Chapter 10- Taz #2
He opens his mouth, but before he can say more, a bicyclist zooms by, ringing their bell. I hold Luther to stop him from crossing into traffic, then we both smile when we notice my hand is on his muscly chest. With a chuckle, I smooth out his shirt, letting go all too soon.
“This way,” he says, pointing to the intersecting street, and the moment is lost.
After another minute of walking, I announce, “Wait a sec.” He stops at my words, and I turn to watch the sun setting over Paris. “It’s a gorgeous view. Not too close to the tower, with all the tourists, but the streets are aligning just right.”
I point out how the tower fits perfectly in our vantage point. It’s corny, but I feel the romance of the touristy city, especially with the guy I’ve been catching feelings for. I quickly snap a pic with my phone and notice him get closer.
Without overthinking or losing my nerve, I ask Luther, “How about a selfie of the two of us?”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous, Devries,” he says with a playful half-smile.
Most noticeable, however, is that he moves closer to me.
Luther’s down to share a picture with me, a moment I refuse to squander.
He smells so good right now with his shoulder touching mine, and I resist the urge to crane my neck and kiss him.
After taking a few snapshots, I put away my phone, and we continue our journey.
Our sunset in Paris moment is over, but I’ll cherish these photos for years to come.
It’s almost dark by the time we make it to the address.
The store is on an unassuming street sprinkled with cafes and a small hotel.
Hardly anyone is around, but the store appears not to be closed if the open door is any indication.
The sign above it isn’t in French, though; it’s in Chinese symbols. The only English reads, “Antiques.”
Luther nods at me, and we walk into the dimly lit store.
My nose wrinkles at being assaulted by the smell of tobacco, but in moments, I get used to it.
The store is bloody cluttered, with barely any space in the one corridor that leads to what must be the front desk.
The cramped space makes sense since rent is never cheap, but I assumed it would be more organized.
Instead, wares, shelves, and random objects litter our left and right.
When I focus on the far wall in front of us, a tiny glimmer of gold catches my eyes. “Westbrook,” I whisper. After tapping his shoulder, I point forward, and he looks to the far wall.
Above the desk hangs a piece of a silvery gauntlet. While the debrief images were hardly photos, all of my instincts tell me this is le gantelet des ténèbres. Luther waves his hand, and we both witness the faint pulsation of his magic bouncing right off it.
We nod at each other, wordlessly satisfied at a job well done, but fearful at how dangerous this relic is. Before we can formulate a game plan, the curtain behind the desk opens up.
An older Chinese woman with silver hair strides up to the desk while smoking a pipe. “Gentlemen,” she says in a British accent. “Good evening.” Her confidence is unnerving, but I’m glad I don’t have to bumble through my mediocre French.
“Hello, we’re uh…” Luther glances at me.
“Tourists! And we’d like to buy something special.” I point up at the hanging piece of gauntlet.
“Interesting.” She looks between us and takes two drags from her pipe. “You seem to really know what you want.”
I exchange a nervous look with Luther, and he says, “We…do.”
“Knowing what you want is important.” She studies us as if to observe something invisible between us. “Saying what you desire is equal parts thrilling and…dangerous.”
Her confidence and cryptic words lead me to believe she has more power than she lets on. Before I can try to subtly do magical detection on her, she swiftly moves around the desk.
“We’re closed,” she says decisively.
“What?” Luther asks as the pipe-smoking woman all but pushes us out of her shop. She’s not literally shoving us, but when someone confidently shoos you away, you move.
In moments, despite our protests, we’re outside her shop. “But we need―”
“I know what you need,” she says, interrupting Luther. “Come back in the morning, and I’ll sell it to you.”
“But why not now?” I ask.
“We’re closed. But I open early tomorrow.” She glances at the street. “There are hotels with vacancies across the rue. After a good night’s sleep, I promise I’ll sell to you.”
My throat goes dry at the thought of staying in a Parisian hotel. With Luther Westbrook.
Before we can react, the door shuts. So much for our mission. Luther awkwardly puts his hands in his pockets. “Guess we should like…walk back to the metro.”
He’s so quick to dismiss staying in a hotel with me that it hurts. But on the other hand, this was never meant to be a sexy sleepover mission. Though, if he wanted to share a bed…
“I suppose so. Staying in a hotel is absurd, right?” I shrug and look up. “It’s not like it’s raining or something.” As soon as I say it, droplets land on my face.
When I look at Luther in alarm, I open my mouth, but thunder cracks around us. In seconds, the rain starts to pour down.
He frowns at me, but I shrug. “I didn’t summon this!”
I laugh at the absurdity of it all, then turn to the window of the antique shop. The pipe-smoking woman is closing the curtain, but not before shooting us a knowing grin.
