Pandemic Passion
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Pandemic Passion
Amanda Kimberly
CHBB Publishing
Contents
Pandemic Passion
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
About the Author
Follow Amanda Kimberly
Other Books by Amanda Kimberley
To all of my fans that understand loss. We are all family.
Pandemic Passion
Lorring Laurent is in desperate need to apologize for the one mistake he’s ever regretted in life, ghosting Dixie Martin, his one true love. But once the pandemic hits the world and an alien shifter race comes to take over the Earth, will Dixie be ready to accept it?
1
“Hi, Dixie Martin. I have a reservation here for this weekend and I was wondering if you could help me with acquiring a taxi to take me to,” Her voice trailed as she spills the entire contents of her purse in front of the concierge. “My God! I mean, mon Dieu! Wait! I’m sorry! I’m not normally this scatter-brained.” She says while fishing through the mess for her dictionary. “And, of course, you probably don’t care about that because I’m babbling away in English and I should be speaking to you in French. Where is my damned French-English Dictionary! How do you say? I mean, Quel est le mot pour?” She says as she quickly thumbs through her dictionary for a word that completely escaped her memory.
It had been years since she had ever had to speak French. She had stopped speaking the language the minute she left for college in America because no one there—not even the foreign exchange students spoke it. She loved the language because it was sexy as hell, but her accent lost its glittering luster once she left the country behind.
“AH! Taxi! Bien Sûr! I mean, of course!”
“Où avez-vous besoin d’aller? Uh, where do you need to go?” The man with pearly white teeth said in perfect French, but broken English. Like most men in the city, he appeared to be gorgeous, thin, and well-mannered to all the tourists that always irritated the most patient of natives. Not all tourists had bad behaviors, but the ones from America always proved to be the most irritating. Never wanting to blend in, never trying to learn the culture through speaking the language. And you could always pick out an American before they even spoke—their sneakers were a dead giveaway. No true Parisian would be caught dead wearing sneakers in public! This reason alone is why she packed only her pumps.
His attempt to connect with her and help her in any way he could seemed genuine. And probably because she at least attempted to speak the language as fluently as possible. She really didn’t think it had been that long that she stopped using the language, but her 10-year high school reunion provided a glaring reminder that it had, in fact, been a long time. She could tell by the wrinkle forming at the corner of his brow that he was not amused with her befuddled, broken accent. It seemed the more broken French she spoke, the more irritated he became.
It had been more than a few years since she’d been to Paris, France. The last time she was here, she’d been a senior in high school. She accepted an international student visa to go to Cal Tech after she recovered from the accident, and once she left Paris and her ex Lorring for college, she never looked back. There really wasn’t a need to even miss the place until now.
Her best friend Cherry begged her to come to their 10-year high school reunion so much so that that was all Cherry talked about during their weekly Zoom calls. They started them during her Freshman year at Cal Tech, and then as the years passed by, they never stopped. It was always on a Friday, and always over a bottle of wine once they both reached the legal drinking age in their respective countries. Dixie, of course, was leery about going because she was afraid she’d run into Lorring, her ex. Lorring also was in their graduating class and was a gorgeous Greek god back then, and she figured he was probably more gorgeous now. The thought of seeing him made all the old feelings of resentment come back up like heartburn. A slow burn that starts in your sternum and rises like a wildfire up your throat. He could have dampened those feelings with just one phone call back then. But after 10 years it’s hard to think anything he would say was anything short of fanning the flames.
She didn’t have to give the reunion much thought at all. Dixie hated the man and there was no way on Earth she wanted to see him, so she turned Cherry down flat when they first spoke about it. But once Cherry convinced her he wasn’t coming, Dixie decided that the trip might do her some good. Her parents were now long gone after a car accident killed them and rendered her unconscious for months afterward.
The pain of losing them made it difficult to ever think about returning to the city of love because, after all, her heart was shattered from the horrifying experience. It took years before she stopped dreaming about the accident. It was almost as if her mind had a DVR hell bend on replaying the same scene for the rest of her natural life. Hence—why she never looked back once she went off to Cal Tech. Every street in Paris seemed to remind her of them. Every corner contained a fond memory of her childhood and their doting on her. There wasn’t much tying her down to going back to Paris to visit, even during college breaks. She really didn’t have anyone left but Cherry to visit, so she made the best of her home in the USA and video chatted with Cherry every chance she got.
One of the few tangible things she did miss from home was a good cup of café crème. No one in America seemed to understand the cream to espresso ratio that Parisian’s coveted so much, nor did they understand a good strong brew. Very few had a cup without any sugar or cream. And no one made pastries as good as they were in Paris.
“I just want the nearest café. I’m starving for breakfast. Oh! Wait! I should say that in French!” Dixie clutched her stomach as it growled in protest.
“No need. I understand you. Your French is very good. You don’t seem like you are that much of a tourist here—no?”
