RISE OF THE LYCANS - Mates and Bonds

Selena

“Is prostitution legal in Paris?” Grandma Dori asked as the escalator carried us from the basement to the ground level of Galeries Lafayette. Several heads turned in our direction, and Jose stifled a laugh.

Persephone looked horrified. “Why do you ask, Grandma?”

“A thousand euros for one pair of shoes?” She replied. “Wait until Nooker hears about this at Bingo! Hell, my Hush Puppies were only sixty dollars.”ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

“They were on sale,” I tried to explain.

“Hello, those are the Valentino Rockstuds,” Jose added. “It’s practically a crime not to own a pair.”

“Do you have any?” She asked Jose.

“Of course! I have them in black, red, and silver,” he grinned. “But they’re only for special occasions.”

“I don’t think anyone will notice your shoes,” she told me. “Everyone will be walking around with those masks obstructing their views. It might be easier to dance if you borrow some of my Hush Puppies.”

“You didn’t mention it was a masked gala,” Jose replied as we stepped off the escalator. “Do you have masks yet?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” I told him. I was just going to cut a black lace mask for myself, but I wasn’t sure if Persephone and Grandma had some.

“We’re going to need some of those,” Grandma said.

“I know a great place to get masks,” he beamed. Jose always knew just the right place.

“Perfect!” Persephone was practically floating with joy. “I was hoping for a full-face mask… like the kind you see in Venice for Carnival.”

“I know just the guy!” He clapped with excitement.

“Can we shoplift something before we go?” Grandma asked, looking at the security guards wearing sharp suits as if they were dessert.

“No! There will be no shoplifting,” I told her. “We can buy anything you want. No prostitution or shoplifting required.”

“I wouldn’t mind a little pat down,” she smirked.

“I’ll take a big pat down,” Jose chuckled. “Everything here is fashionable and tempting, including those bonbons!”

“Don’t encourage her!” I hissed.

Stella stirred, and I quickly scanned the upper balconies of the mall. I could sense other shifters here, but I couldn’t see them.

“Alpha,” my wolf told me, and that’s when I spotted him.

He had a strong resemblance to Lukas, but I knew it wasn’t him. It was Ranger, his younger cousin. Red hair moved beside him, and I recognized Cynder just as my sister locked eyes with me.

“Selena!” She screamed from the second floor, and I quickly turned my back to her. My parents would be upset if they knew I was avoiding them. Persephone lifted a bag to hide her face and was already dashing away with Dori in tow.

“Go, go, go,” I nearly barked, hunching beside Jose for cover as we weaved through the shoppers.

I breathed a sigh of relief when we pushed through the mall doors and crossed the street to a taxi stand where the cabs were lined up. One of the taxis was a van, and we rushed to it before anyone could hire it. Jose gave the driver an address, and I looked back through the window to see Ranger, Cynder, and my sister looking around at the throng of people walking past.

“That was close,” Persephone laughed.

“Whom are we avoiding? And is he handsome?” Jose asked.

“My sister… I told my parents I was busy today.” He eyed me suspiciously but didn’t press. “Are we going back to the fifth arrondissement?”

“Arron what?” Dori asked.

“Arrondissement… it means district.”

“Then why don’t you just say district,” she rolled her eyes. “Leave it to the French to make everything sound fancy.”

Paris had twenty districts, but the Latin Quarter, located in the fifth and sixth districts, was my favorite part of Paris. It was practically in the city center and close to everything. The Romans built the Latin Quarter, which became the hub of learning institutions where Latin was widely spoken. This part of Paris offers everything from vibrant markets to gardens. It had plenty of cafés, restaurants, clubs, bookstores, and historical landmarks.

“The shop I want to take you to specializes in Venetian art, everything from jewelry and glass to masks and costumes. Giacomo is amazing,” Jose touted.

The array of authentic handcrafted face masks in the little shop was stunning, and I wondered how I had never stumbled upon it before. The owner was a Venetian-born elder who learned his craft from generations of ancestors. Jose introduced us and explained that Giacomo had met his Parisian wife fifty years ago during the Venice Carnival and has lived in Paris ever since.

Romantic envy seared through me when I thought about Giacomo following his heart to Paris. He gave everything up in Venice and started all over again to be with the woman he loved. A black-and-white photo of the two in their youth hung on the back wall.

He noticed my gaze on the photo and smiled. “My Sylvie,” he said.

“She’s lovely. Does she craft with you?”

“No,” he chuckled. “She’s a true Parisian with a deep love of French history. Sylvie spent forty years teaching at the university. Then, she decided to take tourists on historical tours through the Catacombs of Paris, Les Invalides, Place de la Concorde… you name it!”

