Eight
Maron
I got into my car, slid off my jacket, and immediately rested my forehead on the steering wheel. I was exhausted. And confused. And a whole lot of things I couldn't currently decipher. Sterling was an enigma and I wasn't quite sure how to figure him out. I definitely did not like him. But there was something almost magnetic about him, and I could tell that underneath all the jerkiness, there was a brain in there whirring around and firing on all cylinders. But he was kind of an ass. Even though he apologized to the waitress and hostess tonight. Then when he realized how talking about my affliction made me feel, he even tried to turn that around.
I groaned and lifted my head up. I dug my keys out of my purse, started the car and drove home, my mind busy the entire way.
I had two more dates before I met my soulmate.
There was no way I could have met him already.
No way, right?
I pulledinto the driveway of my house about twenty minutes later. I couldn’t help that the date had gone so wrong. All I could do was look forward to the future and see who else Portia had in store for me because it certainly wasn’t Sterling. I wasn’t quite surewhat she’d been thinking when she tossed us together. Vamps and werewolves couldn’t procreate and since I knew I eventually wanted children, it wouldn’t have worked out anyway. I knew of vamps and wolves who dated, but they didn’t seem to be terribly serious with each other. They couldn’t be. Having a hybrid baby was as good as a death sentence. I tossed my stuff down on the couch as soon as I walked in. My house was clean but cluttered and I kind of liked it that way. Padding into the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of wine from the top storage of my fridge and opened it. A Malbec. My favorite. I didn’t drink often but I thought tonight was a good excuse for it.
I slid into a stool behind the kitchen island. Sterling Luna. Cool name. Too bad he was such a twat. I’d never met a more arrogant and insufferable fool. He acted like he was the god's gift to women. But part of me couldn’t get over the fact that some of it seemed to be an elaborate act. He seemed uncomfortable when he saw how angry I was and he even apologized to our waitresses. Something was off about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Shaking my head, I set my glass down. I shouldn’t even be thinking about him. He was a disaster and we couldn’t even be together anyway. Unless the laws had changed which I knew they most certainly had not. I thought about getting into the ice cream but it was a purely emotional response. Instead, I rinsed out my glass and headed into the bedroom to put my pajamas on. Tomorrow was a new day. One in which I met my possible soul mate.
The next morningI got up feeling a little better than I had the night before. Pushing Sterling firmly out of my mind, I hit the shower and stood under the spray wondering what the next man was going to look like and if he was going to have better manners than the werewolf did.
One could only hope, right?
After drinking more coffee than any one woman had a right to, I pulled on a pair of comfortable leggings and a long t-shirt before I headed outside.
We were independently wealthy. Well, my family was. I received a stipend every month with a healthy sum which allowed me a lot of flexibility to do whatever I wanted. However, it usually made me feel guilty. Very guilty, so I’d taken to tithing twenty percent of my income to local charitable organizations scattered around the country. We didn’t have much in the way of philanthropy here in Midnight Cove simply because Portia seemed to have a zero tolerance for poverty or anything of that nature. Paranormals tended to be wealthy simply by virtue of how long-lived they were, so most people never had to worry about losing their homes. For those who had fallen on hard times, the rumor was Portia would give them a job. Whether that was true was beyond me. There were so many rumors surrounding our illustrious leader I’d long since stopped trying to decipher truth from legend. Made it easier on me.
I did have one guilty pleasure no one knew about. I built a little studio in the back of my house and set it up with enough metalworking equipment, stones, and metals to keep me busy for generations. I made jewelry. A lot of it. I sold it on Midnight Cove’s craft site and also Earth’s Etsy. It made it a little more difficult around tax time, but I’d managed to get around that by ensuring I hired an accountant both here and for the states. Paranormals weren’t recognized by any government authority yet, but I had some friends in high places who’d given me an untraceable identity on the outside. So I’d named my shop Mystic Delights and sold pieces as I created them. At first, it had been slow, but word of mouth quickly picked up and I was selling pieces as fast as I could make them. Sometimes even faster. I had dozens of emails asking for custom work, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to go down that road yet. I liked creating whatever came to my mind at the moment. And from the way my bank account was beginning to pad itself, I suspected other people liked what I was creating, too.
