Chapter 9 #2
Raoul came back up the stairs alone, his ancient boots creaking but somehow still fitting with the distressed jeans-and-T-shirt look. “Okay,” I said slowly when he held out what he had in his hand: a wallet and a phone. He looked entirely pleased with himself.
“Immortals adapt quickly,” he said. “I am now capable of participating in your economy.” He showed me the wallet, withdrew a card, and held it out to me. I took it slowly, uncertain what to do with it, but it turned out he just wanted to show it off to me.
Fanning out the many debit and credit cards in the brand-new billfold, he grinned boyishly.
“You have, like, six of these,” I said, suitably impressed.
Though the plastic itself meant nothing if he had no money to pay the balance with.
I had a feeling that might not be an issue, though; he might have had money accumulating at this bank for two centuries straight.
“And identification,” he added, producing what looked like very official French documents: a passport, something that looked suspiciously like a driver’s license. Considering he hadn’t known what a car was until yesterday, that was slightly terrifying.
“You got all of this done in, what, twenty minutes?” I asked, my mind flashing to the nightmarish wait times at the DMV when I needed to get my license renewed.
“Yes,” he agreed. He tucked his wallet, papers, and phone confidently into his jeans pockets. He might have hated those pants when he put them on last night, but he already seemed comfortable wearing them.
“I hate you a little,” I declared with a grin. “This is nuts.” He smiled as if that pleased him.
The rest of the day felt like something out of a dream.
A better version of the trip I had planned.
We walked through history, real history, not just guidebook summaries.
He pointed things out casually, places I would have missed or never understood.
The Notre-Dame Cathedral, which he was horrified to discover had nearly burned down fairly recently, though the city had already worked hard to restore the historic place.
We saw the Place de la Bastille, the Palais-Royal, all of them layered with meaning I hadn’t expected.
Stories told by him of actually being there when these sites became part of important historic events.
Lunch was at a place he casually informed me was run by a werewolf. I didn’t even question it. He was right, though, the croissants were even better here, so flaky and buttery that the pastry melted on my tongue. Dinner was somehow even better than magical croissants baked by a werewolf.
Afterward, we walked along the Seine, the water reflecting the golden glow of the city lights as the sun dipped low.
It really was perfect; the perfect date, the perfect gentleman.
Exactly what I’d wanted this trip to be.
Except now, instead of Logan, I had Raoul, and that was better in every way.
He was conscientious, attentive, and he seemed genuinely interested in anything I said.
There was a small street vendor selling magazines and popular books we passed at one point. I slowed, glancing at the window display out of habit, and then burst out laughing. “Raoul,” I said, pointing. He followed my gaze and then went very still.
Displayed prominently on the front shelf were rows of vampire romance novels: dark covers, dramatic titles, brooding men with glowing eyes. Admittedly, some of them were favorites I’d devoured with great enjoyment.
His expression shifted from confusion to horror, which I watched happen with my breath stuck in my chest, full of expectation. “This,” he said slowly, “is a gross misrepresentation.”
I grinned, practically bursting with giddy happiness. “Oh, you have no idea.” He glared at the books, hooked his arm through mine, and urged me to keep walking. If he could have gotten away with hissing at those books and baring his fangs without scaring the shopkeeper, he would have.
By the time we returned to the hotel, the sky had deepened into evening. The hallway was quiet, deserted. The moment felt inevitable after a day like today. My belly danced with butterflies, and my cheeks ached from smiling so much. Today was such a good day after the madness of yesterday.
We stopped at my door. He looked at me, and I looked at him.
He was going to kiss me, I knew it, wanted it.
My hands reached for his shoulders, clung, as his head bent to mine.
Pale hair slid forward, framing his face.
The kiss came softly, a tender brush that lingered, clung, building into something that made my pulse race and my thoughts scatter.
My hand curling into the front of his shirt as I leaned into him.
This was it. What we’d probably been building to from the moment we met. Sparks had sort of flown, even in that dark, scary tunnel. My hand fumbled with the door, opened it, while the other tightened on his shirt, intending to pull him inside with me. The bed—more kisses—those were my priority.
“Promise me something,” Raoul husked, lifting his head. I blinked in confusion, pulling back slightly. He was so close I could feel the hard planes of his body, the sleek muscle his dusty suit had previously hidden.
“What?” I whispered, my mouth wet and my lips swollen. His expression had shifted, not heated with passion, but serious, focused. Something dark danced behind his eyes, and I wondered, possibly for the first time, if he now thirsted for my blood.
“You will go inside,” he said, “and you will sleep.” That was not at all what I expected him to say. I stared, my confusion mounting. Sleep? Wasn’t he going to come in with me? Weren’t we about to...
“What?” I whispered, much smaller now. My passion was snuffed out, and something cold replaced the languid warmth this perfect day had brought. What was happening? I thought we’d been on the same page, but apparently I’d misread the situation terribly.
“You will not leave this room,” he continued. “You will not wait up for me.” The cold thread of confusion grew, and dread settled in my stomach. I opened my mouth to protest, perhaps to ask why. He silenced me with a stern glare, his eyes beginning to glow gold. “Promise me.”
The tone in his voice… It wasn’t a suggestion; no, he was commanding. “Why? Where are you going?” I tried anyway. The fact that he was leaving was becoming obvious, and it was so unexpected I struggled to wrap my head around it.
“That is not your concern.” Ouch, he was beginning to sound like a dick, and I did not like it one bit.
He sounded more like the guy I’d woken from his slumber yesterday.
I wouldn’t stand for it, but it was hard to combat when he was already slipping from my grasp.
His fingers untangled my grip from his shirt, his expression closing off.
“That is absolutely my concern!” I barked, jerking my hands back and crossing my arms over my chest. He was putting physical distance between us, and it made the glowing day feel as if it ended in cold, lonely darkness. I hugged myself tight and glared.
“Susie,” Raoul sighed, and something in the air shifted.
He reached up, and though I flinched, he cupped my chin.
“Understand, I must put my affairs in order. How could I…” He faltered, his gaze growing golden as it swung from my face to the bed behind me.
“Nothing would be more perfect than to celebrate the night in your arms, but that wouldn’t be fair to you when I come with so much… baggage.”
He was the one with baggage? It was my carry-on that was slashed to bits, and that had been the excuse for him not leaving my side. I’d felt as if he’d stayed to protect me, but now he was telling me he was going for the same reason.
The kiss he brushed against my forehead was so fast it was just the barest touch of his lips to my skin.
“I will be back, and we will have more days like today. Now stay inside and sleep.” He turned and walked away.
I was left standing in the doorway, heart racing, mind spinning as he disappeared back into the city alone.