by S. J. West
“A few.” I must look as crestfallen as I feel because Julian smiles. “I promise you they will be fun, and by the end of the day, you’ll be happy and completely satisfied in every way possible.”
He looks so cute having all his little surprises up his sleeve that I instantly let go of my disappointment. A fun day with the man I love sounds like heaven.
Julian takes a step back and grabs hold of one of my hands.
“Come on,” he says with a little tug on my arm and a sweet smile lighting up his face that would make even a shriveled up heart burst with life again. “Let’s go have some fun.”
When we walk out of Mira’s home, I see a champagne-colored Mercedes limo parked where I left my little Camry.
“Where’s my car?” I ask Julian, not seeing it parked anywhere on the circular driveway.
“It’s in the garage,” he replies as we walk down the steps toward the car and the awaiting driver dressed in a black suit and tie. “This is one of Mira’s vehicles.”
“And why are we using it and not my car?” I ask.
“I didn’t want you to have to drive us everywhere, and it’s always nice to have someone who’s familiar with a city to take you where you need to go. I thought it would save us some time. Is it all right?”
I nod, agreeing with Julian’s decision.
Julian and I sit in the back, which has two rather plush, commander-style leather seats. Nadia sits up front with the driver. Viktor immediately jumps out of Nadia’s arms and into the back so he can ride to our next destination on my lap.
As the chauffeur drives the car away from Mira’s house and merges onto the street, I ask Julian, “Where are we going first?”
“For my first surprise, we’ll need to change clothes,” he informs me. “Mira arranged for us to stay in a condominium in the French Quarter. She also sent someone out to buy us some clothing and other supplies that we’ll need for the rest of the day.”
“Is this a condo she owns personally?” I have to ask. It might sound weird, but I don’t want my first time with Julian to be in a bed that Mira might have used with her own sexual partners. Call me crazy, but that just seems wrong on so many levels.
“No,” Julian assures me, sensing my unease. “It’s not one she’s ever personally stayed in. It belongs to a friend of hers. He rents it out for an exorbitant nightly fee during Mardi Gras and Saints’ games. It’s standing empty at the moment, so she was able to procure it for our night here.”
“What kind of clothes do we need to change into for this first surprise of yours?”
“Just T-shirts and shorts. I wouldn’t want you to get too hot and sweaty in your dress.”
“I don’t mind being either of those things for the right reason,” I tease.
Julian looks over at me and smiles. “Neither do I.”
“I don’t suppose you would be willing to give me another hint,” I say, trying to pry out as much information as I can.
“Hmm.” Julian thinks over my request before saying, “Well, without giving anything away, you should plan on the first surprise lasting about three hours.”
“Three hours?” I say in slight dismay. “I hope you intend to feed me before we start this secret adventure of yours.”
“Mira assured me that the kitchen in the condo is fully stocked with food, so there should be plenty there for you to eat.”
“Exactly when did she have time to make all these preparations for us?”
“I asked her to get things ready when I called her this morning. I wasn’t sure how the council meeting would go, so I decided not to tell you until after things were settled. Now that we know the wolf acted on his own, I think we’re safe here in the city.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say doubtfully. “Damien and Audrey looked pretty upset after the meeting. You don’t think they’ll try to take their anger out on us, do you?”
“I seriously doubt it.” Julian’s face darkens at just the thought of the werewolves seeking retaliation. “They know better.”
“I don’t understand why the wolves, witches, and warlocks in this city stay here. Why don’t they move somewhere else? Having the council dictate how they live has to be aggravating.”
“They’ll never leave,” Julian says confidently.
“But that doesn’t make any sense to me. Why don’t they want to get away from such an oppressive situation?”
“You need to think of New Orleans as a nexus for magical power,” he explains. “The creatures who are born and raised here are some of the most powerful supernatural beings in the world. You won’t find a greater well of magic anywhere else.”
“Why is that?”
“No one has been able to figure that out yet. It’s just always been that way.”
“So people who rely on magic stay here so they can be more powerful than their counterparts in other parts of the world.”
“Like most things in life, the decisions people make always come down to either money or power. In this case, it’s power.”
“Then they only have themselves to blame for remaining inside Mira’s trap.”
“Yes. They can move away at any time, as long as they’re not being reprimanded by the council, like the werewolves are now.”
“I don’t think we should ever live in this city,” I say sincerely. “Promise me we won’t.”
“You have my word that we will never live in New Orleans,” Julian says, laying his right hand palm up on the console between us.
I place my left hand on his to seal the deal.
Our driver seems to know exactly where he needs to go, which is really the whole point of having him. As we make our way down Conti Street, I look out the window, noting how old the buildings look. It’s not really a surprise, though, when you consider the fact that the French Quarter is the oldest neighborhood in New Orleans. For the past three hundred years, it’s served as the beating heart of the city and a destination for lovers of all ages. To be honest, I’ve always found New Orleans to be a strange mixture of cultural taboos, history, fine dining, and, on occasion, filth. But that last one really depends on where you venture to in the city. If you stay in the populated tourist areas, most things are kept clean and tidy. It’s when you wander off the beaten path that you need to watch where you step.
