by Anna Lowe
Next, they came to a huge steel door, where Tristan stopped and listened before pushing through. The room they stepped into was tangled with ducts and wires. That led to another door, which opened to a stairway climbing upward. A short time later, they emerged into an alley.
Natalie gulped as if that were the freshest, cleanest air she’d ever breathed. Overhead, the sky was blue and sunny, just as it had been at the breakfast that felt a million miles and years away. Even Tristan seemed to breathe more freely. When he led her onto the bustling main street, he straightened his collar and deadpanned, “Ah, Paris.”
She laughed. “You’re not fond of tunnels either?”
He shook his head. “I hate them, like all drag—” He cut himself off with a hasty cough and motioned around. “I prefer being in the open air.”
She could relate, although the upward sweep of his hand was funny, almost as if he preferred ballooning or gliding. And who could blame him? It was a beautiful day. Gorgeous, even.
“I prefer it too,” she said, taking in the refreshingly ordinary scene.
It was just another normal spring day in Paris — but that meant magnificent. The streets were lined with trees, the air brisk, and storefronts decorated just so. One displayed clothing that looked too fashionable to wear, and every woman on the street looked just as chic. The scent of freshly baked baguettes wafted from a bakery — the kind of bread you could nibble on as a snack, it was that good. Another shop displayed gold watches, while the next sold secondhand books. All in all, a microcosm of everything Natalie loved about Paris. She closed her eyes to absorb all the impressions, trusting Tristan to guide her along.
“How long have you been in Paris?” he asked.
She opened her eyes, surprised to find him studying her.
“Just six weeks.” Then she laughed. “There was a time when I’d called myself spoiled for saying ‘just’ to six weeks in Paris. But now, I never want to leave.”
She paused, reconsidering. With vampires around, did that still ring true?
Yes and no, she decided. She wasn’t ready to risk her life. Still, the prospect of leaving Paris made her want to dig in her heels and declare, No. I’ll never leave.
Tristan was looking at her — intently, as if trying to read her mind — so she cleared her throat and spoke quickly. “And you? Been in Paris long?”
“On and off for my whole life.”
She waited, eager for more, and gradually, as they walked, Tristan opened up.
“My parents are from Belgium, but I was born here. I moved away at age three, returned when I was six, and left — again — when I was ten…”
Soon, she lost count of how often he’d had to pick up and start over, due to his mother, a deadbeat father, and something about…destiny? He’d made dozens of moves, including several stints in North America.
“California… Michigan… Toronto… Places that had just gotten to feel like home when it was time to move again.”
He said it like it was nothing, but his eyes were wistful. There was a protective spark too — one that flashed whenever he mentioned his mother. Whether she had been on the run from an abusive partner or simply a flaky free spirit, Natalie couldn’t tell. But Tristan’s demeanor was consistent with how he’d stepped in to help her when the vampires appeared.
Even now, his body formed a solid wall at her side, and he glared at any man who strayed close. He kept his hand wrapped around hers, and their sides brushed as they walked. It was nice. Cozy. Comforting — and not just due to the threat of vampires.
She glanced around, but there was no one suspicious on the street. “Can vampires go out in the daytime?”
“Yes. Forget everything in the movies.”
“But they really do suck blood?” Her voice rose with hope. Maybe what Tristan had said earlier was wrong.
His lips turned down. “Yes.”
Her veins ran cold, and she forced herself to change the subject.
“What did you do when you grew up?”
“I joined the Foreign Legion.”
Her jaw dropped. The French Foreign Legion?
He flashed a grim smile. “It was that or the Marines. I thought the Foreign Legion sounded more glamorous.” His expression said, Little did I know, and he sighed. “Anyway, I did my ten years. A few months ago, I wrapped that up and returned to Paris.”
His words were casual, but his intonation said he wasn’t planning to move anytime soon.
Never, his eyes insisted.