“Is that right?” Grandma Dori asked. “Does she have a card? I may want to schedule a few tours.”

Lukas also had a deep love of history. He was a lycan, which meant that he would live for hundreds of years. Growing up, he was always so fascinated with world history. He was eager to understand the rise and fall of civilizations because, one day, he would rule.

“How cute is this! I think it’s a cat mask,” Jose said. “Do you have any wolf masks?”

“No! No animal masks,” I shook my head.

Persephone’s voice came through the mind link. “Does he know?”

“That we’re shifters? Of course not,” I replied.

“Are you sure?” She pressed.

“I’ve known Jose since I moved to Paris. He doesn’t know,” I assured her.

Jose had become one of my closest friends in Paris, but I never felt the need to tell him what I was. Living in Paris, I was just an ordinary female studying fashion and nursing my broken heart. I would have to return to pack life soon enough, and I knew that Lukas would eventually find his soulmate. I would have no choice but to accept her as our Queen, no matter how much it hurt.

Dori let out a low whistle as she pointed at a black and gold mask. “Look at the beak on this one! No one will recognize me in it.”

“You are not wearing a plague doctor mask, Grandma!” Persephone told her. “Every curious eye will be drawn to you if you show up in that thing.”

“The idea of wearing masks to a ball or Carnival has been around for centuries,” Jose said. “It’s a free pass to be someone else, release your passion, act on instincts, and sleep with whoever you want. Think of it as a blank cheque to do what you want without being judged by society.”

“I might need a few of these blank cheques,” Grandma Dori laughed.

“You should wear a Colombina mask,” Giacomo told me. “You are very beautiful, and a half mask would suit you best.”

“I agree!” Jose chirped. “Her dress is a deep royal purple. We should find something to complement it.”

“I want a full-face mask,” Persephone told Giacomo, who looked stunned at the idea of her covering her entire face. “I’d like to avoid being noticed and just enjoy myself,” she added.

“The Volto mask is best for woman wanting to cover their entire face.”

Persephone selected a simple but elegant cream and gold full-face mask, while Grandma Dori selected a lavish burgundy and green checkered mask with gold embellishments.

“So much for being unnoticeable,” I mumbled to myself.

“At least it wasn’t the plague doctor mask,” my wolf snickered.

“I’m going to need one of those big velvet hat wrap things to go with my mask,” Dori said. “My hair is a dead giveaway, and I want to be able to do what I want without being judged, like Jose said.”

After Giacomo had wrapped up our boxes, we left to find a taxi. My apartment was about ten blocks away, and I wasn’t sure Grandma Dori was up for the walk.

“Should we find a taxi?” I asked.

“We should find lunch,” Persephone suggested. “I hear the French take their dining hours seriously.”

“They sure do!” Jose replied. “Lunch is a long and cultural event here… It’s illegal to eat lunch at work.”

“You mean you can’t eat a sandwich at your desk?” She asked him.

“Eww, why would you want to? The separation of work and lunch is practically sacrosanct in France. The midday break is good for your health, and the quality of your work.”

“Okay, so where are we eating?” Grandma Dori asked.

I looked at my phone and realized it was nearly two already, and most kitchens would be closed until dinner service. “We’ve shopped right through lunch. We’ll have to pick up some items for a spread at home.”

“I was looking forward to trying some ratatouille or those fancy snails,” Grandma Dori said.

“I need to get home and take care of a few things,” Jose said, looking at a message on his phone. “But if you’re free tonight, Erick has invited you to dinner at La Tour. His escargots are delicious.”

“His what?” Grandma asked.

“Those fancy snails you want to try. He’s the Sous Chef at La Tour,” Jose told them, expecting them to know what La Tour was.

“La Tour is one of the restaurants located inside the Eiffel Tower,” I told them.

“We’re eating at the Eiffel Tower tonight?” Persephone looked like she was ready to start jumping up and down.

“Gives me a reason to wear lipstick!” Grandma smiled.

I took a deep breath and shook my head. There was no way Persephone or Grandma would allow us to miss this opportunity. I’ve been to La Tour with Jose several times, and it was a wonderful experience with a lovely view, but the tourists were everywhere at all hours of the day and well into the evening.

“Fine,” I exhaled. “What time should we meet you?”

“Meet at nine, and don’t be late,” Jose said as he gave me air kisses on each cheek before he departed.

We made our way to the boulangerie first, which is a bakery that sells fresh bread. Grandma Dori hovered close to the glass and carefully inspected the different selections of bread behind it.

“How do we know it’s fresh if we can’t squeeze the baguettes?” She asked.

“French law requires traditional baguettes to be made at the boulangerie they’re sold at,” I tried to explain. “And since they can’t contain additives or preservatives, they have to be fresh because they go stale in twenty-four hours.”