Our driver pulls the car up to one of the well-lit and clean alleyways you find between the historical buildings in the French Quarter.
“Wait here for us,” Julian tells the driver before opening his door and getting out of the car. I pick Viktor up in my arms and exit the limo too. Nadia is already standing on the sidewalk, scanning the surrounding area, when I close the car door behind me.
“This way, ladies,” Julian says as he starts to walk down the alleyway toward the side of the peach-colored stone building to the right of us. There’s an electronic keypad on the wall near a white metal door. Once Julian inputs the correct code, a buzzer sounds and the lock disengages. Being the gentleman that he is, Julian holds the door open for us to enter in before him.
We step into a small, dimly lit room that leads to a single elevator. There’s only one button on the wall beside the elevator to push, so Nadia presses it for us. The steel door opens, and we all move inside. The elevator travels up one level before opening its doors. We step out into a bright foyer with hardwood floors and a small crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling. A single hallway leads out of the room. When we walk into it, I immediately spy the master suite to the left.
“My room, I presume,” I announce, stepping across the threshold to claim a space that is almost as large as my apartment.
Julian follows in behind me. “Ours, if you’re willing to share.”
I turn around to meet his gaze and scrunch my face up just enough to look as if I’m considering his proposition very seriously.
“I suppose I can share it with you,” I say, trying my best to sound reluctant, “but I have to warn you that I can be very demanding.”
“Really?” Julian questions, sounding intrigued. “And just what kind of demands do you make of your roommates?”
“They vary,” I reply coyly. “Sometimes I like hugs. Sometimes I might want to be kissed, and sometimes a nice massage might be called for. Every once in a while, I might demand all three.”
Julian folds his arms over his chest as if he’s contemplating what I’ve said before making a full commitment.
“I suppose I can handle all of those. I’ve been told I give a very good massage.”
“You should also know that when you boast about being good at something, I will demand proof of said boast.”
“Anytime.” He smiles.
“I assume I’m supposed to take one of the other guest rooms?” Nadia asks us from the doorway.
“There should be two additional bedrooms down the hall,” Julian tells her. “Choose whichever one you like the most.”
Nadia nods. “Thanks. I’m also going to do a quick check around the place. So if the two of you could stay in here for another minute, I would appreciate it.”
I know I should be interested in seeing the rest of the property too, but the bedroom we’re in is so pretty I consider just spending our entire visit inside it. The walls are exposed red brick, and the floor is a white-washed wood. To the left of the entryway is a living area with a large blue brocaded chaise lounge that’s as wide and long as a twin-sized bed. There’s a TV mounted on the wall directly across from it and a small fireplace with a white marble mantel built into the space between two long and narrow windows. To the right of me is a four-poster, wrought iron king-sized bed covered with a silky royal purple comforter and a mound of matching decorative pillows. There are also a few plastic bags from various clothing stores and a black rectangular box tied with strips of red ribbon on the bed. I can only assume the bags contain the clothing Julian asked Mira to procure for us for our visit.
Julian walks over to the bed and riffles through the bags to peer at their contents. He picks up three of the five bags and turns to me to say, “There seems to be a large selection of shorts, T-shirts, and shoes for you to choose from. I would advise wearing a pair of tennis shoes and cool clothing that won’t restrict your movements. I’ll go give Nadia her change of clothes and switch into something more appropriate too.”
“So we’re doing something physical?” I ask as Julian starts to walk out of the room.
“I’m not giving you any more hints,” he says stubbornly.
“Oh, come on,” I practically beg. “Just one more hint. That’s all I ask.”
Julian stops just outside the doorway and turns to face me.
He considers my request before saying, “You’ll be riding something that’s hard for three hours straight, and that’s the last clue you get.”
He winks at me with a mischievous look on his face before continuing to walk down the hallway.
“Too bad you said something and not someone,” I whisper irritably.
“I heard that!” Julian calls from down the hall, sounding amused by my complaint.
“I know you did,” I reply in a normal voice. The room may be empty, but I know Julian can still hear every word I utter with his super-hearing. “You should also know that when the time comes for me to ride something of my choosing, we’ll need more than three measly hours together.”
Julian doesn’t answer back, but he doesn’t have to. I remember his words from the previous night quite clearly, and I don’t intend to be rushed in my exploration of his body when we finally do make love. Three hours definitely won’t be enough for what I have planned.
Viktor hops onto the bed and immediately pokes his head inside one of the shopping bags to snoop around.
“Unless you’re secretly a cross-dresser,” I tell him, closing the bedroom door, “I don’t think you’re going to find anything of interest to you in those bags.”
Viktor lifts his face out of the black bag he is examining and tilts his head from side to side as he says, “Meow, meow.”
I translate his meows into meaning a rather sarcastically phrased ‘very funny.’
“I know I’m funny,” I reply. “I crack myself up all the time. Now, turn around and face the bathroom door so I can change clothes, or I’ll make you wait out in the hallway while I get dressed.”
Viktor does as I order without delay.
