk off to the left. The blue-skinned woman sitting there glanced up, then did a double take when her gaze landed on me. Several other people started staring, too, as they passed through the lobby.