Exactly the way she felt. She might not have been born or raised in Paris, but it felt as if she’d been born for Paris. The grand avenues, the winding side streets, the sweeping curves of the river — it all felt like home. All the times she’d been out wandering, she never lost her bearings, and while most of the sights took her breath away, they seemed strangely familiar, too. In college, she’d decorated her room with posters of Paris and watched French films. She’d experimented with French recipes and read everything she could, from Babar to Victor Hugo and even Les Fleurs du mal. Paris felt like home in ways she couldn’t explain.
“Where are we going?”
Tristan gestured north. “To the other side of town.”
She had so many questions. About him. About the Guardians he’d mentioned. About vampires — and other supernaturals. But she was afraid of the answers, so she stuck to silence. Tristan fell into a pensive silence as well.
Eventually, they rounded a corner and descended to a subway station. Not the closest to his apartment, Natalie noticed, as if he’d needed the walk as much as she. But soon, they were riding the number twelve northbound. As the metro car rattled along, Natalie imagined where they were going. Guardians sounded ancient. Important. Imposing. They would have to be if they kept order among supernaturals like vampires. She pictured a villa in a classy neighborhood with a leafy park not too far from the Opera. How rich were they if they could afford to lend out apartments like Tristan’s penthouse?
But the subway chugged through station after station, and Tristan didn’t make a move to exit. Not until—
“Pigalle?” she blurted when he stood.
The metro doors slid open, and Tristan led her out. Down the platform, through the turnstile, and up to street level at another one of those gorgeous Art Nouveau stops.
“Pigalle.” He sighed.
Natalie blinked, looking around. Not a villa in sight, nor a leafy park. The building directly in front of her was adorned with red lights that flashed in the midmorning sunlight. Sex! Sex! Sex!
The next building sported a huge red sign: Sexodrome. The place beside that was labeled The Love Shop.
Natalie shot Tristan a pointed look, but he glumly led her onward. “I’m told the neighborhood isn’t what it used to be.”
Over the next three blocks, Natalie counted twenty-six sex shops, all offering a startling range of toys, gadgets, and garments. She walked briskly, so busy looking-but-not-looking that she nearly bumped into Tristan when he stopped short.
A young, fair-haired man approached them, and Natalie tensed, suddenly on guard.
“Liam,” Tristan said as they thumped each other on the back like a couple of…a couple of…
Soldiers. The word popped into Natalie’s mind. Soldiers who’d faced impossible odds and survived, forming a bond closer than brothers. She watched them closely. Soldiers fit, for sure. Not just their chiseled, ready for anything physiques, but the way their eyes roved their surroundings even as they greeted each other.
“Tristan. You look like hell, man.” Liam laughed.
His accent was English, his grin broad and genuine, as if every day was brilliant and life was great.
“This is Natalie,” Tristan said, giving her name that lyrical French flair she loved.
When Liam leaned in to shake her hand, Tristan growled under his breath, and his friend’s eyes went wide.
“Nice to meet you,” Liam murmured, settling for a quick shake. Then he glanced between her and Trista
n, and his golden-brown eyes said, Interesting. Very interesting.
Natalie nearly fluttered her hands and insisted, It’s not like that. But somehow, she couldn’t get the words out.
“Nice to meet you,” she murmured.
Tristan turned slightly, putting his shoulder between her and Liam in a not so subtle signal to his friend. “For once in your life, you’re on time.”
Liam shook his head. “This is actually the second time in my life.” Then he grinned at Natalie and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone.”
She smiled. Liam had an infectious charm. The kind of guy who could keep your spirits high no matter the circumstances. He was big, too — as tall as Tristan, and even broader in the shoulders. Still, she wondered when he and Tristan had agreed to meet. Tristan had made exactly one phone call before leaving the apartment and that was to the Guardians, whoever they were.
