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His face remains impassive. “Yes. Like I always have been.”
I’m about to mention the time Atlas Poe got me, but that was all my fault, and he still found me in the end.
“Well, you’re not going to like where we’re going,” I tell him, though secretly it warms my heart and sets me at ease to know that no matter where I go, I’ll have him at my side.
He stares at me steadily before having a sip of his drink, his long fingers running over the rim of the glass. “I’m sure I can handle it.”
“I want to go to a bar,” I tell him. “With people my own age. No one over thirty. No vampires.”
He sighs. “Fine,” he says, picking his book back up.
“That means not dressing like you’re James Bond.”
He looks down at himself. He looks damn good, as usual, in a charcoal grey dress shirt, sleeves rolled up showing off his ropey forearms, black pants, but he’ll stick out wherever we go. “I hardly call this something James Bond would wear,” he scoffs.
“What I mean is, you need to dress down. People already stare at you as it is.”
“And that’s a problem?” he asks, a hint of a smile.
“You’re not the only one who’s possessive,” I remind him.
I decide we should leave at eight p.m., better to go a little earlier than later. Solon continues looking through the books though, forever searching for something that might give him a clue of what to do with me. Jeremias’ black magic might come to me naturally, but even that doesn’t want to come out. The earthquake I caused was one created accidently under extreme duress, but I’d been in situations like that since and nothing strange or magical happened.
I put on a light dusting of makeup, pull my hair back into a ponytail, slip on the black dress with the roses that Solon bought for me, and my combat boots and purse, and I go down to meet him by the front door, feeling giddy at the idea of getting out and pretending to be normal, no matter what that might be for me now.
“Ready?” he asks from behind me, and I turn to see him walking up the stairs from Dark Eyes.
“Hot damn,” I tell him, drinking him in. He’s wearing black boots, black jeans, and a V-neck black t-shirt that shows off every impeccable muscle on him. Combined with his black wavy hair, curling up at the ends, and the shadowy brooding look of his eyes, he looks deadly sexy. “This isn’t going to stop people from staring.”
“This is me dressing down,” he says dryly. “Take it or leave it.”
I grin at him and walk over, standing on my tip toes to kiss his cheek. “Oh, I’m taking it.”
He manages a smile at that and puts his arms around me, reaching down to grab my ass, pulling me close to him.
“Where are you going?” Wolf asks, appearing from the kitchen with a glass of red wine in his hand, looking us both over. “Solon, you trying out for the role of Bad Boy number two in a high school musical?”
“We’re going out to have fun,” I tell him, though Solon is less than impressed, shooting him daggers. “Want to come?”
Wolf shakes his head. “Can’t. I have a few Netflix shows to catch up on before the Internet spoils them for me. You kids have fun though.”
He goes up the stairs, snickering all the way.
“This was a mistake,” Solon grumbles.
“No, it’ll be fine,” I tell him, grabbing his arm and dragging him out the door.
At first, I thought we’d maybe travel via the Bla
ck Sunshine, but I’d rather not step in that place if I don’t have to, but then Solon tells me we’re taking his car.
We walk down the side of the house and through the sliding metal gates with gothic spires at the top, to the back where there’s a small garden that Yvonne tends to, plus four shiny black cars, a vintage Mustang, an Audi, a Tesla model S, and a Porsche Cayenne.
“Which one are we taking?” I ask, marveling at all of them.
“It depends, where are we going?”
“The Cloister,” I tell him.
