by Anna Lowe
Destiny. Could it really be true? She’d heard of soul mates, but shifter mates seemed to go beyond that. When she’d first encountered the word in one of Alaric’s books, it sounded crude and possessive. But now, snuggled in Tristan’s arms…
“Mate,” she whispered, trying it out for herself.
He was hers as much as she was his. She could feel it deep in her bones. She’d even sensed it before Tristan had entered the soup kitchen that first night. Her world had shaken in its own little earthquake, as if some force had taken her by the shoulders and said, Brace yourself. This is it.
Destiny?
Then she frowned. Could it just be hormones, making fantasies all too easy to believe?
Tristan rubbed his thumb over hers, and she broke into a huge smile. If it was hormones, then fine. The man could keep stirring them as far as she was concerned.
When she rolled in his arms and murmured, “Good morning,” he lit up.
“Bonjour,” he rumbled, keeping her nice and snug.
A minute passed before their lips met, but it was almost as if they’d been kissing the whole time. Kissing in the way their eyes lingered on each other or in each soft caress. And when their lips actually touched…
Natalie closed her eyes, savoring his oaky taste. Was it all real, or was it a dream?
Then Tristan’s phone chimed, and they both groaned. Tristan stuck an arm over his eyes as the phone rang and rang.
She nudged him. “Are you going to answer that?”
“No,” he declared. Then his face clouded, and his eyes drifted to the phone.
“I don’t mind,” Natalie fibbed.
She would rather have tossed the device out the window, but she knew how it was. That might be Alaric, and duty was duty.
Tristan rolled, grabbed it, and barked a very French, “Allô?”
When he stiffened and sat up, Natalie did, too. Who was on the line?
“When? Where?” Tristan barked. “Now?”
Natalie waited, wondering what was wrong.
“All right. Tell him I’m on my way.” Tristan sighed then threw down the phone.
“Trouble?”
He snorted. “That was Jacqueline, so, yes. Trouble.” He looked pained. “Alaric wants me to report, tout de suite.”
She stroked his arm. She hated to let him go, but orders were orders in the shifter and human world.
Tristan eased his legs over the side of the bed, shaking his head. Then he turned and kissed her — a long, lingering kiss full of fire, longing, and regret.
“Merde. I hate to go,” he murmured barely an inch from her lips.
She hugged him tightly. “For the last few days, I felt so cooped up. Now I’d give anything to be cooped up with you.”
Her body heated at the thought, and Tristan’s eyes sparkled. “Can I take a rain check?”
She grinned, nodding a mile a minute.
He kissed her one more time then sighed. “Somehow, we’ll figure this out. But I’d better get over to Pigalle before I get chewed out.” Then he made a face. “Well, I’ll definitely get my ass chewed out.”
“For what?”
“Breaking orders.”
She furrowed her brow. “Orders?”
“Alaric made it perfectly clear I wasn’t supposed to touch you.”
A wave of anger swept through her. “How about I march over and tell him I wanted to be touched?”
Tristan smiled. “That, I’d love to see.” Then he sobered. “But it doesn’t work that way. Not with shifters. When the alpha gives an order, you follow.”
“Maybe I’m not good at taking orders.”
“Neither am I.” His lips quirked into a brief smile. “But, like Hugo once said, I need to…to…” He motioned vaguely, then went on, mimicking the wolf shifter’s deep voice. “‘Force isn’t always the way. Try finesse.’” Tristan frowned. “I think Clara taught him that. But I’m not sure I have finesse in me.”
Natalie laughed. “You never know.”
He cracked a tiny smile then stood.
She steeled herself to say goodbye, but then a cold draft reached her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood.
Tristan turned immediately. “What is it?”
She tried shaking it off, but the chill persisted. “Nothing. Sorry.” She forced herself to laugh. “Just the thought of you leaving makes me worry about vampires.”
Tristan pulled her closer, armoring the space around her with his body. “They wouldn’t dare. I won’t let them. Besides, you know what to do.”
