Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 122946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
I was doing that a lot—smiling—looking to Lucy, who was just watching us somewhat bored with our conversation, I asked, “Do you mind?”
“I am your guest, of course, I don’t. Plus, I need things, too. Here is a good place,” she answered, pointing to a shop called 72 Rue de la Pompe. It looked like a French version of Rodeo Drive. The sign above the Cartier star shined like a diamond in the night sky as we pulled off at the street corner. When we did, the car in front of us did a few cars up, as well.
Stepping out on the street corner, a few people glanced toward us—the strange, beautiful creatures out wearing nothing but light sweaters as snow fell. But the minute they saw the flag, they seemed to come under some sort of understanding because they stopped gawking and just went on their way as if nothing were strange anymore.
“The humans here—”
“Have lived alongside the strange and supernatural for generations. It’s the biggest city in Quebec, and almost everyone knows the Swan family—human, witch, and vampire alike,” Lucy answered before I could ask the question.
Taelon came over to us flanked by two men dressed in black.
“They wish to shop,” Theseus said to him.
“You suggested shopping,” I said quickly, not liking how he put it.
“Since you beat me to the suggestion, I must pay for it.” Taelon grinned, all too happy to reach into his wallet and pull out a blank card which I didn’t really think existed, handing it over to Lucy.
“I have my own money.” I reached for my nonexistence purse, which I could now see sitting on my desk in the lab…in Washington.
“You know how in the movies the girl meets a rich guy who insists on paying for everything, but she insists that he doesn’t buy her anything too crazy?” Lucy asked me.
“Yes.” I remembered how many times I had read that in books.
“Please, don’t be that girl.” She happily took the card before turning back to Theseus. “Anything you want her to get?”
He just stared at me.
“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” Lucy said to him.
“A dress for dinner…silk. I do not care about the color.”
Lucy nodded and looked at me. “Let’s go.”
I looked at Taelon. “What kind of soul are you that this is your mate for all eternity?”
He chuckled in return and glanced at Lucy. “Do you have a reply for this one, too, madam?”
“It’s already eight; we should get started.” She avoided his question, looking at me with her eyes wide, which only caused him to grin and shake his head.
“Charline, please take care of them.” He spoke to the woman who had been driving us. She was a little taller than Lucy but not quite my height with curly, chestnut-brown hair that stopped at her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep honey color, and she wore all black just like Taelon’s men.
“Druella,” Taelon said. “This is Charline a Bonsaint. While I trust Lucy will be able to get you anything you need, Charline is here to assist you as well.”
“Ugh, thanks.” I nodded to him, not sure why I would need a personal assistant. For some reason, I felt like she was annoyed with me.
However, I pushed it to the back of my mind when Theseus walked forward, stopping between Taelon and me. He reached up and brushed back my curls. “Though you’re safer here, you still must be safe. We shall speak later.”
I nodded.
“Where would you like to start?” Lucy asked, glancing around. “They won’t leave until we move first.”
And sure enough, they were waiting.
“The bakery,” I said, causing her to turn her head to me in confusion. “Yes, yes, I know, but let’s at least pretend to be normal.”
“Normal for whom though?” Lucy frowned.
Rolling my eyes, we began walking, waving back to Theseus and Taelon. It didn’t take Lucy much effort to catch up to me. The bakery’s name was, Pierre É Paradis. It was bright pink with yellow lights that beat down on the baked goods in the storefront. Human food still smelled good; it just tasted like hot, molding garbage. Even still, I couldn’t help but stare in wonder at all the treats when we stepped into the shop. The owner, an older man, smiled and started speaking joyfully to us in French.
Lucy shook her head, completely uninterested, deflating the pour man’s heart.
“Can you tell him I want two of each of these.” I pointed to the cookies and croissants. “And I want two large, hot chocolates.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Haven’t you ever seen those movies where two girlfriends go out shopping and taking pictures of their food together? I never had any close girlfriends, so I don’t want to miss the moment. I’m sure you don’t have any girlfriends, either.”
“I do not need girlfriends. I am my own friend,” she muttered.