I pick out a pair of white shorts and a yellow tank top to wear to Julian’s first surprise of the day. Although if it’s going to last three hours, it seems as though our first adventure will use up what’s left of the afternoon. I find a pair of white Nikes and some socks in one of the other bags and quickly slip them on. When I walk into the bathroom to use the facilities, I notice an array of hair and makeup products laid out for my use on the countertop next to the sink. I decide to put my hair up in a ponytail since our first activity is supposedly a physical one. Considering the heat and humidity outside, I don’t need to wear my hair down like a blanket against my neck and shoulders.
When I open the door to leave the bedroom, Viktor leaps off the bed in one fluid motion and trails along beside me down the hallway toward the sound of Julian and Nadia having a quiet conversation. At the end of the hall, I discover a large airy room with an open floor plan that is divided into three distinct spaces: a living room area, a dining room, and a kitchen. The furnishings are a tasteful mixture of soft upholstery in earthy tones mixed with brown leather accent chairs.
Julian and Nadia are both standing at the kitchen island busily preparing sandwiches. They must have just started because I only see about ten of them set out on a white china platter. Their paltry offering of food isn’t going to be enough if they intend for it to be my overdue lunch. I notice that Nadia has changed out of her one-woman arsenal apparel into a pair of black bike shorts and a matching tank top. Around her waist is a black fanny pack, which seems like an odd fashion statement for her until I take a moment to think about the purpose for such an accessory. Considering the fact that she can’t openly wear a weapon out in public, I assume the fanny pack’s sole purpose is to conceal a small handgun.
Julian is dressed in a sky blue athletic T-shirt and white shorts. When I walk into the room, he looks up at me and smiles, causing my heart to flutter as I return the gesture.
“I hope you like ham and cheese sandwiches, because that’s what we’re making you,” he informs me as he uses a butter knife to spread a large dollop of mayonnaise across the piece of white bread in his hand.
“I’m so hungry right now I would eat a pickled pig’s foot if that’s all we had,” I declare as I walk into the kitchen area and pick up one of the sandwiches from the platter. I have it inside my stomach in literally five seconds flat.
Nadia stares at me with eyes wide, like she just witnessed a Jesus miracle.
“What?” I ask, becoming self-conscious under her open scrutiny.
“I barely saw you chew,” she says in awe. “How did you eat that so fast?”
“Extreme hunger?” I retort, not quite sure what kind of answer she’s expecting from me. “Listen, if you’re going to be around me twenty-four seven, you need to understand that I eat a lot and I eat it fast.”
“Julian warned me about your dietary requirements, but I had no idea …” Nadia’s voice trails off as if she’s lost the ability to think of anything else to say.
“You’ll get used to it,” I tell her as I reach for another sandwich. “If I don’t eat enough to satisfy my hunger, I’ll get grouchy, and neither of you want to experience that kind of trauma. Trust me.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Nadia readily agrees.
“Eat up,” Julian encourages. “We only have half an hour to get to our next destination.”
I do as I’m told and eat the twenty sandwiches they make for me in record time. Julian gives me a large glass of ice water to wash it all down with. I set out a bowl of water and dry cat food for Viktor before we head out the door. He looks at the dry food a bit dubiously, s
o I politely inform him that beggars can’t be choosers. At least he has something to eat if he begins to starve.
After we get back into the car, Julian tells our driver an address I don’t recognize. It’s not until we pull up to a spot down by the river that I see what Julian’s first surprise of the day is going to be.
“A bicycle tour?” I ask him as we get out of the limousine. I look up at the green and gold glitter sign mounted over the glass front doors of a mustard yellow building that reads Greater NOLA Bike Tours.
“I’ve never seen much of the city,” Julian tells me. “I thought it would be fun to explore it together.”
“I don’t think I’ve ridden a bicycle since I passed the age of puberty,” I say, feeling uneasy about getting on one after so many years.
“Well, you know what they say,” he tells me. “Once you learn how to ride a bike, you never forget.”
“And what if you’ve never ridden a bike before?” Nadia asks. “Does it take very long to learn how?”
“Seriously?” I ask, somewhat amused by the concept. “You’ve never ridden a bicycle in your life?”
“No, Your Highness,” she replies irritably. “Bicycles aren’t something we have in Alfheim, and even if we did, I would have been too busy learning how to fight so I can do my job and keep you alive.”
“Okay, okay, don’t get your panties all in a wad. It’s not that hard to learn how to ride one,” I tell her, even though I remember it being quite difficult to learn how when I was a kid. That was probably because I had the coordination of a monkey walking across a bed of banana peels when I was six. Nadia has the advantage of being a trained fighter. Surely all those years spent honing her body to move just the way she wants it to will come in handy in this situation.
After our tour guide assigns us our own yellow ten-speed bikes, Julian and I give some basic pointers to Nadia on how to ride. She listens intently and seems to understand what we’re telling her. Since we have a few minutes before the tour actually begins, Nadia sits on the seat of her bike and pushes off for the very first time in her life. At first, she wobbles a bit, but she quickly readjusts her weight to regain her balance and takes off down the street like she’s ridden a bicycle all her life.
