Ian had already booked us on a flight to Paris. That’s how confident he’d been that I’d agree to this date. He hadn’t remembered to include Silver, but Ian mesmerized the flight attendant into adding Silver as my “emotional support” animal.
Then, he left me alone after checking the three of us into the Hotel Plaza Athenee. Our suite had two bedrooms, giving me privacy while ensuring that Ian and I were still under the same roof. He didn’t need such measures. I wasn’t going to sneak away. I’d decided on a new strategy for tonight.
It was afternoon—demon-free time—so I went shopping on the avenue Montaigne. Paris’s picturesque, tree-lined street was famous for its high-fashion stores. I bought my outfit from the most pretentious one, got a bite to eat from a store clerk, then went back to the hotel and spent a solid hour getting ready.
When I was done, my hair was in wire-stiff curls, heavy makeup covered my face, perfume covered my natural scent, gaudy jewelry dripped from my neck and ears, and my dress was a ridiculously expensive creation that only looked good on vastly underweight women. Even in my usual slender-formed glamour, it wouldn’t be flattering on me. In my true form, my curves bulged in all the wrong places, and its tight sheath meant I could only walk with mincing, delicate steps.
Ian had fallen for a warrior woman. I now looked like a spoiled fashion victim that would need assistance climbing into a cab. If I could conjure up a swoon at the presumed sight of danger, I would be the perfect repellant for him.
A knock sounded on my bedroom door promptly at seven. I opened it, hiding my smile as Ian’s gaze swept over me in surprise. Then I let my smile bloom until it wreathed my mouth in the coyly expectant way some women do when they are waiting to be complimented while also pretending to be shy.
“I know it’s not the latest trend, but I could barely find anything to wear,” I said with the same vapid intonation as a particularly annoying reality TV star.
A sound came from him that could have been a laugh. Then he said, “Nonsense, you’re ravishing,” with such smoothness, I thought I had to be mistaken about the laugh.
He came inside, revealing a bouquet he’d concealed behind his back. A dozen red roses, except their petals were too thick to be natural and they glittered like finely cut crystals.
I touched one of the brilliant blooms. It felt cool and hard the way crystal would, but its petals bent beneath my finger as if it were a real flower. “What are these?”
“They’re called Faerie Queen Crimsons.”
I gave him a look over the top of the dazzling bouquet. “You’re giving a Law Guardian illegal magic flowers?”
His smile reminded me of the crystalline roses: dangerously beautiful because once you saw it, nothing else could compare. “No, I’m giving my wife a gift I thought she’d enjoy.”
I thrust the flowers back as if they suddenly burned me. “I’m not your real wife.”
“A Law Guardian disagreeing with the highest court in vampire society?” He tsked. “What is the world coming to?”
“You could care less about the law,” I snapped, my simpering date façade crumbling.
He grinned. “And you hate your hair, that dress, and those ridiculous tottering shoes, but here we are.”
He came in and set the flowers on an end table. The roses stood upright as if their long stems were contained by an invisible vase. When the overhead lights hit them, they glittered so brightly, a myriad of colors scattered across the room. They were beyond gorgeous, and so obviously magical that I’d never have gotten them for myself. I’d consider the risk too high and my happiness too . . . unimportant. As usual.
Did Ian remember that about me? I couldn’t tell, but it was obvious I couldn’t trick him with my vapid-date façade. He’d either seen right through it or he remembered the truth.
“These shoes are ridiculous,” I agreed, kicking them off. Why did modern women torture themselves with such contraptions? “I also hate how stiff my hair is, the stench from this perfume, and this gods-awful dress I can barely move in. Fuck it, I’m showering and starting over.”
Ian’s laugh followed me as I went back into the bathroom. “I’ll wait here.”
A quick shower, blow dry, and normal amount of makeup later, I put on a black silk pantsuit. It was chic enough for a