After our trip to the bakery, we picked up a variety of meats, cheese, and fruit for our late lunch. We returned to my apartment with all the shopping in hand and clambered up the stairs. Persephone sat on the small balcony, taking in the view of Paris from my rooftop apartment as I prepared the charcuterie spread for our afternoon meal.

“I can’t believe we’re going to have dinner in the Eiffel Tower!” Persephone murmured wistfully as she gazed out at it.

I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. Persephone was a born lycan and had been protected her entire life. If it wasn’t her father, it was her older triplet brothers, cousins, uncles, and grandparents. She was twenty years old, but wasn’t allowed to go out without a guard. In the human world and among other werewolves, she was considered a mature adult. It was her lycan genetics that classified her as a pup until she was twenty-five.

“Let’s eat.” Grandma Dori said. “I need to shower and take a nap, so I’m refreshed for a night out on the town!”

After a much-needed nap, we took turns in the bathroom getting ready for our dinner. Grandma and Persephone had taken the bed in my small bedroom, and I curled up on the pull-out sofa bed in my living room. There was a familiar comfort in my soul having them here with me. I had missed my family and everyone in my pack who was practically family.

I tried to imagine what it might be like to return home. Things would be different, and I wasn’t sure I would ever be ready for it. If I find my mate tomorrow night, I could have a different pack to call home. I could finally forget about Lukas. Stella let out a low growl just thinking about it.

“Is this dress okay?” Persephone asked. “I sort of packed in a rush.”

“It’s perfect,” I assured her. Persephone was a natural beauty and looked like her mother, while her brothers looked like her father. She had inherited the Theodorus family genes with long dark hair, stunning facial features, honey-golden eyes, and light olive skin. She looked like a Greek Goddess walking on earth.

“Alright, I’m ready to paint this town red,” Grandma Dori slung her purse over her shoulder.

I thought about her purse, and dread surged through me. “I hope you didn’t bring your pistol with you. Civilians are not allowed to carry firearms in France.”

“What?” She squawked. “How’s an old lady supposed to protect herself?” She returned to the bedroom, no doubt stashing her pistol in her suitcase.

“And no switchblade,” I called out.

“Good thing I have my pepper spray,” she replied.

“That’s prohibited, too,” I said, and she grumbled something. Knowing her for as long as I had, it was best to remind her of other weapons she’s been known to carry...

“No taser, nunchakus, brass knuckles, expandable batons, or throwing knives either.”

“That only leaves a wooden spoon, holy water, and a stale baguette to use for protection,” she complained, and I couldn’t help laughing. She could probably still kick someone’s ass with a stale baguette and make it look like an accident.

The Taxi dropped us off, and we made our way through security to the restaurant check-in. We stood directly under the Eiffel Tower and looked up to admire the center view.

“The iron lady looks good for her age,” Grandma Dori said as she reached for her phone. “Let’s take a few photos. The girls at bingo will never believe this.”

“The Eiffel Tower gets repainted every seven years,” Jose said as he greeted us. “She got her facelift last year,” he took Grandma’s phone from her and prepared to snap photos of us. “Now, stand together and look fabulous.”

After what felt like a mini photo shoot, we checked in and stepped into the elevator.

“Well it’s a good thing we’re eating at the first level restaurant,” Dori said as the glass elevator came to a stop. “I’m not a fan of heights… I’m more of a land creature.”

“This view is amazing!” Persephone replied. “I hear there’s a champagne bar at the very top.”

“Do they bungee jump from this thing?” Grandma asked.

“Only in movies,” Jose laughed.

We were seated at the Sous Chef’s special table, looking out over the river. Champagne was poured, and the starters were served. I waited for Grandma’s reaction to escargot and was surprised when she gave a nod of approval.

“I suppose with enough garlic and butter, anything can be tasty,” she said, reaching for another snail.

There were a lot of ranked wolves in Paris tonight, and I could sense the two shifter males on the other side of the restaurant before I saw them. They were both Alphas and appeared to be engaged in a serious conversation. They seemed oblivious to our presence and carried on with their meal while several human females noticed them. I sighed. It was always the same with male shifters, especially ranked wolves.

Bitterness filled me thinking about all the females who used to throw themselves at Lukas shamelessly. I reminded myself that Lukas was not mine, and he could have all the women he wanted. Then I promised myself that I would find my mate tomorrow no matter what. I had to.

I reached for the chilled bottle of champagne at our table, wishing the alcohol had the same effect on shifters as it did on humans. I tipped the glass back and gulped down the crisp, bubbly liquid.

With a small burp, I set my empty glass down and met the gaze of green eyes staring at me with amusement. They were eyes I had met just this morning at the café.