Daughter of None

5

Lex

I began hastily dabbing concealer beneath my eyes and smoothing foundation over my skin as Cas strolled into the bathroom like he owned the place. Which, to be fair, he often acted like he did.

“You’re early,” I said flatly, not even pretending to be surprised.

“I had a feeling you’d stand me up. I’m just making sure you keep your promise.” He met my eyes in the mirror with a maddening smirk.

“I’m getting ready. Leave me be.”

“I’ll make you a drink,” he purred, already vanishing toward the kitchen like some domestic panther.

I heard him opening cabinets, rummaging through my kitchen like he’d been trained in the art of casual trespassing. Meanwhile, I focused on finishing my makeup—slightly darker than my usual, with just enough smoky threat to survive under club lighting. The eyeliner was borderline villainous. I approved.

I flat-ironed waves into my hair until they looked intentionally wild and added enough hairspray to flout several fire codes. Then, I stepped into my go-to black skinny jeans, black pumps, and a loose white V-neck camisole. The look was effortlessly cool. Chic. Undeniably safe.

I took one last look in the mirror, struck a little pose, and—shockingly—allowed myself to admire the result.

Perfume. Wrists. Collarbone. Done.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Cas was sprawled on my loveseat like a magazine ad—glass in hand, legs crossed, shirt crisp, confidence unbearable. He turned to look at me.

And frowned.

“No.”

I blinked. “No?”

“Wear the dress.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re underdressed for where we’re going.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So, not a bowling alley, then?”

He didn’t answer. Just handed me the drink with that patient, smug expression that said he knew I’d cave. Because I always did.

Fine. Whatever.

I downed the drink like a shot—cranberry, lime, vodka, and regret—and shoved the empty glass into his chest on my way back to my bedroom.

---

I hated this dress.

Which was unfortunate, because it was objectively stunning.

Classic black. Double straps. A neckline that plunged with malicious intent. The empire waist cinched just beneath my ribs and the skirt hugged my hips like we were dating. It fell just past my knees in a polite nod to modesty—as if the rest of the dress wasn’t already making introductions.

The back dipped low, the straps trailing along my spine like a whispered secret. It was the kind of dress that didn’t just ask for attention—it demanded a sonnet.

It also made me feel like I’d shown up to a final exam I hadn’t studied for.

I zipped it up with an audible sigh, threw on a leather jacket like a bulletproof vest, and stepped into my black heels with the grace of a woman heading to both war and dinner.

When I reemerged, Cas was slipping on his suit jacket, eyes lifting the moment he saw me. He gave me that look. The one that made breathing optional.

He lifted a finger and twirled it in a slow circle.

“Turn.”

I rolled my eyes but complied, slipping off the jacket like it was stage direction. I gave him the full 360° and even ran a hand through my hair for flair. When I faced him again, he looked… unwell.

Good.

He licked his lips. Inhaled sharply. “You’re going to bring the world to its knees looking like that.”

I tilted my chin, nodded once in regal acknowledgment, and breezed past him toward the door.

As I passed, I heard him inhale again.

Like he was memorizing me.

---

We descended the stairs and stepped out into the night where a sleek black car waited, engine purring with importance. Cas opened the door with a flourish and thanked the driver. I slid in like I belonged in cars like this.

Spoiler: I didn’t.

As we merged into traffic, I glanced at him. “So I take it we’re not visiting your usual hunting grounds tonight.”

He grinned. “No. I thought we could use a change.”

He said it like we were switching toothpaste brands, not traipsing off to who-knows-what mysterious corner of the city.

Eventually, we pulled into a district I didn’t recognize. It had that “intentionally left behind” vibe—buildings that refused to be modernized, sidewalks that had history. The kind of place where secrets liked to linger.

Ahead, a velvet rope held back a crowd of club-goers. Women in barely-there dresses. Men with haircuts that cost more than my rent.

Cas stepped out smoothly and thanked the driver again, because apparently he was the gentleman and the danger. I followed, watching him approach the massive bouncers like he did it daily.

“Castiel,” he said. “I’m on the list.”

The bouncers were… unreasonably large. Like, “genetically modified to guard the underworld” large. One of them eyed me.

“Who’s she?”

Cas slid his hand onto my lower back. “She’s with me.”

“Name?”

Cas tensed. A rare thing.

I smiled sweetly and stepped forward. “Hi. I’m Lex. I’m not sure I’m on the list.”

“Legal name,” the second bouncer clarified, all gravel and menace.

Oh. That kind of list.

“Alexandra,” I said with the practiced grace of someone pretending not to be judged by two refrigerators in tuxedos.

A beat passed. They didn’t even glance down. Just exchanged a look and lifted the velvet rope.

Behind us, the line groaned in protest.

Neon blue light swallowed us whole as we stepped inside. The music pulsed off-rhythm like a heartbeat with something to prove. The air smelled like smoke, perfume, and secrets.

Cas’s hand stayed anchored at my back, guiding me forward.

I leaned toward him. “So… how did you actually find this place?”

He shrugged, lips curving. “Met a woman at one of my usual spots. She said it would change everything.”

“Of course she did,” I muttered.

He leaned closer, voice brushing against my ear. “She got me on the list.”

I laughed. Nervously.

Something about this place was different.

Very different.