The Summer King Bundle 3 Stories - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,178

cream bedspread had been smoothed back from the thick pillows. A pair of slippers I always left out but rarely wore waited by the bed. A fluffy and chunky gray throw blanket was draped over the chair by the window. It looked and felt the same. The room even smelled like I remembered. Like pineapple and mango.

But I wasn’t the same.

My gaze made its way to the closet. I forced my steps forward. Opening the closet door, I switched on the light. What I saw first were the wigs in various colors and lengths, the knee-high boots and spiky heels, and the skintight dresses. They were all costumes designed to hide my identity while I hunted the fae responsible for killing my mother. I didn’t need them anymore. I’d succeeded. They were all dead now, and those wigs and dresses…

They’d become a part of who and what I’d been shaped into. I ran my hand over the Lycra material of a red dress that I wouldn’t have dared to wear five years ago. The outfits, the wigs, the shoes—all had aided me in finding the fae responsible for killing my mother, but they’d also done something else. They’d given me the confidence I’d been sorely lacking.

But this stuff still wasn’t me. They were words written in blood and tears for a chapter that had come to an end.

Pivoting around, I hurried downstairs to the pantry. Black garbage bags in hand, I went back to the closet and started cleaning house. Everything went. The wigs. The shoes. The dresses—well, almost everything. I couldn’t bear to part with the studded mid-calf boots or the silvery sequined dress. Those boots were surprisingly comfortable, and the dress…

It was the outfit I’d been wearing when I killed Tobias—one of the fae I’d been looking for.

And it was the dress I had on the first time I came face-to-face with Caden in the club.

For that reason alone, I should toss it with the rest, but I hung it back up between the thick, oversized cardigan and the blazer I never wore.

Pulling open the drawers in the center dresser, I breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted the extra sets of iron daggers and cuffs. I closed the drawer and then picked up my makeup case. Setting it on the counter inside the closet, I flipped the switches and rooted around, pulling out the heavier makeup—the stuff I wouldn’t even wear for a fancy occasion.

Not that I attended many fancy things.

I dumped the makeup into an old grocery bag and walked out—

Caden stood in the doorway of the bedroom, arms loosely crossed over the plain gray tee shirt he wore as he stared at the garbage bags.

He lifted his chin, and the room seemed to tilt as our gazes connected. His hair was pulled back, and the beams of sunlight seemed to be attracted to all the striking, symmetrical angles and planes of his face.

Upon the unexpected sight, my heart lodged itself in my throat. Now, it was firmly back in my chest, pounding for reasons unrelated to shock.

Caden was…he was gorgeous, his beauty rugged and raw. As shallow as this sounded, I could stare at him all day, and there was a good chance he knew that. Warmth crept into my cheeks and flowed down my throat. It took a moment for me to find my ability to speak. “How did you get in here?”

One side of his lips quirked up. “You know I’m not a vampire, right? I don’t need permission to enter a home.”

My eyes narrowed. “I’m pretty sure the front door was locked.”

“It was.”

I lifted my brows.

“Tink let me in,” he answered finally, eyes twinkling.

I really needed to talk to Tink about letting Caden in. Not like this was the first time, but that damn brownie knew better.

He unfolded his arms, the act doing interesting things to the muscles under his shirt. “Doing some light spring cleaning?”

“Something like that.”

“What are you going to do with all that stuff?”

I glanced down at the overflowing bags. “I thought I’d give them to Goodwill or a women’s shelter.” My nose scrunched. “Although, they’d probably wonder if an escort had cleaned out their closet.”

“A high-priced escort,” Caden murmured, and my lips twitched at that. “I have to say I’m glad to see you throwing this stuff away.”

I almost said that I didn’t care what he felt, but doing so would lessen the significance of what getting rid of these items meant.

“Although…” He reached inside a bag