Chapter Eighteen: A Visit

From what little Myra knew, Amara was the Queen Bee of the school—rich, popular, beautiful. The kind of girl who had people falling over themselves just to sit near her at lunch. So why was she suddenly interested in Lisa, of all people?

"You're really pretty, Lisa," Amara cooed, her voice honeyed and deliberate, as if savoring each syllable. She flashed a dazzling smile, her perfectly aligned teeth gleaming under the fluorescent hallway lights.

Lisa offered a tight, uncomfortable smile in return. The air between them was thick with something unspoken, something that made the hairs on Lisa’s arms rise. Yeah, this was weird.

"You're way prettier than that Myra girl," Amara added, her voice carrying just enough to ensure Myra, who stood by her locker, could hear. Lisa shifted on her feet, heat crawling up her neck. That was the first time anyone had ever said that to her. "I don’t get why everyone makes such a big deal about her."

Lisa swallowed hard. Neither did she.

All her life, Myra had been the favorite, the one people naturally gravitated toward. No matter where they went, Myra got the attention while Lisa faded into the background like an afterthought. Even here, at a school full of strangers, Myra had managed to steal the spotlight.

"Myra's my cousin," Lisa admitted, her voice barely above a whisper as she glanced at Amara.

Amara snickered. "You're related to that disaster?" She jabbed a manicured finger toward Myra, whose golden eyes flashed in their direction.

At that moment, Myra was locked in a heated argument with King—no surprise there. She stood stiffly, arms folded like a fortress, while he leaned lazily against the lockers, a smirk playing on his lips as if her anger was the most amusing thing he’d seen all day.

Lisa frowned. Disaster? Sure, Myra could be exasperating, but that was a little harsh.

"You're way cooler than her," Amara purred, her voice dripping with sickly-sweet charm.

Lisa hesitated. Was she?

Myra chose that exact moment to stride over, her boots clicking sharply against the polished floors, each step a warning. Her golden eyes were practically burning.

"Are they bothering you, Lisa?" Her voice was clipped, irritated. She was clearly ready to throw hands if necessary.

Lisa felt a flicker of irritation herself. Just like always, Myra assumed she needed saving, like she couldn’t handle herself.

Before Lisa could say anything, Amara sneered. "Oh, look, if it isn’t Her Royal Highness, Lady Thorn."

Myra’s lips curled into a smirk. "Wow, actual creativity. I’m impressed."

Lisa sighed. She knew that tone. Myra was seconds away from making a scene.

Amara folded her arms, nails tapping rhythmically against her elbow. "Aren’t you gonna leave, idiot?"

Myra let out a low growl.

"What are you gonna do? Bark at me?" Amara taunted, her head tilting in mock curiosity.

Lisa sighed. This girl was really digging her own grave.

"Look, Myra, I’m not scared of you," Amara continued.

Lisa blinked. It was nice to know another person apart from her hated the high pedestal Myra had been put on. Like she was the main character of some novel.

"I think I’ll stay here," Lisa said suddenly, lifting her chin. She turned to Amara and her group, her voice steady. "With my friends."

And just like that, she walked away.

With Amara

Later that day during Lunch,

Lisa had spent lunch with Amara, Ezra had wandered off with some new redhead, and Nathan wouldn’t shut up about after-school clubs.

"So, have you guys decided?" he asked for the third time, shoving another fry into his mouth.

"I chose the drama club," Arielle said, sipping her juice through a bright red straw.

"Drama club?" Myra echoed, raising a brow. "I didn’t know you were into acting."

Arielle shrugged. "Neither did I. But it looks fun."

Before Myra could respond, the cafeteria doors swung open, and the entire room fell into a hushed silence.

She didn’t even have to look up to know who had just walked in.

King.

She sighed, taking an aggressive bite out of her sandwich. This exact thing had happened yesterday, and she still wasn’t in the mood for it.

King strolled through the cafeteria with his usual air of effortless dominance, his long coat swaying slightly with each step. He made his way to his usual seat—right next to her—and, without so much as a greeting, plucked the apple off her tray like it had always belonged to him.

Myra clenched her jaw. "You owe me an apple."

King bit into it with an infuriatingly slow smirk. "I own sixty percent of this school. Technically, everything here is mine—including the apple."

Myra inhaled sharply through her nose. Just ignore him.

