by Unknown
"You do," I said. "Unless you want people to chase you. That vest isn't street smart."
He laughed and unbuttoned it, removing the vest and then the burgundy dress shirt. He tugged at his white t-shirt. "This is acceptable?"
I nodded. "Much better."
He took me by the hand and led me out to the lobby staircase, pausing and nodding toward Olberich and Janssen, who had stopped to lock the conference room. "I want this to be just us tonight but…I don't go anywhere in the city alone. You understand that?"
"I figured. They'll drive a second car though, right? They won't fit in the back of the Cavalier."
"I'd like to see Olberich try to get into your car. He is humbled by average-sized vehicles. But seriously." His laugh dwindled. "I'd prefer to go alone, but this thing is not practical. They will drive us but I promise they will remain a discreet distance away. Philadelphia is a big city with many unpredictable elements."
"Is this what life is like for you all the time?" How sad. I loved my alone time, or at least my voluntary alone time. "Always being followed?"
He shrugged. "It's necessary. No sense to complain about what cannot be changed."
I smiled wanly. No sense, but something I did, nonetheless. I tended to waste a lot of time, these days, complaining. Maybe it was time to conserve energy and effort.
He must have sensed my change in mood because he squeezed my hand. "Come. Let's enjoy ourselves tonight. The work day is over."
We ended up on South Street. Olberich parked off the main drag and we walked a few blocks to my favorite cheesesteak place. The guys kept their promise to remain aloof, even changing their voices and thinning their accents to be less conspicuous.
I looked forward to being in a normal crowd, invisible once more. We were invisible, for the most part, but every now and then a passerby would seem to recognize Dierk. I'd catch their wide eyes and head bows, or an occasional subtle fist-heart salute. Did they recognize him as a Were, a rocker, or a king? Being with him was a little intimidating, knowing he was a celebrity to so many people.
By contrast, I picked out plenty of DV, every single one of them locked down and impassively hurrying by without incident. Maybe they wanted to protect me by not calling attention to me. Or maybe they were disappointed to catch me slumming it with a Were.
The restaurant was packed, the line stretching outside and around the corner. I ordered our sandwiches to go, but someone tugged on my sleeve as Dierk paid.
A twenty-something punk in a Sons of Anarchy shirt stood next to me and gestured to a group near the front window. "Our table is opening. We'll hold it for you."
Dierk looked over, then, and one of the men at the table did the fist-heart thing. A thin woman in an unseasonal halter top too short to hide her back tats hurried to put their plates on a tray, wiping the table down. They hadn't been done eating. They wanted to pick up and move to make space for him, just like that.
"You don't have to do that," I said, my face heating up.
Dierk reached out to him, and they clasped hands. "Your hospitality is appreciated. She has never seen me try to walk and eat at the same time."
They walked to the table together, and I trailed behind with our order, watching as he thanked each person and chatted. The group left, each face beaming as if they had a brush-in with royalty.
I suppose they actually did.
The boys, as I was beginning to mentally call Janssen and Olberich, managed to grab a spot at the outside counter next to the front window, where they kept an eye on us. Janssen, I noticed, had an eye for redheads, and made sure to talk to each one that walked past. I caught Olberich's attention, now and again, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation at his partner.
We took our time with our subs, chatting and people watching. Dierk had one thing that was firmly in his favor—he was wonderful for conversation. He listened, too, responding and letting me know each minute that I was the focus of his attention. Unlike Rodrian, whose DV power spoke as many volumes as his words, Dierk had only his physical expressions to remind me we were on the same page, and his body language said everything I needed to know—he was with me, not the other way around.
Under regular circumstances, I would have said he was the ideal date. "Date" would have been too trivial a word, though, because I knew he was courting me.
After dinner, we walked down to Penn's Landing, a leisurely stroll. He took my hand, entwining our fingers as he had before, and we enjoyed a lovely evening out together. I can't say I was disappointed. And I can't say I was surprised, either.
