Page 41 of Twisted Devotion

“Oh, I know.” I chuckle. “What are you and Nik up to these days? Things still pretty calm with everyone after the battle?”

She nods. “For the most part. Some fae are still angry we kept a facility, but that was the deal we made with Jackson to get the information we needed. We did what we had to do to protect our people. We’ll always do that.”

I offer her a smile. “You’re a great leader, Sky. They know that, some of them are just struggling with loss and uncertainty. It’s understandable, and it won’t last forever.”

She returns the smile. “Thanks. Now get your ass home and feed.Tonight. Don’t make me drag you to a feeding unit. Your job may be to take care of Jackson—to keep him alive—but you need to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, too. Otherwise, you’ll be in no position to do your job.”

I nod in agreement. “I will. I promise. I’ll call on my way home.”

“Good.” She opens the driver’s side door and gets in. “I’ll see you soon.”

There is a middle-aged woman waiting for me in the small sitting room off the main entry when I get back to the house. I did what I promised and called Gloria so there would be a feeder here when I arrived.

Skipping the pleasantries—which I usually put forth for the benefit of keeping the feeding experience positive for the human—I sit next to the feeder. I smile as I reach for her wrist and close my eyes, focusing my energy on absorbing hers. It’s soft and pliable, like fresh pink bubblegum, and I pull on it, easily taking it from her. She gives it freely, sighing as she relaxes into the chair.

Energy crackles through my veins as I continue to feed, wanting to make sure I’m good for a while before needing to repeat this process. Feeding has never been something I’ve enjoyed about being fae. It’s simply the nature of this existence. Seth was the one who’d taught me how to do it safely, to ensure I fed enough but not too much.

My grip tightens on her wrist as I inch closer to the limit I’m always careful to stop before reaching.

I open my eyes, blinking a few times as my vision improves noticeably. I can see the stitching in the fabric of the drapes and the texture in the wood of the floors. Sounds filter through the house from the upper level. Jackson is watching television in his room. The security team is in their office, chatting about their weekend plans while watching the monitors. It’s amazing how much my abilities strengthen so soon after feeding. My head is clear, as if I woke up from a good night’s sleep, and my veins are singing with energy. For me, oftentimes feeding has the same result as drinking a strong cup of coffee in the morning. The level of alertness is at its highest right after a feed, so at this point, I could take on the world. Or, at least, I feel like I could.

“Did you get enough?” the feeder asks in a tired voice, her eyelids drooping like she’s struggling to keep them open.

I smile, nodding. “Thank you. I’ll have someone take you home.”

Once the feeder has left, I climb the stairs and slip into my room, changing into light gray sweatpants and a training bra. I glance at the bed, but I’m too wired to consider trying to sleep right now.

The house has gone quiet. After pacing my room for a few minutes, I wander back downstairs and find myself in the kitchen. I open the fridge and start pulling out ingredients to make . . .cupcakes. It’s been a while, but I think I remember the recipe. The thought to search it online passes over me, but I want a challenge.

As if the rest of my life isn’t challenging enough.

It’ll be a good distraction from, well, everything.

When we lived together, Kyle and I used to bake treats every weekend. There were a few staples—like vanilla cupcakes and chocolate chip cookies—but we also threw new things into the mix every now and then.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Kyle since Allison and I ran into him this morning. It was great to see him doing so well, but it brought up a lot of things from my past that I’d rather have kept there. The fear, the loneliness, the unknown. It’s taken a lot for me to move past that, and part of me is concerned that having Kyle back in my life will make those feelings rush to the surface. I can’t have that. I need to stay focused on my job—on finishing it and getting out of this place.

I search the cupboards for the rest of the items to make the cupcakes and get to work, mixing the dry ingredients in one bowl and the wet in another. Then, I combine them and pour them into a muffin tray to go into the oven.

It’s midnight when the cupcakes come out, and the kitchen smells of sugar and vanilla. I toss the ingredients into the standing mixer to make the icing while the cupcakes cool on the counter, and then I go digging through the rest of the cupboards to find some sprinkles to decorate.

I stick my finger in the bowl of icing once everything is combined and scoop out a good amount, shoving it into my mouth and closing my eyes to savor the sweetness.

“What on earth are you doing?”

My eyes snap open to find Jackson leaning in the doorway. I pull my finger out of my mouth and shrug. “Making cupcakes.”

His eyes dance around the room before landing on me as he walks into the room and stops at the island where I’m working. “It’s after midnight,” he tells me, as if I can’t read the digital clock on the stove.

“Yeah,” I reply, “and I wanted to make cupcakes.” I touch the top of one to check the temperature. They’re still too hot to ice.

Maybe I should stick them in the freezer for a few minutes.

“Okay,” he says curiously. “Is there a reason?”

I press my lips together, debating whether or not to tell him. He already knows about my past . . .

“I saw my foster brother today,” I say. “Kyle’s working downtown at a café to pay for grad school.”

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