The room slowly returned to its usual hum of chatter, but she could still hear the whispers.

"She’s so lucky."

"I bet she’s his new girlfriend."

"What does he even see in her?"

She gritted her teeth. Her hearing was too good for this.

Meanwhile, King had started playing with a strand of her hair, twirling it lazily around his fingers. She had glared at him three times, and he still hadn’t stopped.

From across the cafeteria, Lisa’s voice rang out.

"Oh, Myra doesn’t even like King."

Myra’s head snapped up.

"I’m not sure if they’re dating or not," Ezra added, stirring his drink. "But I think my sister’s aromantic."

Myra blinked. Excuse me?

Her mind whirred. Ezra was wrong, but—could she use this?

A slow, mischievous smile curled her lips.

Oh, she was so going to have fun with this.

---

After school, Myra asked King to meet her in the music room.

When she arrived, he was already there, leaning against the grand piano with his arms crossed, looking both intrigued and annoyingly pleased with himself.

"So," he drawled, "what’s this about, Myra? Finally realized you can’t resist me?"

She ignored that.

"King," she said, flashing him a very rare smile.

He blinked.

She took a deep breath. "Remember when we were in London and you told me you loved me?"

His expression shifted—wariness creeping in.

"Myra—"

"The reason I can’t love you back," she continued, "is because…" She took a dramatic pause. "I want to be a nun."

The room went dead silent.

King’s brain short-circuited.

She could see it on his face—the way his mouth opened slightly, then closed, then opened again.

"You—what?" he finally said.

She clasped her hands together, eyes filled with fake devotion. "I’ve always wanted to dedicate my life to the Lord."

King stared at her like she’d just grown another head.

"You’re not even Christian," he deadpanned.

She gasped. "Are you questioning my faith?"

His jaw clenched. "Yes."

She folded her arms. "Well, if you truly love me, you’ll respect my decision."

King let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Even if the heavens demanded it, I still wouldn’t leave you alone."

Her smile dropped.

Well. That backfired. After saying that he took his backpack and left the room.

Myra stomped her feet on the ground. How could a human be so infuriating?! Arrogant! And–

Attractive.

Myra paused. What the fuck was that thought?! She patted her cheeks trying to hit sense into herself. She needed a way to get rid of that human and quick.

\_\_\_

The room was steeped in the scent of aged mahogany and vanilla, the soft crackling of the fireplace the only sound breaking the thick silence. Myra stood at the doorway, arms crossed, her brown eyes narrowing at the man lounging in the velvet armchair as if he were born to rule the space.

Why was he in her home?!

Dracula sipped his tea leisurely, the faint clink of porcelain against his ringed fingers punctuating the tension. The flickering firelight glinted off his sharp, aristocratic features, his midnight hair cascading over his broad shoulders. His presence alone was suffocating, like the heavy weight of a storm waiting to break.

“You’re close with King, aren’t you?” he asked, voice as smooth as black silk.

Myra rolled her eyes. “Not this again.”

The tea’s aroma curled through the air, mingling with the distinct scent of iron—faint, but present. She wasn’t stupid. She knew why he was here, obviously not for tea and biscuits.

Dracula set his cup down, the clink against the saucer delicate yet final. His smirk was slow, deliberate, full of a predator’s amusement. “I need you to retrieve something from his manor.”

Myra pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply to keep herself from screaming. “Of course you do.”

Dracula leaned forward, his eyes gleaming like polished obsidian. “Do this for me, and I’ll owe you a favor.”

That caught her attention.

Myra’s fingers twitched at her sides, the gears in her mind whirring. A favor from Dracula was no small thing—it could be the key to something bigger. But King’s manor? That was a different kind of headache entirely.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, the bitter taste of hesitation sitting heavy on her tongue. “What exactly am I looking for?”

Dracula’s smirk widened, revealing just the slightest glint of elongated canines. “Something I want immensely, a necklace”

Myra’s stomach twisted. If King had something that interested the Dracula, that meant he was entangled in something far more dangerous than just his irritating obsession with her. And if she got caught snooping around his home, he wouldn’t just let it slide. She sighed, she was already stuck spending the weekend with him, why n

ot?!

She exhaled sharply. “Fine.”

Dracula’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he leaned back, reclaiming his tea. “Good girl.”

Myra’s jaw clenched.

It was going to be a long weekend.