Daughter of None

9.

Lex

I awoke to the blinding morning sun as if the heavens themselves were punishing me for last night's Olympic-level extracurriculars. My body ached in new, deeply suspicious places, and my brain was playing a heavy metal solo on the inside of my skull. Groaning, I shielded my eyes with my forearm and reached out for salvation in the form of water.

Instead, my hand landed on… skin. Warm. Solid. Male.

Oh God.

Like a traumatic newsreel, the previous night's events came back in high-def, surround sound, and with optional director’s commentary.

There he was: Brian. Sleeping like a Greek god who just conquered Rome, one tan leg thrown dramatically over the blanket like this was his apartment now. The comforter barely covered his… dignity.

I slid out of bed like a guilt-ridden ninja and sprint-crawled to the kitchen in last night's dress and today's regrets.

Cas was already there. Because of course he was.

"I had no idea you were such a wildcat, darling," he grinned, casually leaning against my counter like he hadn’t been secretly squatting in my guest room like a nosy house elf.

"What are you talking about?" I croaked, taking the glass of water he offered like it was holy.

He took a sip of his coffee like he was a judge on a reality show. "I had the car bring Kelsi and me to your place. I wasn't going to let some strange man mount you like a stallion without at least a basic security presence."

I choked. "You what?!"

Cas was unbothered. "Oh yes. Kelsi and I followed you in like two horny guardian angels. We didn’t interrupt—what are we, savages? But we did hear everything." He sipped. “And I mean everything.”

My soul left my body. My skin turned inside out. “Cas—”

“No need to thank me, love. But just so you know, next time you yell 'God, yes!' that loudly, it’s polite to offer your neighbors muffins the next morning."

Just then, Kelsi emerged from the guest room wearing one of my oversized T-shirts and the kind of look that said I may be pretty, but I’m processing.

"Good morning," she offered, voice all sugar and awkward.

"Morning," I muttered, trying not to cry into my coffee.

Then Brian—half-man, half-s*x-omen—strode into the kitchen like he was the breakfast.

"Hello, Goddess," he said with a sleepy smirk.

I gave him a tight nod and handed him coffee like a barista on autopilot. We stood there in a silence so thick it could've been carved and served with a side of bacon.

Naturally, Cas ruined it.

"You know, Brian, next time—she loves having her hair pulled." He winked with the smugness of someone who didn't have to live with the consequences of their own mouth.

Brian looked at me with one eyebrow raised and a smirk that could ruin careers.

I blinked. "Like I said... we're old friends."

Kelsi shot me a look that could curdle milk.

Mission Status: Dignity—DECEASED.

"I really should go into the office today," I announced, already speed-walking toward my bedroom like it was a bunker.

I dressed in record time and pretended the aviators made me mysterious, not hungover. On my way out, I paused. There it was. The shattered glass from last night—except… I didn’t remember knocking it over.

I convinced myself Brian’s enthusiasm must've caused a minor natural disaster and mentally filed it under “Clean Later, Cry Never.”

“Need a ride?” I asked, mostly out of politeness and residual lust.

Brian smirked. “Nah. I’ll leave you my number.”

We exchanged contacts like two people who definitely weren’t thinking about round two.

Cas helped Kelsi into her car, promising dinner like a gentleman who hadn’t just narrated my s*x life in 4K. Then we strolled down the street, him looking like a Bond villain, me looking like Bond’s secretary on the verge of an HR complaint.

“Will you call her?” I asked.

“She’s nice enough.” He shrugged. “Will you call him?”

I sighed. “The woman he met last night isn’t who I am.”

Cas nodded, because for once, he didn’t have something snarky to say. We reached the library, and I climbed the steps to my desk, praying for peace and emotional amnesia.

Instead, I found a book. A dark red tome with gold leaf scrolling and a vague sense of menace. It looked ancient and important—and worse, familiar. I opened it. Greek mythology… but twisted. There were names I’d never seen before. Events no textbook had ever told me.

I shelved it in the Greek section and turned to fetch twine.

When I returned, it was back on my desk. Open. Page two. Waiting.

“Very funny, Cas!” I shouted into the void.

No response. Because of course he was gone now that the creepy stuff started.

I sat down to work but was soon spiraling into a vision. Or a memory. Or… something worse.

I saw him. The stranger from the club. No longer smiling. No longer sexy. He was in agony—shackled, glowing veins, screaming into darkness. I felt it. Every ounce of it. As though my soul was tethered to his pain. The chanting grew louder—

Find him.

Find him.

Find him.

The voice crescendoed as golden blood leaked from his nose and my entire being fractured with a scream—

FIND HIM.

I gasped, back at my desk, drenched in sweat. My hand hit the desk—and found a smoldering handprint, glowing like it had just come from hell’s branding department.

"Are you alright, ma’am?"

I nearly karate-chopped the librarian into next Tuesday.

“I’m—uh—not feeling well. Bug, maybe.”

She gave me a grandma smile and vanished. I covered the print with leather, gathered my things, and fled like I’d committed a felony.

As I passed through the stacks, Professor Death Glare caught my eye. I didn’t slow. She could have my resignation letter later, written in sweat and singed by magical fire.

Because whatever just happened?

Was only the beginning.