“I used to live here a long time ago when I was a kid. Is the Café de la Paix still open on Place de l’Opéra?”
“Oui! I mean, yes! I can call for a taxi, mademoiselle.”
“That would be wonderful!”
She turned to the desk and scooped all of her belongings back into her purse and dropped the dictionary in the process of getting the rest in. She let out a sigh while slinging her purse across her shoulder and kneeled down to pick it up. The purse swung down and hit the back of a man’s calf just as the man’s foot stepped on her hand holding the dictionary.
“Excusez!” She said as she snapped back up from the floor once her hand was free. As she did, she hit the man in the chin with her shoulder. “Je suis désolé! Oh my God, that looks like it’s going to smart.” She said to the man now holding his mouth in one of his hands.
“It’s nothing, really.” The man said as he brushed his cheek with his hand. His eyes then widened as they locked onto hers. “Dixie? Is that you? My God! It’s been ages!”
Dixie’s eyes narrowed as her gaze traveled up the length of his body. His abs seemed to press against his paper-thin white dress shirt. His shoulders were very broad and strong, yet gentle enough to take a hold of her if she fainted from merely witnessing the Adonis before her. She didn’t want to admit it herself just yet, but her knees buckled from the idea of his chest pressed against hers. As her gaze settled on the man’s face, she tried to place him but came up blank.
“Dixie Martin, right? We’d gone to high school together?”
His hazel eyes twinkled a smile as he raked a hand through his jet-black hair. His lips broadened into a knowing smile—the smile looking familiar. He appeared far more distinguished than the baby-faced kid she remembered.
Her eyes widened as the reality set in, and she placed a hand to her mouth.
Shit! The one person I didn’t want to see on this trip!
“Lorring Laurent? Is that you?” She asked even though she already knew the answer.
“Yes, it is! My God! It’s been years!” He said as he took both of her hands in his and squeezed them. He then leaned in to kiss each side of her cheeks, a common practice in Paris but he quickly pushed away before connecting. “Sorry, that’s probably not the best idea due to this pandemic.”
She released her hands from his. A pang of loss welled within her chest as the rejection of him touching her face set in.
“It’s okay, you’re right. Probably not a good idea.” She said in an awkward tone and proceeded to clear her throat.
“Wow, 10 years! Can you believe it? Are you here for the class reunion?”
“Yeah, Cherry begged me to come.” She said as her gaze passed from him to the floor. Her stomach grumbled loudly again, and she clutched it to silence it.
“Where are my manners? You must be starved because of the time difference! Why don’t we grab some coffee together and catch up? It’s been so long, and if I’m honest, I’d been hoping to get a chance to apologize to you. I was such a dick to you back in high school.”
Dixie’s breath hitched as the words dripped from his mouth like honey. They seemed so sweet that they bordered on the cavity level. The last thing she wanted in the world was to be stuck with him for even a minute longer. She found it hard to imagine engaging in 30 or more.
“I already called a taxi. I planned on going to Café de la Paix for some pastries.”
“Ah! the old stomping ground, huh? Mind if I join you?”
YES!
Her insides were screaming the affirmation and begging her mouth to form it, but instead, her heart betrayed her with treason.
“No. I guess that would be fine. It’ll be great to catch up.” She said as she bit her lip and plastered a smile with such a kilowatt of brightness that everyone except him noticed as fake—or at least she figured they would.
You owe me big time, Cherry! BIG TIME!
2
He felt a whack to the back of his leg and tried to step away from it, but it proved too late. He already accidentally stepped on a poor woman’s hand and when he tried to be a gentleman and pick up what she had dropped, she clocked him in his chin with her shoulder. The broad impact surprised him but said impact clearly showed how fit of a person she was.
Once both of them got back up into a standing position, he finally got a good look at her. Her long blonde hair and ocean blue eyes seemed to speak familiarity and his eyes widened when her face stared back at him. Dixie Martin, the only love of his life that mattered, stood before him, and just as gorgeous as ever. 10 years may have passed, but by the look of her, those years seemed to be standing still.
God, how I’ve missed her! Only, she probably didn’t hold as many fond memories about the time we spent together as I do.
He had never wanted to break up with her in high school. He daydreamed often in those times about marrying her once they got out of college. But all of it changed once he came face to face with the Beast of Gévaudan.
It all started out as silly, really. His friends dared him to go to Passy Cemetary in search of ghosts. He was never into all of the paranormal stuff. Frankly, he assumed it was all a bunch of people making up ghost stories minus the campfire.
He wasn’t going to spend a long time there—just long enough to get some kind of mist rolling off the clouds, so his phone appeared to have caught something mysterious. The problem was, he caught more than mist and has also become a believer overnight once he came face to face with the fabled werewolf who wound up biting him.