It was well past midnight when we got back to his hotel. I let him come around to my side to open the door and waited until the boys walked away, giving us some space.
"I had a nice time tonight," I said, rather glad for the shadows, so he couldn't see evidence of my contentment. I didn't want him to know how much I enjoyed the evening. It might give him the wrong idea.
"So did I." The lamp light was full on his face, illuminating the sincerity of his smile. He stroked my arm, a brush of his fingers that beckoned a spread of goose bumps. "I could get used to you."
"Oh, really. Don't struggle with it, now."
"I won't if you won't." He tugged me a little closer. "Don't drive home. It's too late. I arranged a room for you."
I gave him a look of playful shrewdness, narrowing my eyes but wearing a slight grin. "Is it guarded like the last time?"
He only shrugged. "It is next door to my suite, so I suppose it is."
"I didn't pack a bag, though—"
"And once again, you forget that I think of everything. Come."
Once upstairs, Janssen opened a door for me and let me and Dierk inside. It was a spacious suite, a king sized bed with a mountain of pillows decked in a cream-colored satin duvet set, nothing at all like the economy poly-blend mustard-yellow bed spread of a plain old room. The windows were high and arching, as had been the windows in his room. The view was vaguely familiar, so I trusted he was serious about being right next door.
Dierk leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed, watching. "Get some sleep. I have court again tomorrow. I'd like you to be there for it, if you would not mind."
"Do I have to sneak in again?"
"No." He smiled, a full-faced smile that matched the sparkle in his eyes. "You'll be with me."
I nodded. "If you want me to, I will."
He raised my hand to his mouth and kissed it, lingering over the touch. "If you need anything, just call. Or knock," he added with a laugh. "I will be just on the other side of this wall."
"Okay," I said, my voice a whisper. "I'll count on that."
He kissed my hand again and left. I watched the door for a full minute, waiting for it to reopen.
When it appeared he wouldn't change his mind and came back in, I went into the bathroom. On the vanity, a pink nightie and silk dressing gown had been laid out. I held my breath as I lifted the gown, pressing it up against me in front of the mirror. It was sweet, just really sweet.
I took a few minutes to change and wash up, appreciating the details he'd organized for me. He seemed to have noted what soap and toothpaste I kept in the guest bath of my own rooms because they were arranged on the sink, and the nightie was a perfect fit. I wasn't surprised.
I wondered what else he had gleaned about me from the little time we've known each other. Either he was Sherlock Holmes or—
Or he actually cared enough to learn all he could about me.
I slipped into bed, enjoying the luxurious touch of the sheets and the perfect softness of the pillow and turned out the light. After a moment, I sat up in bed and rolled onto my knees, looking at the wall between us. Reaching up with my hand, I hesitantly knocked, two soft, slow taps. Just to say goodnight. It was the least I could do to thank him for a wonderful evening.
As I got back into bed and pulled up the sheets, I heard his reply. Knock knock.
Good night.
I fell asleep wearing a smile, my heart at rest for t
he first time in a very long while.
First Quarter | Waxing gibbous | moon 50% visible
I woke early, completely rested, and took a quick shower. After getting dressed, I rolled my hair into a wet bun and opened the door. Janssen stood at ease, more or less, arms in front, one hand around the other wrist.
He half-bowed and took on an easy smile. "Early riser, Miss Galen. Shall I wake him?"
"No, I just want to run to the lobby. Do you have the key to let me back in?"
"I do."
"Good. Let him sleep, then. I'll be right back."
I hurried downstairs and called Dahlia. She answered on the first ring. "Where are you?"
"In Philly. Listen, I need a huge favor."
A half-hour later, I saw her car pull into the lot and I dashed outside. "Did you find it?"
"Yes." She waved a dress bag at me. "Hanging in the laundry room, right where you said. But you were right. No shoes, not even up under your desk. And I don't think those boots are going to go with this."
"That's where you come in. Come on."
