Chapter 22
Ari
The little coastal city we just landed in for the next show is just what I need. The sun is shining. My mate is on my arm, and she has no idea that I intend to spend the whole day spoiling her.
Apparently, a couple of blocks away, there is a shopping district that is supposed to have anything anyone could need. We’ll see about that because my little siren has a very specific taste in fashion that makes me drool.
While some girls might dress like she does occasionally, or even just for the shows, embodies it. Black on black with holes and lace and metal spikes. It’s fucking perfection.
I have a sneaking suspicion that her preferences might have been discouraged in the past because when we first brought her along, she chose to wear more subdued options, but as she’s gotten more comfortable, there have been pieces of clothing she’d wear that have made me need to adjust myself.
Today is not any different. She’s wearing Atlantica’s eighties-style rock T-shirt in a size four or five times larger than what she needs—so that it looks like a dress—with a knot in one side, and thigh-high stockings with lace cuffs above her knee-high black combat boots I bought her a couple tour stops back, as a surprise.
When she walked out of her hotel room wearing that today, the first thing I wanted to do was lock us in her room and never come out, but that would ruin the rest of my plans.
The second thing I wanted to do was beg her not to wear that in public.
Not because I didn’t want people to see her, I was fucking proud to show her off even if we weren’t official yet.
But because walking around with her touching me while she looks like that makes it hard .
. . pun intended . . . for me to be a gentleman.
“Where are we going?” She whines again, pushing her lip out and trying to get me to tell her and ruin the surprise. Turning my head, unable to not give her what she wants if I see her face, I watch the people milling about the sidewalks. “You’ll see when we get there.”
She tugs on my arm.
“I’m not looking at you. You know I have no power against that face.”
Let’s be real; I don’t have any real power when it comes to her. Everything I am and everything I have sits in the palm of her hand, and she doesn’t even know it yet.
After a few minutes of walking and comfortable conversation, we turn onto the main strip of the shopping district. A small gasp escapes Erica as her eyes widen and sparkle.
“Ready to go shopping?” I beam, bracing myself for her excitement, but something is off.
Her eyes are darting between the stores like she’s mentally cataloging something.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, squeezing her hand still in mine.
Ever so slowly, she turns her face to mine. I can see her emotions still warring with each other in her eyes. I saw the sparkle when she first saw this place, but as soon as I mentioned we were shopping for her, something changed.
Taking a deep breath she explains, “I can’t always find clothes that fit right in stores like these . . . ”
I had never even thought that could be a possibility. “There are seriously stores that don’t carry clothes that fit you?” I don’t mean to bark, but my blood pressure is nearing unhealthy levels.
She shakes her head, pink blooming on her cheeks. Not the pretty blushes I love. She’s embarrassed.
Lifting her chin so she’s looking at me I say, “We don’t have to go.
I just thought it would be fun, but if you don’t want to, we can do something else.
But, if you want to give it a try, I don’t care how many stores we go through, and I won’t be upset about a damn thing. Not upset with you, anyway.”
She gives me a small smile that’s still a little sad, but she wipes a tear that was gathering in her eye before it can escape. “If you’re sure. I’d love to.”