Resurrected King - Kaye Blue Page 0,2

would do the smart thing and forget tonight ever happened.

And forget about him completely.

Mikhail

I had been careless.

And she was the reason.

I had told myself not to go back, had even meant not to, but I had grown weak.

And much to my shock, I found myself on the wrong end of a gun.

One that wasn’t loaded and had the safety on, something that both impressed and angered me in equal measure.

Intrigued me, too, at this new side of her.

I’d watched her countless times before, talking with her friends, customers. Watched her when she was alone, when no one was watching, when the sadness that she always hid managed to peek through.

But I’d never seen this unexpected part of her, one smart enough to notice me and bold and stupid enough to confront me.

Her coming into that alley had been foolish beyond words, but selfishly, it made me happy.

Because I’d gotten close to her, had gotten to talk to her.

Hear her voice, see the emotion play across her face. See the curves that were so often hidden behind her apron.

It was like breath, like life.

Something I no longer participated in.

As I walked away from the bakery, away from the things I hadn’t thought about in years, I again tried to understand Adora and what she did to me.

I walked in the shadows, there but not, so much a ghost that it had become my name.

She was the opposite.

Maybe it was as simple as that.

One look at her beautiful eyes, her smile that seem to light the world, and maybe it reminded me that everything wasn’t as bleak as I thought it was.

Yes, that was it.

Adora reminded me that there were things outside of death, things outside of the Brotherhood.

Reminded me that there were people who truly lived rather than simply existing as I did.

No matter, I reminded myself.

I wasn’t one of them.

Not anymore.

Two

Adora

“Get out of the kitchen.”

A few days after that alley encounter, Erin, my best friend and the bride whose wedding I was celebrating, creeped up beside me and grabbed my hand.

I looked at her and then looked back at the cake that sat on the quartz-topped kitchen island.

“And stop scowling at my cake,” she said, giggling.

I smiled despite myself, but the expression dropped when I looked at the cake again.

“It’s just…”

The cake was crooked and the icing looked dry, but I decided to keep that to myself.

At least until Erin said, “I know the icing is a little dry, and you definitely wouldn’t have stacked those tiers like that.”

I glanced over at her, laughed, and she did the same, her expression lighting her from inside out.

Or maybe it was just the happiness.

“You look amazing, you know that?” I said.

“Thank you,” she replied, smiling.

Erin wasn’t one to fish for compliments, but in this case, I was happy give them. More than.

She was truly stunning.

Her braids were pulled back in an elegant bun, and the rose-colored satin sheath dress she wore was perfect against her skin.

The fact that she was, as far as I could tell, deliriously happy definitely helped.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

She nodded toward me.

I just barely managed to bite back a groan, shifting in my lavender linen pantsuit.

I was yoga pants and T-shirts all the way.

In fact, the only thing with flair in my wardrobe was my selection of aprons. So I felt incredibly uncomfortable in the elegant linen Erin had picked for me, to say nothing of the low-heeled pumps I wore, which were definitely not the work clogs I preferred.

“You know,” I said, trying to turn my thoughts from my appearance—knowing nothing could come from that—and back to the matter at hand, “I would have made a cake for you. I would have been honored to.”

Erin smiled.

“I know you would have, and I know it would have been the best cake ever. But you’re not here to work. You came to celebrate,” she said. “And I know if you had made the cake, you’d use it as an excuse to hide in the kitchen.”

She pulled me toward the kitchen door.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, smiling.

What could I say? I was totally busted.

Even on my best days, I preferred the solitude and certainty of a few close friends and my kitchen to a crowd.

But Erin, like she always did, had thrown me directly into the fire.

Making it through dinner with new people was always tough for me, but this was nearing impossible.

I looked out over the expanse of the living area, the penthouse that Erin and her husband