Tristan tilted his head, and Liam went ahead, coordinating their movements with the wordless precision of soldiers who’d completed dangerous missions around the globe. Natalie followed them with a gulp. Was she on a dangerous mission now too?
The sidewalks were full of tourists, but even those intent on gawking at the shops or taking selfies scrambled out of the way. Between Liam’s leonine grace and Tristan’s powerful, Don’t fuck with me stride, they made an imposing pair, indeed. Natalie hurried along, still gripping Tristan’s hand.
Liam must have caught her looking at the shops, because he pointed across the street. “That’s my favorite one. Pussy’s.” Then he winced as if he realized how that sounded. “Pussy’s as in possessive, not plural. Like a cat. And I meant my favorite name, not my favorite sex shop. Oh, bugger. I mean…”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
“Right,” Liam agreed.
Natalie giggled. Liam certainly helped to keep her mood light. Apparently, he wasn’t one to remain silent for long. After a few seconds, he piped up again.
“So.” He thumped Tristan on the back and asked Natalie cheerily, “Has this dragon shown decent manners so far?”
Natalie halted in her tracks. Dragon?
Tristan stopped too, shooting Liam a murderous look.
Realization dawned over Liam’s face. “Wait. You didn’t tell her?”
Tristan stuck out his jaw.
The blood drained from Natalie’s face. “Didn’t tell me what?”
Chapter Eight
Tristan and Liam exchanged awkward glances while one word echoed through Natalie’s mind. Dragon. Liam had definitely said dragon. Had he been kidding?
No, he hadn’t, judging by the way he shrank back from Tristan’s furious face.
“Didn’t tell me…what?” she demanded, going from fearful to angry.
The nearest three pedestrians turned at her near-shout. Tristan took her arm, bustling her into a side street, where he stopped and glared at Liam. Finally, he kicked the ground and explained. “I mentioned supernaturals…”
Natalie tossed up her hands. “You mentioned a lot of things.”
Tristan frowned at the ground, then met her eyes, looking more like a schoolboy than a big, tough, secret-service type.
“I told you about vampires. But there are other supernaturals, like shapeshifters.”
She looked from one man to the other. Were they nuts?
“Like werewolves,” he explained. “But we come in all kinds.”
She froze. “We?”
Liam smiled, and Natalie’s eyes went wide.
Tristan nodded slowly. “We.”
Her knees trembled, and her jaw went slack. He wasn’t pulling her leg, was he?
“Bears…lions…gargoyles,” Tristan said in a detached, impersonal way.
Natalie glanced up, startled. “Wait. Gargoyles? As in, stone statues that come alive?”
Liam shook his head. “They’re always alive. They just hide it well.”
Was he kidding?
Something assured her he wasn’t. Not at all.
She turned to Tristan. “Is that what we saw last night? A gargoyle?”
He nodded silently, then spoke, looking pained. “Shifters have two forms — human and animal, or stone and winged creature, in the case of gargoyles.”
She stared. He wasn’t kidding. At all.
Then a stray thought hit her, and she put her hand over her mouth, shocked. “Did they have anything to do with the fire at Notre Dame?”
Tristan shook his head quickly. “On the contrary, they tried to stop it. But they were too late.”
“There is a rival dragon clan, though,” Liam chimed in. “The Lombardis. They didn’t start the fire, but they did write a nastygram saying they wished—”
Tristan smacked his arm, and Liam blurted, “Hey!”
Natalie clenched her hands tightly. Rival dragons? Gargoyles? Vampires? She pointed one shaky finger at Liam.
“What about you?”
He thumped his chest and replied oh-so-casually. “Lion.”
Tristan looked like he wanted to cover his face with his hands.
Natalie had no idea what to think. It was crazy to believe Liam, but something about his blond, windblown hair and golden eyes could pass for a lion’s.
Then she turned to Tristan. God, she’d spent the night at his place!
“You too?” she whispered as her mind galloped away.