We went back inside, up to the room. The guard stiffened as we turned the corner together, but he relaxed when he saw me, only eyeing Dahlia with suspicion and not flat-out pinning her against the wall or frisking her for weapons.
Janssen lifted his chin. "What's in the bag?"
"A dress." I lifted the bottom of the plastic and offered it to him for closer inspection. "Don't tell him, okay? I want to surprise him."
He shook his head. "Der König doesn't appreciate surprises."
Janssen was going to be tough to persuade. "Okay…how about tell him my Demivampire female friend came over. But don't mention the dress, okay?"
"I have a duty," he said, with a firm shake of his head.
I pouted. "Can I order you to forget the dress?"
The guard's gaze bore into my own for several uncomfortable moments before flicking over to Dahlia. "You smell of Wolf."
She nodded, carefully. "My beloved is Wolfenkinder."
That seemed to do something. He pulled out a key card and popped the door open. "I saw no dress. Go inside."
I waited until the door was shut. "Smooth move, Dally. You went all Germanic on him, what with the Wolfenkinder."
"Classic concept in communication. When you want people to know you are on their level, you speak in their own language. And, don't think I didn't notice you, either. Ordering the King's Guard around came awful easy to you."
"Don't look at me. He only did it because you sleep with a Were."
"So do you." She grinned at me but after a moment, she lost the smile. "You do, don't you?"
A prickly heat scalded my cheeks as I dropped my purse on a table.
"I knew it," she said. Her voice was softer, but chiding. "You haven't. You still are true to Marek."
"Please." I held up my hand. "You know I can't think of him now. It's wrong."
"But why is it wrong? He'd want you to be happy."
"And I will be," I said firmly. "But I won't give up everything in order to do it."
"Sophie." Dahlia shook her head at me and put her hand on my shoulder. "What do you have left? This thing you have with Dierk—it might be alien but it is something more than what you have now."
"I have my humanity. I have my Demivamps—"
"And Toby has those things, too."
What did I say to that? She was absolutely right. I sat down and pulled off my boots, tossing them aside with a double clunk on the hardwood floor.
"You're lucky you called when you did." Dahlia set the hanger on a hook in the bathroom and began stripping off the plastic. "Another thirty minutes and we would have been gone."
"Plans this early?" I yanked off my shirt and chucked it onto the bed. Parading around in my bra with my potential mate right next door made me feel downright brassy. Sliding the dress off the hanger, I ducked into the bathroom to get changed.
Her reply sounded strained. "Just packing our things."
I stuck my head back around the corner to look at her, but her expression was closed, her eyes lowered. "Why? Where are you going?"
"Anywhere Aurelia isn't. We're going back to my place downtown."
I flexed my fingers, fighting the urge to punch the door. "Is she giving you guys grief about staying there?"
"Not grief. More of an ambience thing. Feels like a power struggle going on, even though she's the only one fighting. Put that dress on and let me see it."
I kicked off my jeans and slid the dress over my head, tugging it into place before glancing at my reflection. It was a ruched black knee-length dress that I'd worn the day of Marek's memorial. I'd told myself I never needed to see that dress again and left it in the laundry room.
Too bad, because it had been a great little dress. I just never wanted to need it again. Maybe if I never saw it, I'd never end up needing it.
Now, it was the only thing that I could get at short notice on a Sunday morning, when no shops were open and no person could get into my rooms because of the wards.
Dahlia eyed me, tapping her lip. "A little somber, isn't it?"
"Yes, but you can fix it, can't you?"
She laughed. "I'm not a seamstress."
"No, but I saw you make a sweatshirt for Toby once." I twisted and turned in the mirror, trying to see the back of the dress. "Can't you—I don't know, add a little trim?"
"Oh. Right! How about…" She rolled the neckline between her fingers and tugged, a line of white piping appearing. "And…"
After ten minutes of tugging and folding, she'd given the funeral dress white trim and a skinny belt and lightened the black material to a navy color, even altering my hobo bag into a matching clutch. Although it was a very tough decision, I gave her the go ahead to change my boots into heeled navy pumps—but only after taking a dozen different pictures so she could change them back.