Today it was a tear-shaped labradorite pendant. It was simpler than my usual fare, but the stone itself was so gorgeous, I felt like it didn’t need to have an over-designed setting. I’d found the stone on a gemstone auction site and had beat out a couple of angry folks for it. Purple, oranges, and greens flashed every time I moved the stone, and I could feel potential magic pulling from it. Whoever bought this piece would be ecstatic. I knew so because I was tempted to keep it for myself.
I tested the handmade cabochon setting I’d created out of pure sterling silver. So far, so good. I’d oxidize the piece once I finished it, but right now I still had to work on the chain. I wasn’t content to put my work on pre-purchased chains. I always liked to create a piece from the ground up. This one was no exception. I pushed up the sleeves to my long-sleeved shirt, pulled a mask down over my face and got to work. I had the entire day before I needed to get ready for my date. This guy’s name was Chet. It already sounded bad. With a sigh of annoyance, I yelled out for Alexa to turn on John Mayer music, and then I got to work.
What to wearto a date when you had zero desire to go? I’d woken up a little more hopeful, but as the day dragged on and I’d gotten closer to leaving, all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep. Last night’s date with Sterling had gone so poorly, I thought I might need a break from any kind of dating activity.
Also, who named their kid Chet anyway? The file on this one didn’t say if he was a human or paranormal. I guess since I didn’t drink blood, either was fine, though I still had some reservations about actually marrying a human. Mostly because my parents were already disappointed enough in me. Bringing home someone who couldn’t expose their fangs probably wouldn’t endear him to them.
“Aargh,” I muttered under my breath as I stood in front of the closet flipping through my wardrobe. I had quite the variety of clothes. This was another strike against me. I couldn’t help it. As soon as my inheritance hit my account each month I felt what was almost a physical compulsion to head out of Midnight Cove and down to the local human mall. I didn’t exactly dress like a denizen of the night and my clothes reflected that.
I was a lover of all bright things. Bright vivid blouses and patterned skirts. Loud high heels or cute flats in blues, red or oranges, simple pops of color or basically whatever shade of the rainbow I decided on that day. It drove my family nuts. As did most things I happened to like. I wasn’t very on brand with the vamp lifestyle and certainly not with the Archer name, but I’d long since given up trying to impress them or even fit in with them. If they ever decided to push me by threatening me with my inheritance, well, this was why I’d begun the jewelry business. I was slowly but surely socking money away. Right now, they seemed content to groan about it and make passive aggressive comments, but it hadn’t yet affected my bank account.
After debating on what I should wear, I finally settled on a peacock blue long-sleeved blouse and a black A-line skirt. With it, I paired a pair of bright yellow high heels and twisted my hair up into a soft bun with curls spilled around my face. This was the best I could do. Or the best I wanted to do, really.
The doorbell rang promptly at 8 and I took a deep breath and muttered a prayer before I opened the door. This one couldn’t be worse than the date with Sterling. If it was, I was giving up and heading straight down to the animal shelter to adopt those cats.
I pulled open the door to see a tall man staring into the forest. All I could make out was broad shoulders and inky black hair. He spun around, an apologetic expression on his face. “Sorry,” he murmured, a sheepish look on his face, “but do you have people working on your land?”
I blinked at him. This wasn’t exactly how I thought my date was going to start. “Errm?”
He laughed and pointed to his ears. “Sorry. Perks of wolf hearing.” Rage was boiling in my veins. Portia had the gall to set me up withanotherwerewolf? What in the nine circles of hell was wrong with this lady? I slapped a calm smile on my face and shook my head. “No idea,” I said. “Sometimes I catch teenagers out there sneaking away from prying ears and eyes.”
“Hmm,” was all he said. “You might want to investigate that during the day time. It doesn’t sound right.”
And on that ominous, slightly bizarre note, my date with Chet began.
He was stupid handsome, as most werewolves were. But he was also soft spoken and appeared to possess an above average intelligence. There seemed to be no secret societies in his background, nor did he mention anything about me not drinking blood. I would hope he read the info file on me. Most people would have, right?
But I still couldn’t help asking the obvious. “What exactly are you looking for?”
Chet’s glass paused in mid-air. “Pardon?”
