Page 18 of Unholy Gambit: Checkmate in Blood (A Paranormal Halloween #5)

Darling Axel. She meant it, both as an endearment and as a smart-assed retort.

Axel stared at the monitor. His little Aurélie had some sharp talons. He’d annoyed her, and he went back over the conversation in his head to try to figure it out.

The balance of power was off, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that.

No, there was. He could show her how to build solid shields, but then he wouldn’t be able to see in her head.

Logic told him this wasn’t likely to work long-term — his being able to peruse her thoughts and memories at will. Not for someone with a mind as sharp as his Aurélie’s.

And the word boyfriend felt wrong. Too juvenile. Too corny. He was her sputnik , her companion, or her ?ashīq — her lover, her adored one. No, she knew French, he could work with that. He was her amant. A much better choice for describing him as her lover. Soon, anyway.

Not too soon, though. He'd need to court her first. Properly prepare his Aurélie for her first true penetration. Learn her, so he'd know how to make it magical. Perhaps more donneur de plaisir , pleasure-giver, than amant .

Definitely not boyfriend , though. He’d laid waste to too many tender young virgins in his first centuries to be called something so ordinary. His first master had especially enjoyed watching the devastation. The screams.

He shook his head. He knew what not to do with his Aurélie, at least.

He grabbed the little bouquet of cookies Tariq had picked up for him to give her. It was quite aesthetic despite the Halloween theme. Tariq thought he was being funny by finding one with spiders, and perhaps the boy wasn’t wrong to be whimsical with this first gift.

She would be getting many, many gifts from Axel, and it was fitting that this first wasn’t serious. He’d read three dozen books on relationships since he’d been told his Aurélie needed him, and most recommended keeping things light to start.

Her smile was self-conscious when she first opened the car door, but it changed when she saw the little bouquet of cookies meant to look like Halloween flowers and spiders.

Pleasure and surprise lit her face, and he wanted to kiss her, but he merely handed them to her and put the car in gear.

He’d already researched the store she’d mentioned and had the address in his onboard GPS.

“I love it! I almost don’t want to eat them, but screw that.” She broke off part of a flower where it wouldn’t show much and took a bite. “Oh. Yummm. It’s the good kind of frosting, with buttercream.”

She held the bouquet with one hand and aimed her camera with the other, so the piece she broke off wouldn’t show, and snapped a pic.

She looked at it and then went to town texting someone.

A quick dip in her head told him she was sending it to Ruby, and he smiled to himself.

Wanting to share his gift with her friend was a good sign.

“I’m sorry about the way I reacted,” he told her. “I don’t want you to feel as if you need to hide things, and yet, you need to be able to keep your promises. I’ll try to do better, if this comes up again.”

He knew who her mentor was, of course. Her mind was an open book to him. She was playing games online with the current reigning world champion, and the only payment he would accept from her was a promise to tell no one he was teaching her.

Aury turned a little in her seat, so she watched him drive. “I think, maybe, the two of us in a relationship is kind of like two people who’ve never played chess trying to figure it out.”

She broke off another piece of cookie and ate it, thinking. “Except you know how to play… I don’t know, maybe backgammon and checkers, while I’ve only played Chutes and Ladders as a child.”

And here he’d thought he was the one struggling through the idea of a relationship.

She was thinking he had the upper hand, so he explained why this wasn’t accurate.

“I know about sex, but not relationships. I’ve watched people have romantic liaisons, talked to them during the process, but so have you. ”

She settled the flowers in her lap. “Right. We’re both neophytes, figuring it out. We’re going to fuck up. What’s important is that we acknowledge it and move on without repeating the same mistakes.”

The curse word hit him wrong, coming from his sweet Aurélie’s mouth, but he considered how to tell her, and then whether to tell her.

She cussed in her head, and that bugged him too, but nothing like hearing the words spoken aloud.

Finally, he said, “I believe that’s the first time I’ve heard you curse. ” And so casually. So naturally.

“Oh, I can do so with the best of them, but there’s a time and place for everything.”