I stood in front of the mirror and surveyed my new look. "Thanks, fairy godmother. I'm pretty sure I can go to the ball now."
"Prince Charming is one lucky guy." She rubbed her eyebrow and turned away. "I just wish—"
"Me, too," I whispered. "I just wish being happy didn't have to suck so much."
She toyed with a left-over piece of material. Weird, since the dress was a lot lighter before she started adjusting it. I sincerely hoped it wasn't like putting an engine back together and having a piece left over. A wardrobe malfunction in court could be disastrous. She rolled the cloth between her hands until it became the head of a zipper. "Yeah. I'm really going to miss you guys when you leave."
I chuckled. "I didn't know Dierk grew on you so much."
"Not Dierk." Her voice was thick with sadness, and I opened my shields a tiny bit to get a better sense of what she meant and bit back an oath.
How could I have been so insensitive? Her sadness was true grief, deep and swift like a midnight river after a hard rain. She worried she would lose Toby.
Taking up her hand, I tugged her over to sit on the bed with me. I had no words with which to comfort her. All I could do was use what God gave me. I drew her into my shields and eased her pain, as temporary a fix as it would be. She rested her head on my shoulder, holding my hands in hers, while I did my best to let her know that I treasured her as my dear friend, and that if the worst came to pass, I would take care of Toby.
Next door to the Wereking's suite, in the middle of a Were safe house, I didn't dare make overt use of my Sophia. I was no champion at sending secret Sophia messages, but she nodded and squeezed my hand. I guessed I did a good enough job.
She left quietly, and I spent the rest of the morning getting ready for Dierk. I even took a good while blowing out my hair and getting the ends to flip. I wanted classic and professional, with just a touch of whimsy. Something worthy of a day in court. I was still twisting in front of the mirror and practicing how to carry a clutch when a rap sounded on the door and Dierk walked in.
He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide, as he gave me a once-over, f
inishing up his assessment with a smooth whistle. "Wow. You did this for me?"
I nodded, shyly. "Couldn't wear an Ozzy shirt two days in a row, no matter how good it smells."
Dierk laughed and took my hand, encouraging me to spin around for him. "But how?"
"I have my resources. And a best friend that I'm sure your man told you about before you came in."
He only gave me his half-smile. "It is a comfort, this understanding you have of me. I don't have to explain many things."
"Not understanding, I don't think." I let go of his hand and opened my newish purse. "Just expectation."
"And do I meet your expectations?"
I leaned into the mirror to apply my lipstick. "I guess. I never thought too hard about what an actual king should act like."
"And what about me as a man?"
The hesitation in his voice disarmed me. Finding his reflection over my shoulder, I met his gaze. "You exceed every notion I've ever had of you."
"Except in one way."
I couldn't lie. "I try very hard not to think about that."
"It is enough, for now." He backed out of the room, rubbing his hands together. "Shall we breakfast in your room or mine?"
Smart guy, distracting me with food. Another point to the exceptional man, hoping to put one more step between the man and the beast.
Janssen briefed Dierk while we ate, the day's schedule sounding just as droll as the day before. My only comfort lay in knowing I wouldn't have to squirm under the scrutiny of his court, as I sat next to their splendid majesty decked out in jeans and a concert shirt. At least I could pretend I was an executive assistant or something. I was great at pretending.
An hour later, he escorted me back into the conference room and led me to my seat. When his back was turned to the room, he grinned and mouthed some encouraging word to let me know I had nailed the entrance. I smiled back and took a steadying breath.
Once seated, I glanced around the room, wondering if I'd know anyone. To my tremendous relief, Toby was posted next to the craft room door behind the dais. Suddenly, it was easier to breathe. I had a connection to my outside life there with me, and the vague sense of alienation disappeared.