Chapter 8 Off to an Adventure #2
I had never seen a Rolls-Royce up close before.
Out of the Rolls-Royce emerged a man. He was almost as tall as Lucien at over six feet, with the body of a swimmer—broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His hair was light brown with just as many curls as Lucien’s, and his eyes were almost as blue, too, though a few shades darker and far less piercing.
He was gorgeous, and there was no way in hell the two men weren’t related.
When the man saw Lucien, he smiled, and two dimples appeared in his cheeks. “Bonsoir, cousin blessé,” the man said in French.
Lucien smiled back, shoulders relaxing in evident relief. “Petit gars,” he said in French, too, and the way his voice lowered when he spoke his native tongue made me want to lick my lips like a pervert.
The two men did the handshake with half a hug men always did, and at that moment, it was hard to remember that Lucien was a werewolf. He acted like every human did, and so did the other man. As if they weren’t actually mythological creatures.
The discrepancy was a little disorienting at times.
“Drew.” Lucien’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I fought a blush as he looked at me with certain fondness, the darkness in his expression from before completely gone now. “This is my cousin, Rémi. Rémi, this is the woman who saved my life.”
Well, now I had no choice but to blush profusely. “Nice to meet you,” I told his cousin with a stiff nod.
Remi smiled in return. “Thank you for saving my dear cousin’s life,” he said with no French accent in his voice, as if he was born and raised in the US, before returning his gaze to Lucien. “The key’s inside. And I printed the files you asked for.”
Lucien’s eyes, which had been lit up when he saw his cousin, dimmed a little now. “Thank you,” he said, adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder. “Have you told them?”
Glancing briefly at me, Remi nonetheless nodded. “Most of them seemed to believe it.”
“That’s good enough.” Lucien sighed. “Let’s just hope the ones I need will take the bait.”
Remi snorted. “They probably will. But, Lucien . . .” He grew serious. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?” He hesitantly glanced at me again. “I mean, taking a human is risky, and the ASS won’t be happy once they find out . . .”
“Drew is under my care now,” Lucien replied with resolution that made my chest expand a little with a sense of importance. It also made me wonder whether his cousin knew Lucien advocated the exposure of his kind to the human world. “Also,” he added, “the ASS could go fuck themselves.”
This didn’t seem to sit well with Remi, which made my suspicion grow, but to my surprise, he let it go. “All right, then. Good luck. It was nice meeting you, Drew,” he told me.
I gave him a strained smile and said, “It was nice meeting you too. And don’t worry,” I added, pulling my baggy shirt aside to reveal the holster attached to my jeans. “I can take care of myself.”
Both Lucien and Remi seemed stunned by the sight. Lucien especially, since his eyes snapped to mine, wide with shock. “You didn’t tell me you owned a gun,” he said somewhat accusingly.
Hottest man alive or not, I didn’t like his tone. Letting my shirt go, I folded my arms and arched a brow. “You really thought I would leave my place without my pistol?”
Remi barked out a laugh. “I like her already,” he told Lucien, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing it.
“By the way,” I said without heat, “I also don’t like when I’m being talked about as if I’m not in the room, so don’t do that ever again.”
Remi laughed again, but Lucien remained quiet. In fact, his face turned inscrutable as his eyes searched mine, as if trying to figure something out.
Then he said—or rather, stated—“You don’t trust me.”
This was the really confusing part. The logical part of my mind knew I shouldn’t trust him. In fact, I rarely trusted anyone, so trusting a man, a supernatural creature, after a few days of knowing him, mostly in his wolf form? Yeah, not happening.
And yet the other part of my brain, the emotional part, the gut feeling, told me he was safe.
That he wouldn’t hurt me. That I should give my trust to him, because unlike everyone else in my life, he wouldn’t break it.
Wouldn’t throw it away. Wouldn’t dismiss it as a given, and would respect it, cherish it, instead.
He’d also proven he at least cared about my wishes when he didn’t leave me with Chase to get my memories erased. He knew I wouldn’t stand for it, and he cared enough to take me away from that danger.
But I feared leaning on that part of me that seemed to be led by the visceral attraction I was feeling toward the man. I wasn’t completely sure what his true motives were, and so I couldn’t trust him.
“Not yet,” I replied now. “But I do trust that you’re not a bad person.”
It wasn’t a lie. Despite everything else, an understanding, or even a certain kind of knowledge deep in the core of my being, knew that he was a good person. A good man.
That didn’t change the fact that even the best of men could abuse my trust or harm me unintentionally.
He said he wouldn’t, and I believed him. It didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of it. Besides, I had yet to know how he was in his wolf form when he wasn’t bleeding to death. What if his wolf form was dangerous?
Lucien seemed to understand what I did and didn’t say, and nodded with a somewhat sad look on his face. “Right,” he said quietly, before shifting his attention to Remi. “You have a way to go back?”
“Got my ride waiting a few blocks away,” Remi replied and stepped back. “I hope you have a fruitful hunt, cousin, and that you’ll come back home quickly.”
A few moments later, he was gone, leaving me alone with Lucien and the Rolls-Royce.
Lucien now opened the back seat door and put my bag inside. He then grabbed the neat folder Remi had left him and handed it to me. “Please hold on to this,” he told me.
He shut the door and was about to round the car for the driver’s seat when I asked, “Do you even have your driver’s license on you?”
Lucien paused, grinned, and said, “You want to drive the car, don’t you?”
I flushed. Busted. But still—“If the police stop us and you don’t have a license on you, it could hinder us.”
He chuckled, amused. “I promise to let you drive it later,” he said, pulling the driver’s seat door open. “And to ease your mind, look in the glove box.”
Frowning, I slid into the passenger seat and pulled open the glove box. There, on top of all the car files, rested a shiny new license, with an unfairly hot picture of Lucien’s head—how could he look so good in a damned ID picture?!—under the name Lucien Delterre.
I deflated. There went my excuse. “Damn.”
Lucien chuckled again. “I told you, I’ll let you drive later.” His amusement died down now as he pulled away from the park. “Now, it’s time I tell you what’s really going on.”