She snorted. That move he’d taught her? “Sure. One, two, three.” Her voice was surly, but her arms twitched with the sequence Tristan had taught her. Arms snapping up, elbow jab, then a blow to the nose. When she didn’t overthink it, her body knew what to do. But when she consciously imagined herself fending off a vampire, it seemed hopeless.
Reluctantly, Tristan released her. “Anyway, Liam will be keeping an eye on the place, and the doorman, too.”
She knew he was right, but still. She hated to see him go. “Maybe I should come with you.”
Tristan sat beside her. “Think about it. Alaric will be furious, and Marcel is likely to be there. Marcel and whoever else Alaric has lined up for you to choose from.”
His voice was bitter, so she hugged him. “I already know who I want.”
He cupped her cheek. “I know who I want, too.”
For a moment, they stayed close, speaking volumes without uttering a word. But eventually, Tristan pulled back.
“You’ll have to talk to them at some point. But I know they’re going to chew me out. They might even fire me or banish me from the city.” His eyes roamed the room once. Then he shrugged, like none of that mattered, though sorrow filled his eyes.
I can lose this apartment, his expression said. I can lose my job. I can lose living in Paris, but none of that would hurt as much as losing you.
She took his hands and squeezed tightly. “If they want me as their Fire Maiden, they’ll have to listen to me, won’t they?”
He smiled weakly. “If only it were that easy.”
The longer they held each other, the more a warm cloak filled the space around them. Natalie bowed her head, tuning in to the sensation. “Is that part of being mates?”
“Is what?”
She motioned around. “That energy. That heat. The way the world zooms out of focus when I’m around you.”
He nodded. “I think so.”
“So, if destiny wants us together, we’ll be okay, right?”
The pause before his reply worried her. “Destiny has a way of throwing obstacles in a person’s path. But, yes. We’ll be okay.”
Natalie forced her hands not to tremble. Tristan sounded more determined than convinced.
“Anyway,” he said, changing the subject. “I’d rather you didn’t witness me getting reprimanded. You know, to keep my dignity and all.”
She laughed, running her hands over his steely shoulders. “Your dignity, my ass.”
He grinned and dropped his hands to her rear. “You mean this?”
“No, this.” She smacked his rear.
For a moment, they smiled, and it felt good, even if she knew there was trouble ahead. But eventually…
She forced herself not to follow Tristan around like a smitten puppy as he prepared to go. While he showered, she dressed. Then she brewed a couple of strong coffees and held Bijou, pensively stroking his fur.
“Little beast,” Tristan muttered when he ducked to kiss Natalie goodbye.
Bijou jumped away, and Natalie looped her arms around her man. “His loss. My gain.”
She kissed him, wondering if that was how damsels once felt when their knights departed for battle. Then she straightened her shoulders. She was no damsel, and when the time came to face Alaric, she’d give the old dragon a piece of her mind.
She hugged Tristan one more time, then all but pushed him to the door to get it over with. “See you soon.”
&n
bsp; Tristan nodded. “See you soon. Stay safe.”
“You too,” she whispered.
The door clicked shut, and she turned all three locks. Then she stood, staring at the door as silent minutes ticked by.
“Tristan,” she whispered, aching all over.
The more time they spent together, the more he felt like part of her. A lot like Paris, in a way. She turned and looked out the windows, hugging herself. When Bijou wound around her ankles, she picked him up.
“Why can’t you and Tristan get along?” she scolded.
Bijou put on a miserable look that said, Because he’s so mean.
Natalie nuzzled him. “Tristan is not mean. He’s sweet. Kind. Considerate.”
The fact that Bijou kept nuzzling probably meant he wasn’t paying attention, but Natalie continued anyway.
“Tristan cares. He’s honorable. He does the right thing — or, he tries to.” She smiled. Tristan might not always get things right, but he did try.
Bijou wiggled out of her arms and jumped to the floor, then meowed and led the way to the kitchen.
“You already ate.”