The damned beast took away his manhood, his sense of being able to control any and all of his emotions. And it was because of the fear of losing himself to his now wolf within, he broke it off with Dixie right before they shipped off to college. His heart shattered at the thought. He didn’t want to let her go, and it was hard to even form the words to leave her. Everything seemed too harsh to him, too final. So, in the end, he wound up ghosting her instead. It wasn’t something he had ever wanted to do to her. It killed him every time a memory of her popped in his head.
And seeing her now brought back all the cowardly feelings he had had back then. Sure, he tried to convince himself he was doing all of this to protect her from him, but in the end, it was just an excuse to keep him from entertaining the idea of being a monster.
But still, the bite signified he could not be trusted. At least, not till he got a handle of his anger. He figured it wouldn’t take all that long to get a hold of his wolf. Most of the stuff he read online said shifters possessed an instant connection with their animal. Of course, he wasn’t born into this like others. A month—maybe two would be what he needed—so he assumed, and then he could go back to Dixie and all would be as it was. Those couple of months turned into years once he met Zhang, a sorcerer, and somewhat of a spiritual healer in the magical community. He met Zhang at a local haunt when he was at Dartmouth and drowning his sorrows into the bottom of a couple of pitchers of beer.
Lorring woke up the night before his bar escapade in what his head experienced as a drunken stupor, but he knew better since he hadn’t had a drop of liquor since he started Dartmouth. He made a promise to himself to have his studies take precedence over partying. Especially because he had wanted to become a doctor. But all of his knowledge of the human body didn’t prepare him for the monster he had become. And it was at that point he came to the conclusion he had to drop out of college and give up his dreams of healing people. All his beast would do was rip a human to shreds.
Zhang was old. The long salt and peppered beard that came to a sharp point gave way to his older wisdom, though Lorring didn’t dare guess at exactly how old Zhang may be. The short salt and peppered hair on his head proved a great match to his beard. The man towering over his bartop reminded him of Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings. All Zhang was missing was the long cape and staff. But something told him that Zhang had those in his possession, even on the day he first met him.
“You shouldn’t drink so much. It will cloud your wolf’s judgment tonight. Wolf’s can get cranky if you feed them too much yeast. It upsets their equilibrium—not to mention their tummy.”
Lorring’s eyes widened.
“You know about my wolf?”
“I possess the skills of understanding many things, clairvoyance is only one of them. The name is Zhang. And you are Lorring, correct?”
“Yes, that is correct. How did you?” Lorring's voice trailed.
“I thought we already established that I’m psychic—did we not? Anyway, why don’t you come with me? I’d be happy to help you control your shifter powers. But not here. You will need to come with me to my cabin. My garden contains herbs that will help squelch the beast within enough for us to start the real training. I will teach you the ancient ways which are the best defense at keeping your wolf at bay.”
“You going to teach me to ‘wax on and wax off, Mr. Miyagi?’”
“Very funny! Did anyone ever tell you you are a comedian? Come! Let’s go.” Zhang said as he took out his wallet and placed several bills on the table.
“I should get that tab. Not you.”
“You can pay me back later if that is what you wish to do, but right now let’s focus on making that tea for you before the moon is full and high in the sky. The last thing we need is for your wolf to hurt an innocent mortal. We don’t need hunters bothering us, or worse, coming after you before I get a chance to work with you.”
“What do you mean—or worse?”
“There are some beings in this world that aren’t exactly human. I am sure you have come to that understanding—correct?”
“Well, for all intents purposes, I’m considered more human than say a shifter that was born a shifter—right? So, what do you mean by things in th
is world that aren’t exactly human?”
“That is sort of what I mean about shifters. Some are more human than others. For instance, Keme is more like a god because his power was given to him. He was not bitten—at least that is how the old myth went. Now that the cat is out of the proverbial bag, it turns out he was just the first werewolf here on Earth. An alien, appearing human, actually bit him. But he’s not my main concern. There are others that concern me more, others like Alec and Lilith.”
“I guess it is better that I’m more human than Keme. Sounds like I won’t have to worry so much about him, but who are Alec and Lilith?”
“Keme won’t bother you. Not if I have anything to say about it. But Lilith and Alec are a different story. They are vampires and they haven’t always agreed with me in the past.”
“So, I take it that I’m not the only one you’ve trained?”
“No. I’ve trained many shifters and the occasional vampire in my days here on Earth. Including Alec and Keme which is why I don’t want to give them reason to come after you.”
“How old are you?” Lorring’s eyes widened at the question that flowed out of his mouth. He didn’t want to ask it out of respect, but now it was too late to take the words back. He followed Zhang to his car. It was a plain SUV in black, something that didn’t seem to fit the personality of the Zhang that Lorring was getting to understand.
“Old enough to possess the knowledge that you should be putting on your seatbelt,” Zhang said as he clicked his own and started the car.
“Wolves may be strong, but they aren’t immortal like vampires. You can die if your head should become separated from your body.”