A Movie?

{Master! Master! Wake up, it’s almost time for work!}

I groaned and dragged a pillow over my face. Who the hell was yelling at this hour? Mrs. Parker moved out last week. Nobody should be banging on walls yet.

{Master? Seriously? That’s what we’re going with?}

My mattress felt wrong. Too soft. Like I’d fallen into a giant scented marshmallow. My old bed only ever smelled like regret and instant-noodle seasoning.

Since when did I own silk sheets?

{Master! You’re finally awake!}

I cracked one eye open.

Pink walls. Crystal chandelier. Glitter on the ceiling. Actual glitter.

I shot upright. The sheets twisted around my legs like clingy exes. “Either I’m dreaming or someone kidnapped me and gave me a glow-up.”

I pinched my thigh. Hard.

“Ow. Okay, not dreaming.”

{If you’d stop cutting me off for five seconds—}

The voice was inside my head. Inside my actual head.

Great. Haunted.

I scanned the room. No creepy kids, no floating ladies. Just money and vanilla candles. “Hello? Casper? You taking interior design requests now?”

{If you’d just let me finish!}

“Are you… crying?” The ghost sounded one second from a meltdown.

{I am NOT crying. I am a highly advanced artificial intelligence, thank you.}

A glowing blue orb the size of a tennis ball popped into existence and hovered there, judging me.

I blinked. “You’re a ball.”

{A highly advanced round-shaped artificial intelligence.}

“Did you just roll your eyes?”

{…No.}

“You did. That’s adorable.” I reached out.

{DON’T touch me. Personal space.}

I grinned and pulled my hand back. “Touchy for a floating disco ball.”

The orb flashed brighter. {As I’ve been trying to tell you—you died.}

Silence.

Then I squeaked, “Excuse me?”

{You died. While eating ramen and croissants together. The coroner is still confused.}

My hands flew to my mouth. “I died from a croissant-ramen combo? That’s the most embarrassing death in history.”

{Congratulations. I grabbed your soul before it floated off to food-crime purgatory and dropped you here.}

“Here being…?”

{The movie you watched last night. The one with the hot psychotic wolf king.}

I squinted. “The Psychiatrist and the Psychopath? The indie one with the terrible CGI wolves?”

{Exactly.}

I looked at my hands. Pale, delicate, manicured. Not mine. “Wait. Am I the psychopath?”

{No, you idiot. You’re Elena. The psychiatrist. And, thanks to a tiny system glitch, you’re also the fated mate of King Kael. The psychopath wolf.}

The orb bobbed like it felt bad.

I stared. “You accidentally made me the love interest?”

{Mistakes happen when you’re soul-snatching on a Tuesday night.}

I flopped back into the pillows. “So I’m dead, stuck in a trashy werewolf movie, engaged to a murderer, and my only friend is a snarky blue orb.”

{Affirmative.}

“Cool. Cool cool cool. What’s the mission? There’s always a mission.”

{Save the villain—King Kael—from his tragic ending. Redeem him, survive, etc. Succeed and you go home rich and orb-free.}

“And if I fail?”

{You die permanently. And I’m bonded to your soul forever. We’re both motivated.}

I sat up. “You’d be stuck with me for eternity?”

{Don’t sound so thrilled.}

“Listen here, Glowstick,” I said, pointing at the orb. “I once worked mall security for three hours and saved a kid from a claw machine. Saving one murderous werewolf is nothing.”

I scrambled out of bed, tripped over the duvet, swore under my breath, and finally reached the mirror.

Long wine-red wavy hair, violet eyes, cheekbones sharp enough to slice bread. Elena was unfairly gorgeous.

I spun around. “You couldn’t give me normal hair?”

{Be grateful I didn’t leave you bald.}

Three sharp knocks rattled the door.

We both froze.

A cheerful voice sang from the hallway. “Lady Elena? Duchess Voss requests your presence for breakfast."

The orb dimmed. {You have to have breakfast with your mother and sister first. Stay in character. Do NOT deviate.}

I swallowed. “Remind me what my character is again?”

{Didn’t you actually watch the movie?}

“I was eating most of the time, sue me. I’m only human.” I paused. “Well. Was.”

{The most hated female psychiatrist in the kingdom. You despise everyone, especially your cold, emotionless little sister. Everyone except your mate must hate you.}

I exhaled. “So don’t smile, don’t talk, just eat and leave. Got it.”

I straightened my spine, wiped every trace of warmth off my face, practiced my expressionless face in the mirror one more time and muttered to the orb, “Showtime.”

"I'm ready. Mother and Sister has no idea what's coming for them."