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“I was not. I swear on my oath to my Master. I was sent to give you a message.”
“Let’s hear it.”
I put a few more steps between us just in case, but never took my eyes off his. I didn’t trust Olaf.
“Julian wanted me to remind you that he prefers you stay on the grounds. He says it isn’t safe for you to wander about the city until he has introduced you at the party tonight. There are still many of our people who do not know of your arrival.”
“Sure, no problem.” I waited until Olaf left the room, and then escaped out the French doors.
The wind cut through me like a knife, and I wished I’d worn a heavier jacket. The gardens were massive and lush with winter greenery. A bricked path snaked throughout, and I followed it until I came to the last row of hedges. The stone fence that surrounded the chateau was probably twelve feet high, and it was hard to ignore the cameras perched in various locations. At least there was no barbed wire.
I took a running start and felt the muscles in my legs stretch as I pushed off the ground and jumped straight over the obstacle. I couldn’t help but give the cameras a little finger wave as I landed on the other side.
Freedom had never felt so good.
I started up the street at a jog, intending to catch a cab into the city, but as I got to the corner a car I’d never seen before screeched to a stop inches from me. Like everything of Julian’s it was black and sexy as hell.
But it wasn’t Julian who rolled down the passenger-side window. “You don’t think I’d let you go shopping without me, do you?”
I sighed in irritation. Of course Esmerelda would know exactly what my plans were. I opened the door and slid across the buttery leather seat.
“What kind of car is this?” I asked.
“A Bugatti Veyron. And there’s not another one like it in the entire world.”
“That figures. I wouldn’t expect Julian to be like anyone else.”
She smiled and said, “Come, one of our clan members owns an exclusive shop close by. I know he has something that will render Julian speechless.”
“Well, that would certainly be a nice change.”
I held on to the door handle as she pushed her tiny foot to the floor. The car took off with a squeal, and the scent of burnt rubber permeated the air. I prayed to the gods the people of Belgium had enough sense to stay out of her way. She weaved through traffic like a maniac, and when the street became too congested, she moved to the sidewalk. If Cal thought my driving was bad, he’d better hope he never had the chance to ride in a car with Esmerelda.
I added this car ride to my list of things I hated, right under flying and Julian.
She screeched to a stop in front of a small store on Avenue Louise—a long street filled with exclusive shops in the middle of Belgium. My body slammed against the seat belt and then back into the seat again.
“I’m going to have to get one of these someday. There’s nothing like it. I’ll let you drive on the way home if you’d like.”
“Thank gods,” I muttered under my breath.
“Let’s get you something to wear and get back. Julian doesn’t want you out of his sight for long.”
I decided right then I was going to take my sweet time. The dress shop was squeezed between a pâtisserie and a store that made handmade leather items. Discreet gold lettering on the front window labeled the store in Bulgarian as ???????—The Lair. Cute.
And in the front window was the exact dress I wanted. I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.
“I knew it would be just right for you,” Esmerelda said. “Let’s go in. I want you to meet Luuk and his family.”
I felt terribly underdressed in my jeans and T-shirt once we walked through the front doors of the sophisticated dress shop. I’d been to Versace in Rome and Chanel in Paris, and neither of those stores held a candle to this one. And neither did their clothes. Whoever designed these was a true artisan.
“Out! Get out of my shop,” an angry voice screamed in Belgian before my eyes could locate where it was coming from.
A mountain of a man, probably a full foot taller than me, whirled like a tornado to the front of the shop to keep me from progressing any farther. His dark hair was slicked back from a high forehead, and square glasses framed menacing black eyes rimmed with red fire. His slacks were gray silk and fit perfectly and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the throat and rolled up to the elbows. He had a tape measure draped across his shoulders and a pencil stuck behind one ear.
“I could smell your peasant stench a block away, dragon. You are not welcome here.”
He pushed at me with his power, and I absorbed it, rolling the intricacies of his magic through my body like an undulating wave. My dragon turned her back on his scent. He wasn’t the dragon she wanted.