Bijou sauntered on, and Natalie laughed, following him. “I wish I could get away with eating every time I thought of it.”
She picked out a packet of beef flavor — Bijou’s favorite — and scooped it carefully into the dish while the cat studied her every move. The moment Natalie stepped aside, Bijou rushed in as if some no-good dragon had left him to starve for days. But a moment later, he tensed and whirled, ready to flee at a noise at the door.
Natalie nearly laughed. Maybe Tristan was returning sooner than she’d hoped. That would be nice.
Then a cold finger of air sliced into the room, and she tensed. Bijou rushed for the rooftop. Outside, birds stopped singing, and Natalie stood still, her heart thumping away.
What? What was going on?
The feeling was so eerie, she backed away at the footsteps approaching the front door rather than rushing forward in anticipation of seeing Tristan again.
Not Tristan, the hairs on the back of her neck said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A knock sounded.
Natalie slowly put the spoon in the sink, afraid to make a sound.
“Il y a quelqu’un?” a woman called through the door. Anybody there?
Natalie gripped the edge of the counter. Jacqueline?
Still, Natalie didn’t move. Jacqueline was the last person she wanted to see. Plus, there was that icy sensation in the air. A warning that zipped through every on-edge nerve in her body.
She shivered. Vampire?
“Hello?” Jacqueline demanded in English.
Natalie held perfectly still. Maybe Jacqueline would go away if she thought no one was there.
The doorknob rattled, and Natalie nearly jumped. Jacqueline wasn’t just checking if the door was open. She was testing its strength.
“We know you’re in there, little human. Let us in,” another voice called.
Natalie froze. Was that Olivier? But, wait. Why would Jacqueline be with a rogue vampire? And why had the doorman let them in? God, where was Liam?
Tristan, she wanted to scream.
But Tristan had been gone at least a quarter of an hour, and with a Metro station so close to the building, he could be halfway across Paris.
“Of course she’s in there,” Jacqueline snipped. “I can smell her.” She raised her voice. “I can smell you. I can—” Her voice broke off, and an ominous silence set in. “I smell Tristan all over you. Good Lord, girl. How on earth did he fall for your charms when you have none?”
“She does have royal blood,” Olivier murmured.
Natalie shivered, picturing the vampire licking his lips. At the same time, the heat of anger burned her cheeks. Tristan wasn’t interested in royal anything. He loved her for her own sake.
“Well, I’m sure you enjoyed it. Tristan never disappoints,” Jacqueline said with a knowing sigh. “On the other hand, he did leave rather quickly. Perhaps you disappointed him?” She laughed. “But of course. How could a man possibly be satisfied with you?”
Natalie balled her hands but kept her mouth shut.
“Let me in so I can tell you the truth about Tristan. What he’s really after.”
He isn’t after anything, Natalie wanted to scream. But somehow, her insecurities welled up, making her stomach churn. What if it had all been an act? What if Tristan had an ulterior motive for sleeping with her?
“He’s using you, sweetheart, just like he tried to use me.”
Natalie covered her ears. Jacqueline had the tongue of a serpent. If there was any truth in her words, it was that she had used Tristan.
“Ouvre la porte!” Olivier called. Open the door!
Natalie glanced at the kitchen knives. One was wickedly long and sharp, and another was three inches wide. But neither would stop a vampire, would it?
She took the long one, trying to think rationally. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe Morfram had found Olivier and disciplined him, and Jacqueline was about to explain that Natalie’s nightmare was over.
The chills running down her spine told a different story, though. She was anything but safe.
She glanced around, desperate for a way out. Following Bijou to the roof wouldn’t help, not unless she could hop from ledge to ledge like a cat — or soar away like a dragon. Jacqueline and Olivier were at the door, so that was out. Which left…
Slowly, she turned to the rear corridor. There was the back stairwell — the dim, creepy one.
She faced the small door for a full minute without making a move. Then the front door shook with a blow powerful enough to make Tristan’s jar of coins rattle, and she hurried forward.