The relationship books had stressed loving your partner as they are and not trying to change them, so he didn’t say anything. He didn’t like her cursing, but it sounded like he might have to accept it. Perhaps she wouldn’t do so very often.

He’d seen females shop before. He’d guarded them while they browsed. He’d killed them mid-aisle. His skillset meant he could be protector or executioner. The latter paid better, most days.

But never had he seen one enjoy it like this — with purpose, delight, and a hunter’s eye for detail.

She found five pairs of jeans for him to try on, four shirts, and three jackets.

He’d have chosen one of each and tried them on if he’d been with anyone else, but for his Aurélie, he tried them all on — except the jeans with rhinestones, though he phrased it as the Rip character ripping the heart out of anyone who tried to put him into sparkly jeans, rather than Axel being the one to make a mess.

He’d just come out of the dressing room when he saw her texting someone, and he went into her head to see that her mom had asked her what she was doing in this establishment.

Another peek, and he saw that her parents could see where her phone was at all times.

That could present a problem, but for now, he focused on her response, which was that she was helping a friend find clothing so he could be Rip on Yellowstone for Halloween.

He didn’t want to be a mere friend , but her mother resolved the issue by asking who it was, and whether he was a friend or more.

And her response made his heart happy, when he couldn’t remember ever describing his heart as happy in his entire, long-assed life.

His name is Axel, and he might end up being more than a friend, but it’s too soon to say.

Her mom wanted to know where they’d met, and she told her he’d volunteered at the Haunted Swamp, and then told her he was coming out of the dressing room, and they’d have to talk later.

“Your parents still keep close tabs on you,” he noted when she looked up.

Her face turned an adorable pink, but she shrugged and told him, “I can see where they are, too. It’s comforting, knowing where they are, and knowing if something happens to me, they’ll know where to look for me.”

He’d been considering telling her where his rental house was, but with this in mind, he was less inclined to do so.

Knowing her instructions when he’d tried other choices on, he turned in a circle and faced her again.

“I like this shirt best,” she said, “but the second pair of jeans. What do you think?”

“None of this is my style, so I’ll defer to your judgment.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, that shirt goes on the hook with the second jeans, and those can go in the discard area.”

When he’d tried everything on, she wanted him to put her choices on all together, and he just stared at her. Everyone has their limits.

Five seconds passed, and she shrugged. “Fine. We need to pick out a belt and tacky buckle.”

The buckle was so far beyond tacky , he almost expected it to come with its own theme music. He couldn’t fathom why mortal men would want something that loud a few inches above their dick — maybe as a warning, maybe as misdirection — but he knew it fit the character, so he nodded at it.

But if anyone he knew from previous centuries saw him in it, he’d have to kill them. Quietly. Without fuss.

She looked over all the boots and told him, “I know where to find the ones I want for you, but…” She looked at the shelves again and back to him.

“The ones that will work here are nearly two hundred dollars, and they’ll be fine.

In fact, these are the same brand the websites say Rip wears, but for the fancy ones, the name-brand kind?

We’ll have to go across the river, and they’ll be more like nine hundred dollars, which I’ll pay for if you let me, but… ”

She looked terribly uncomfortable, so he stepped to her, pulled her into his arms, and gently kissed her forehead. “If I’m going to be Rip, it seems I need the right boots. If these are his brand, we’ll get them.”

“I mean, have you ever in your life worn cowboy boots? It isn’t like you’ll ever wear them again, and most people won’t know the difference between these and the name-brand ones.”

There was clearly something he was missing, and all he could get from her thoughts was a chaos of contradictions about cost since he was being stubborn and not letting her pay for them, mixed in with realism versus wanting to put him in the very best.

“Will they be more comfortable? I have shoes that cost thousands,” he looked at his feet, “but these are my favorite. They only cost around three hundred dollars, if I remember correctly, but they’re built on a sneaker base.

Dress shoes must match the clothes, but I prefer comfort, no matter the cost to get the right look along with a good fit. ”

She nodded. “Yeah, Zerogrand Wingtip Oxfords, I recognized them.” A sigh. “Supposedly, the Lucchese boots will be more comfortable, but I honestly don’t know.”