Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 187

Chapter 187 Lisa: Fae Blessed

LISA

Eternity is a bitch.

That's the conclusion I've come to, after being locked in this room.

Living forever, with nothing ever changing? That's enough to drive anyone crazy. No wonder that asshole vampire is the way he is.

Sometimes, I think I've been awake for days; other times, I think I've been asleep for longer. My meals don't seem to come at any consistent time, and Marisol's temper fluctuates every time I see her.

Today, she's cold, nearly throwing the tray in my direction.

Cold soup splatters. The strawberries look wilted. Still, no utensils to make my life easier.

At this point, I'm used to the filth of living here, and even the disgrace of utilizing a waste bucket.

Still, compared to before…

It's pretty good.

That crazy vampire hasn't returned, and I'm never going to complain about his absence.

It's as if Marisol can read my mind, because she suddenly says, sounding childish and petulant, "Master's been searching for a friend for you."

A wilted chunk of strawberry drops from my fingers, gathering dirt as it rolls across the stone floor. "A friend?"

My heart rate increases drastically as I think of Ava.

"A unicorn," she sneers.

Unicorn?

manacles that have my wrists rubbed raw and bleeding, with no

very human side of me just

"A real unicorn?"

in a bratty way, and a part of me wonders if that's how

I miss them.

not to think about them

Fae-blessed human. Like yourself." She points to

ever offered, and I straighten, my food forgotten in my hunger for information.

before clomping her way over and grabbing my left breast, pulling it up and poking beneath it with one elegantly

shudders in rejection at her touch. My skin crawls,

amusement, her green eyes sharp as they take

first time. Then she

glint in her eye and a devious curve to her lips. She's harder, harsher, and

don't like this

Her skin is clear and unblemished, though still sickly, with that odd

it a reaction to his absence? To

too coy to be friendly. Her head tilts at an unnatural angle, her eyes not blinking

the birthmark I've always had—an irregularly shaped patch of skin that's almost golden against

quirk of genetics, something that made me unique. My mother used to joke that an angel

of the room. "You

voice drips with a strange mix of envy and derision that makes

bit of privacy it allows me. The sudden movement makes the chains rattle. "What blessing? What does my birthmark have to do with

cold and flat as glass. "Are you finished

I glance down at the sad little meal congealing on the tray. My stomach

question. What do you mean, blessing? What does this—" I gesture to the underside of my breast, "—have to do with

lips thin. She looks like she's debating with herself, some internal struggle playing out behind those eerie

away, no longer looking at

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