“I want your blood. I need it. And I will have it,” Olivier snarled.
Natalie rushed over and yanked open the back door. Then she paused, contemplating the dark, eerily silent shaft. Did she really want to spiral eight stories down through that?
Olivier banged on the front door, and she spun again. Did she have a choice?
“Bijou,” she whispered, hoping for some company.
But the cat had fled, and it was time she did the same. So she took a deep breath and stepped onto the creaky staircase, closing the door behind her and fumbling for a lock. There didn’t seem to be one, so after another minute of gathering her nerves, she started the descent.
Tap, tap, tap. She winced at the echo of her steps through that huge, empty space. Keeping her right hand on the banister, she spiraled around and around, counting floors as she went. Seventh floor…sixth floor…fifth—
Several stories above, the penthouse door flew open, and a beam of light shone in.
“Now, now. Do you really want to make this so hard on yourself?” Jacqueline called.
Natalie moved faster, trying to keep her steps quiet. But that was futile, and she quickly gave up on anything but racing down as fast as she could.
Fourth floor…third…
Arctic air whooshed down the stairs behind her, hounding her as she went.
First floor…ground floor…
She rushed for the lobby door, then froze. The small, one-way window showed three men in the lobby, all clad in black. Not Yves, nor another doorman she recognized. Not Liam either. Just those three…vampires?
She backed away as one whirled, sniffing. Oh God. Were Liam and Yves all right?
Move, a little voice insisted. Now.
She ran back to the stairs and hurried down.
“Run, little one. Run,” Olivier taunted from above. “It makes your blood pump and fill the air.”
Disgusted, Natalie raced on, trying to remember what came next. A corridor with two forks. She raced down the left one. Soon, she’d pop out the secret entrance to the alley. Then she could run to the Metro, hop on a train, and escape. Ideally, to Pigalle, where Tristan had gone.
But a second set of footsteps sounded ahead, making her halt in her tracks.
“Oh, that blood.
I can already taste it,” a man murmured in lusty French.
“So, get moving,” a second man urged.
Natalie’s heart pounded. Jacqueline and Olivier were coming down the stairs behind her. At the same time, two more vampires cut off the way to the Metro. That left her no choice but to hurry back to the fork on the right. There, she pulled up short, staring into the darkness.
The catacombs. The place of the dead.
Not the part open to tourists, Tristan had said in a tone so grim, it still echoed in her mind. But what choice did she have?
She hurried down that tunnel, only to come out at an iron gate. Grabbing the bars, she rattled it. The narrow space amplified the grating sound, and she winced.
“So close,” one of the vampires called in glee.
Natalie yanked at the chain that kept the gate locked, then reached blindly along a rock ledge. Her skin crawled as she groped around, finding a damp cloth…spider webs…a small metal stick figure…
No, wait. That was a skeleton key. She nearly cheered. Did it fit the lock?
Her hands shook so hard, she could barely fit the key into the lock. The vampires’ footsteps grew louder, and she cursed. But finally, the lock creaked open. When she pulled the chain through the gate, it made a loud, scraping sound.
Come and get me, it might as well have advertised.
She rushed through the gate then turned and wrapped the chain around it again. That might help, right?
A pair of glowing red eyes appeared at the end of the tunnel. “Get her!”
She fumbled, nearly giving up. But at the last possible second, she got the lock on the chain and closed it with a sharp click.
“Got you!” A hand reached through the gate.
Natalie jumped back, heart thumping in terror.
“My pretty,” Olivier murmured, grasping for her hand.
Natalie nearly screamed. When her legs finally registered her command to run, she stumbled backward. Then she caught herself and ran into the catacombs.
Into the realm of the dead.
Within a few steps, the tunnel split, and she took a blind guess on the right side. If she squinted, she could just make out her feet. When she tossed the skeleton key down a side tunnel, it pinged, making her wince. Worse was the ear-splitting rattles of the gate and the angry voices of those trying to break through.
