Page 104 of Lucky 14

“Don’t worry, mousey…I don’t get jealous.” Kyan throws a full wink at me, then nods his head at Holli. Who…astoundingly…throws him a small smile.

My mouth drops open. Have I lost it? I’ve completely lost it. What’s with the switch-up? I think my vision gets a bit red.

“Well,” Kyan’s voice is deep and unhurried. “I hear you guys have been trying to get a lift off this island.”

I can’t comprehend what’s happening. My ears must start ringing ‘cause I don’t register what’s said next. All I know is Holli is gripping my arm. I look down at her, and she gives me a strained smile. It doesn’t meet her eyes. “A ride, right?”

The strained look in her eyes snaps me back to reality. She’s faking it. She’s not actually being nice to him.

I’m not completely losing it. I take a deep breath.

“Well then, stowaways. Follow me.” And with that, Kyan turns on his heel and stalks away. Holli starts to follow, but this time I’m the one grabbing her arm, hissing at her. As soon as Kyan makes it through the doorway, I pull her back into me. “What’s going on?”

Holli hisses, “Play along.”

“Play along?” I’m pulled as she tries to follow Kyan. “He’s acting… Something isn’t right.” I yank so hard she’s pulled back into the room.

She rounds on me with a stressed look in her eyes. “Do you know what D.I.D. is?”

I stare blankly at her.

“Dissociative Identity Disorder.” She glances at the door, like she’s expecting him to come back in. I still have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Multiple personalities,” she hisses.

Suddenly, Kyan pops his head back in. “You guys coming?”

“Yep!” Holli takes a step back and looks at me, her eyes pleading. “Sorry, we’re coming.”

My head spins, but I take a step to follow. Multiple personalities? I’ve seen it in a movie once, I think. But I thought that shit was fake?

But I don’t have time to think because Holli is dragging me into the hallway where Kyan is whistling some nursery rhyme. The cheerful, light tones echo in the hallway as we go deeper into the hotel, then my foot slips. I stagger, caught by Holli as I look down and choke on a startled scream.

Blood. Lots of it. And not two feet away, a body.

I’m frozen there for a second. A body. Like, a real body. It’s a man, and he looks like he’s sleeping, only with his eyes open and his head covered in blood. For a second, I’m startled by how much he looks like a Halloween decoration.

Then Holli is yanking me forward.

“He won’t bite you, mousey.” Kyan turns to wink at me. “But I will.”

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Day 8

Kyan takes us to some sort of office in the back of the villa and closes the door behind us with a snick. He tosses me a flirty look, glassy eyes flicking from my face to my tits and back up to my face.

I feel the heat bloom in my cheeks. Wyatt—Kyan—whoever is attractive. I’m used to seeing the harsh gaze of Wyatt, where he carries his eyebrows so low he looks older. Kyan carries himself so differently; it’s shocking, his dark eyes almost containing a sparkle.

It takes me a second to fix my face and return his look with as much of my therapist control as I can.

The pieces are starting to fall into place. The blank look Wyatt got when he just…left me in his room. Why in the hell would he just leave me like that? Now I wonder…was he switching personalities?

Dissociative Identity Disorder is, as far as I can remember, a condition created by trauma in childhood. I rack my brain trying to remember what I learned in school. It’s not a condition I frequently treat, but it is out there. Something about the brain creating different personalities to deal with abuse. What I don’t remember is…well, a lot. But how much of each personality can communicate with the others? Like, does Kyan know Wyatt exists? Sometimes, alters can’t communicate at all. Right?

I stare at the back of Kyan’s head, willing myself to remember. This is fucking important, Holli. Only, my mind draws a blank, because of course it does. I really should have paid more attention. I think I passed the mock interview using empathy and active listening, but there were so many interviews that I don’t remember exactly what happened in this one.

I stare blankly at the back of Kyan’s head, uncomfortably close. Kyan wears his hair down, waving back like he used his fingers to brush through it.