The night Tristan had fought the vampires in the alley, there had been a roar of fire, but he hadn’t had a flamethrower. His lips had been chapped, too. Could he really turn into a…a…
“Dragon,” Tristan whispered.
Her heart thumped, and her knees trembled. Of course, the notion shocked her. But at the same time, it fit. Those broad shoulders, those intent eyes. The power that practically crackled every time he moved.
Still, she couldn’t quite process the news. “Dragon?”
Liam leaned in with a grin. “He can breathe fire and everything.”
Tristan clenched his jaw. “Not helpful, idiot.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Natalie looked from one to the other. Their words ought to have made her protest, but somehow, it all made sense. “That time in the alley… The fire…”
Tristan nodded slowly. “I couldn’t shift in the open, but I had to do something.”
She ran a finger over her lips, picturing how chapped his had been.
“You can fly? You can breathe fire?”
“Great party trick,” Liam chipped in.
Tristan smacked his arm.
Natalie tilted her head. “You’re tricking me, right?”
“I would never trick you.” Tristan’s eyes glowed, and his voice was so earnest, there was no doubting his conviction.
“Prove it,” she finally declared, sounding braver than she felt.
Tristan’s jaw tightened, and she was sure he was about to protest. But a moment later, he pulled her into the shade of a tree. The space around him shimmered, and the arm he held out began to change.
“Uh, Tristan…” Liam warned. “Here? Now?”
“Here. Now,” Tristan muttered.
Natalie stared as his fingers extended. The skin around them stretched, forming webbing, while his fingernails grew sharper, longer, and darker. His face began to change too, with his ears pulling into points and his jaw lengthening.
Then, as smoothly as he’d started, he reversed the process and stood quietly, waiting for her to react.
She gulped. Surely, she should run…scream…insist on seeing how the trick worked. But as surely as she knew she belonged in Paris, she knew it was all real. That didn’t keep her knees from trembling, though.
She forced herself to nod. “What else can you do?”
“We heal quickly. Not much else.”
Changing shapes, flying, and breathing fire seemed like plenty to her. But just in case…
“No burning down houses? No pillaging villages?”
“Not in the last few c
enturies.” Liam laughed. “But I’m told my great-grandfather Toby once—”
Tristan cut him off with a thump to the arm, then faced Natalie. “Listen, there are good and bad shifters, just like there are good and bad people. Most of us just want to live and let live. And some of us…”
She waited, holding her breath.
Tristan and Liam exchanged cryptic glances.
“Some of us work hard to maintain peace,” he finally finished.
A protest jumped to the tip of her tongue. How could fire-breathing dragons be peaceful? Then again, it did fit Tristan’s actions, his military service… His whole aura, really.
So, wow. She’d spent the night in a dragon shifter’s apartment. Which meant…
“Madame Colette?” she asked in a shaky voice.
Tristan sighed. “Eagle shifter. They’re very bossy.”
“What about Bijou?”
Tristan snorted. “Just a cat.”
Natalie exhaled. If he’d just told her she’d spent the night cuddled up beside a shifter, she would have flipped.
Liam motioned ahead. “We should get going.”
Natalie hesitated, as did Tristan, watching her with eyes that pleaded, Please trust me. I want to help you.
The crystal around her neck warmed, and a deep, authoritative voice whispered in her mind. You can trust him. You must trust him.
Natalie gathered all her courage and stuck a finger at Tristan’s chest. “From now on, no secrets. You got that?”
He nodded solemnly. But then a pained expression crossed his face. “Then I guess I should tell you the people we’re about to meet are shifters, too.”
She forced herself to breathe evenly. “Shifters who can help me?”
“Yes. At least, I think so.”
“You think so?”
“They’re the Guardians of Paris. If they can’t help…” He trailed off.
No one can, Natalie filled in.
But Tristan took her hand, giving her a shot of confidence. “If they can’t help, I’ll figure something else out. I promise.”
Liam waved them onward. “Come on already.”
