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The fact that he can’t just enjoy this beautiful day is horrible. Yet another reason why I’m not inclined to turn. What’s the point in living if you can’t enjoy a beautiful sunny day? There is none, in my opinion.
“Julian, do you want to put the top up? If the sun is bothering you, I don’t want it down.”
“No, I’m fine. Enjoy yourself.”
I sit back, crossing my arms over my chest at his insistence to burn himself for our pleasure. Peering at him through the rearview mirror, I get chills. There’s something crazy sexy about Julian in a hat with a pair of Ray-Bans. He looks so normal—though warm. Thankfully, there’s a good enough breeze with the top down, it’s probably not that bad for him.
We’re driving down country roads when houses start to appear more frequently, and before too long we’re approaching a sign for Albita Springs. We pass through the small town lined with cafés and trinket shops until we’re on the outskirts, pulling up to a large white home with black shutters, surrounded by a white picket fence. Stacey and I exchange looks.
“All right ladies, let’s go.” Julian says, getting out of the car and extending an outstretched hand to offer help. I take his hand and he squeezes affectionately. My cheek warms as heat flirts up my neck and onto my face.
We follow him as he walks to the door, but before he can even knock, it swings open. A dark-skinned woman dressed in loud colors greets us.
“Julian,” she says with a raspy voice, sounding like she has been smoking since she was ten. “I didn’t think I would see you in these parts anytime soon. Come in,” she says, standing aside and allowing us to pass.
When we enter, it looks like your standard home—sitting room off to the right, formal dining room to the left—but we bypass all of that and go straight to the back of the house. She pulls a curtain aside and steps through. Stacey and I look to Julian, who nods for us to follow her through. On the other side, my breath hitches. A huge room with cathedral ceilings is lined wall to wall with all sorts of treasures. Gowns and clothing of all sorts are along one wall, while on the other end, glass cases full of what look like crystal balls have Stacey and I quirking our brows.
“Ladies, this is Madame Shante. We’ve known each other for over one hundred years.” My head jerks back at the information, questioning whether she’s a vampire herself.
“I’m no vampire, child. Just an old woman.”
Does she read minds too? Are any of my thoughts my own around here?
Julian chuckles at her self-description and most likely my inner struggle about the lack of privacy.
“Not that your magic would have anything to do with that,” he smirks at Madame Shante, still not acknowledging whether he can read my thoughts.
She smiles. “All right. So, I may weave a bit of magic every now and then that helps me stay young and alive, but let’s keep that our secret.” She winks. “Julian tells me you need something for one of Lawrence’s soirées. Seeing as how this will be your first, I must warn you, Lawrence loves the pageantry of a dinner party. He forgets it is the twenty-first century and insists that your dress is that of a debutante going to her first summer season.” She rolls her eyes. “You are going to be stepping back in time for this event.”
“That sounds... fun.” Stacey says, surprisingly chipper to hear that we have to wear corsets and multiple layers. It’s essentially a costume party, which is just ridiculous.
“You’ll find what you’re looking for. Go ahead and look around. Try anything on that you’d like. I have some business with Julian,” she says, grabbing him by the elbow and walking out of the room.
He offers us a smile as he goes.
“That was strange,” Stacey admits. “What kind of business do you think she has with your vampire?”
My vampire. I suppose that is exactly what he is. Mine. I’m okay with that. God only knows what a witch and a vampire would have to talk about. There’s still so much I don’t know about this whole world. I shrug, not having the slightest idea.
“While they’re gone, we might as well find our dresses.”
We go about sorting through racks of clothes. Stacey chooses an emerald-green dress with a corset back, trimmed in white lace, much like what she wore at the auction. With her red hair, she looks stunning. There’s no question that emerald is her color. I continue to search, pulling off a yellow dress, which Stacey scrunches her nose at. I keep looking, and finally I see it.
Tulle in navy blue with a strapless sweetheart neckline, beaded bodice, basque waist, lace-up back, and matching bolero has me stopping in my tracks. It’s beautiful. I step into the small room, calling out for Stacey. She helps me step into it, making sure it’s laced up so that I know it fits properly. And it does. It fits perfectly.
“Yes. You’re breathtaking,” Stacey praises, sidling up next to me. “Julian won’t know what to do with you.” I smile widely, hoping she’s right.
I take off the dress and hide it, not wanting Julian to get a peek of it before tomorrow night. It’s not like it’s a wedding dress, but I want to surprise him. With the help of Stacey and Katina, I’ll be transformed into a vixen that any vampire would have trouble resisting. At least, I hope.
Twenty-five minutes later, a stone-faced Julian comes walking in with an equally melancholy Madame Shante.
“Are you ready?” Julian asks, without looking at me.
I frown, not liking this sudden change in demeanor.What was their talk about?
“I’ll wrap up your purchases. Have a seat in the parlor,” she says, ushering us back through the curtain.
We sit in silence for several minutes, Julian avoiding my gaze. Stacey twiddles her fingers, looking anywhere but at the two of us. The awkwardness of this moment is thick and smothering.
