Multiple times. I was tired, achy, and still convinced I was crazy. But in the end, I never got farther than Lucen’s kitchen. I remembered the expression in his eyes when I’d told him I trusted him, and I slunk back into the living room. Intense, that was the only way to describe it. His comment earlier in the day—that trusting him was the most erotic thing a human ever did to him—had been made lightly, one of his many quips. But the way he’d looked at me was anything but light. His eyes had stripped me down to my soul. In this case, trust wasn’t about baring a little skin. It was about baring everything. That was a scary idea. For most of the time I’d known him, I barely dared call Lucen a friend, though he was in truth. Just a dangerous, nonhuman friend. With a shiver, I pushed the soft, linen fabric of his drapes aside and gazed out onto the street. Lucen’s apartment was over his bar, The Lair, and his bar was located on prime real estate in Boston’s Shadowtown neighborhood.
What do You think about Beautiful Misery (Miss Misery)?
