Page 54 of The Breeding Cave
“Yes.”
“Eleven dollars, thirty-four cents.”
Damn, they hiked up their prices, didn’t they?
After swiping the beast’s black card, I stepped to the side and scrolled through my emails from these past few days. I rocked back and forth on my heels, playing with the end of my sweater to tug it over my thumb, which was burned.
I didn’t want anyone seeing the scars. Especially not Luciano.
I didn’t want his pity or his questions. But if he got me alone like he had in the elevator the other day, then it might be hard to dodge the questions about my skin.
Why is it burned? The heck if I know!
“Alana!” a new worker called.
My phone buzzed, but I shoved it into my pocket and headed to the pickup area. I grabbed the coffee from her with a grip a bit too strong because the cap popped off and the piping hot coffee spilled all over my hand, burning it.
“Shit!” I sneered out of instinct.
Except it didn’t hurt.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” the barista exclaimed. “I have such a hard time with these caps.” She grabbed a towel and placed it gently on my hand. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get burned!”
“It’s okay,” I whispered, brows furrowed together at how … much it didn’t hurt.
“I’ll make you a new one right away,” she said, shuffling to grab a new coffee cup.
Once she turned away, I slid the towel off my hand to see the burn already bubbling. Maybe I was used to the pain, or maybe something was happening to me. But why … why wasn’t it hurting at all?
Was my body getting used to this? How? My skin was literally bubbling!
“Here you go,” the barista said. “I’m so sorry again.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered, concealing my hand from her. How would I hide this one?
I grabbed both my drinks and headed for the door, staring down at the bubble on my hand. It had hurt, initially. It had to have, right? But maybe the pain from last night had conditioned me to not hurt anymore?
No, that couldn’t be it. That pain had just been in my nightmare.
Back against the door, I pushed it open. What was going on with?—
“Yeosin,” someone hummed from in front of me.
I snapped my gaze up and widened my eyes. “Alvin …”
What the hell is he doing here?!
Alvin grabbed the cups from me. “Yeosin, we need to talk.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
YEOSIN
“I really don’t have time,” I whispered, keeping my feet glued to the pavement.
A harsh wind whipped my hair into my face, but I refused to move from this spot. My hands were full, so I couldn’t push him away or else I’d spill these goddamn things on me again. But if he pulled, then I’d do what I had to do.
