The Last Warrior (Shifters Unbound #13) - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,22

with small machines on it. “That’s one seventy-five thirty-three for both. A bargain, right?”

Before Rhianne could ask, one, seventy-five, and thirty-three what? Ben was beside her. He handed the young woman a plastic rectangle, and the young woman snatched it from him, slanting Rhianne a knowing look.

“Lucky you,” the young woman said admiringly. “Shoes and a good-looking guy to put them on his credit card.” She laughed as she slid the card through a slot on the machine.

Ben flushed as the young woman returned the card, giving him a wink. Liam had made the same signal. People in this world liked to gesture with their eyelids.

“Here you go, honey.” The young woman slid a bag across the counter, not to Rhianne, but to Ben. “Thank you, sweetie,” she said to Rhianne. “Y’all come back anytime.”

Rhianne nodded her appreciation and said good-bye. Ben led the way out of the store, he giving a wave to the man he’d been chatting with.

“I never thought the goblins were a servant race,” Rhianne said in perplexity as she and Ben strode down the street past more stores with colorful and unusual wares in their windows.

In the human world, it seemed, the merchants made certain everyone passing knew exactly what was on offer inside their shops. In her part of Faerie, merchants kept their houses plain, with only a modest sign above a narrow door to indicate what they sold. One knocked and inquired if they had the thing one wanted.

“What?” Ben glanced at her. “Ah.” He hefted the bag from the shoe store. “This is called being gallant. A lady shouldn’t have to carry her own parcels or pay for her own shoes. You’re my guest.”

“Oh.” Rhianne regarded him in confusion as pleasure crept through her.

She studied his solid body, lined with interesting tattoos, his hard face, his shorn black hair. People melted out of his way, but he was in no way gruff with them. He nodded at strangers as they passed, or said, “’Sup?” in a cheerful tone. Whatever that meant.

Ben did not possess the radiant handsomeness of the Tuil Erdannan nor the arrogant good looks of the hoch alfar or dokk alfar. Those of Faerie might even consider him ugly.

Rhianne had seen his other guise, only in a flash, when he’d rescued her. His human form was far more pleasant than that one, though she’d never find Ben ugly. He’d stormed into the fortress and taken her out, which would make him forever beautiful in her eyes.

Take care of him, Tiger had told her. He is the last warrior.

Last warrior for what?

Ben caught her hand and dragged her into the dim coolness of a building with a colorful façade and open doorway. “’Sup, Holly?” he said to the young woman at a podium, who had skin as dark as a dokk alfar’s and beautiful brown eyes. This town seemed to be full of lovely young women.

“Ben.” Holly stepped from behind the podium and hugged him. “Long time. Where’ve you been?”

“Oh, around. Busy. You have a table for two?”

“For you? Anytime.” The woman peered with frank curiosity at Rhianne, grabbed two giant cards, and led them at a fast pace across a floor crowded with tables and people.

When they reached an empty table near a window, Ben held out a chair for Rhianne, to Holly’s great interest. Ben settled Rhianne, as he had on the porch swing, before taking his own seat.

“They have the best shrimp gumbo here,” Ben announced.

“We sure do,” Holly said. “If you want authentic New Orleans food, this is the place. The menu is small, but that’s because everything is just right.” She laughed as she laid the cards in front of Rhianne and Ben, then sashayed away. Her tight dress emphasized her very curvy curves.

Rhianne leaned to him. “What is shrimp gumbo?” She paused. “What is shrimp?”

“Little critters that walk along the bottom of the sea. You put them in a kettle with sausage, bell peppers, and spices, and they sing to you.”

Rhianne recoiled. “You eat them alive?”

Ben’s laugh rumbled across the room. “My colorful way of talking. They’re plenty dead when they go into the pot. The gumbo sings.” He kissed his fingers and popped them open.

“Little critters that walk along the bottom of the sea?” Rhianne repeated, still uncertain.

“Maybe you’d prefer jambalaya. That’s rice with bell peppers and sausage, maybe some chicken. Oh, and shrimp.”

“Do they have anything without this shrimp?”

“Possibly.” Ben scanned the menu. “But don’t knock them ’til you’ve tried them. Trust me,