Okay, there’s too much to take in now. Luther raises his trench coat over both of us. When I turn to my left, the only thing visible in the downpour is a bright sign across the street.
The hotel has a vacancy.
Luther and I share a light dinner in the hotel lobby.
We talk about our favorite foods and how the Union cafeteria, while diverse, can never top the real deal.
Afterwards, he casually suggests that we listen to the pipe-smoking woman and stay the night.
I try not to agree too eagerly, but we share a smile after Luther books us an available room.
And that’s how Luther Westbrook and I end up sleeping in the same room.
I was hoping it would be an “only one bed” situation like a classic romance book, but sadly, we’re in two twin beds.
Still, the room feels so small, and the three feet between our mattresses can easily be remedied.
The things we could do if we shared a bed…
But does he want me? He’s barely looked me in the eye since we took turns showering and cleaning up.
I’m dressed down to my boxer briefs, lounging under the covers as I wait for him to come out of the bathroom.
Sure, I could have conjured pajamas, but that’s a huge waste of reserve magic, a terrible, terrible idea.
When Luther walks out, I grin at him, but he avoids my gaze. He looks bloody fit in his black tank top and white boxer shorts, and my mouth waters. In seconds, he shuts off the one light. Seriously, is he not interested in my bare chest, exposed and all for him?
“We gotta hit up the shop early tomorrow,” he says, climbing into bed. “So let’s get some rest.”
“Uh, sure,” I mutter.
“Goodnight, Devries.”
I sigh in disappointment. “Goodnight, Westbrook.”
Well, that settles it. We’re literally sleeping in the city of love, the Union isn’t tracking us, no monsters are rapping at our door, and Luther still doesn’t want to take advantage of this moment. I guess that kiss really meant nothing.
Not even ten seconds of shut-eye pass before I hear him pull the covers back with force.
After opening my eyes and adjusting to the dark, I witness Luther standing in the space between our beds.
Lightning cracks outside, bathing him in light for a brief moment.
His shadowy silhouette looks sexy, but he radiates frustration.
“Westbrook…what?” I murmur.
“I…I just…I can’t believe you, Devries!” he says through gritted teeth.
“What?” I sit up, my heart rate picking up in shock and confusion.
“You made us sleep here!”
“What?!” I repeat, bolting off the bed. Now we’re standing in front of each other, inches apart. “What are you bloody on about, Westbrook?”
“You know what I’m on about! You’re the reason we’re stuck in this Paris hotel room.” He taps my bare chest, but I’m not budging.
“Me?!” Anger rises in my throat. “I don’t control the weather! You want to walk over a mile to the metro in this storm, be my guest. But you paid for this room.”
“Yeah, because you kept bringing this up. How it makes sense to wait here overnight for the mission.”
“And you agreed!” Our voices are rising now, and all of Paris might hear one of our classic shouting matches.
“But I didn’t know I’d be stuck so close to you!”
“What’s wrong with being stuck with me?”
“Everything! You make me uncomfortable. Being so close to you makes me lose my mind!”
“If you don’t like it, Lulu, maybe I’ll just leave!” I step closer to his face, my nose nearly on his. “Use the last of my magic to teleport to the metro―”
“Of course I don’t want you to leave!” He takes my shoulders, and on instinct, I grab the front of his tank top. “But being so close to you is fucking scary!”
“And why is that?”
“Because I wanna do so much more than kiss you, you beautiful bastard,” he mutters. His breath fans my face, the scent of toothpaste wafting between us.
It takes three whole seconds to register what he said. “Wait…what?” I try to step back, but he holds me in place.
He bristles and, with an almost broken voice, he admits, “I want…so many things with you, Taz. And now the universe has put us here.”
I gulp, and my heart rate doesn’t go down. But the anger and fear are gone, replaced with a tastier emotion: anticipation, laced with more than a little lust.
With a grin, I step forward again, my nose nearly brushing his. “Well, I haven’t run away yet. And now you have me on a platter.”
“It seems I do,” he says, breathlessly. His hands travel down my arms, and he holds my elbows. Goosebumps run down my half-naked body, and I’m already getting hard.
Licking my lips, my tongue grazing his skin for the lightest, briefest moment, I grin. Moving my head to the side of his face, I whisper, “Then what are you going to do about it, Lulu? Tell me…tell me exactly what you want.”
I gently tongue-kiss his ear, and his response is a delicious moan and shudder. When he pulls back from me, I’m afraid I did too much. Before I can act like an adult again, Luther pulls off his shirt, and even in the darkness, I take in his toned body.
We share a laugh as he pushes me onto the bed. The next thing I know, Luther is holding my face still, his body covering mine, and kissing me hard.