Page 37 of Fangs for the Memories
“I want to go to...” Grace looks down at her phone. “Um…Do-han-i...number ten.”
“Dohány Ucta,” I call out to my driver. “Why do you want to go there?” I query.
“I went when I first arrived. They had the best selection of coats and scarves. But I lost all my money,” she says, not looking at me.
“How?” I demand.
“I was pickpocketed.” Her cheeks redden. “I’ve lived in London for years. You’d think I’d know better.”
I growl under my breath. I know the gang who operates in the Dohány area. They are going to suffer for this.
“And that’s the reason you couldn’t pay your bar bill at the Géllert?”
“No, I was fully intending spending all my cash on clothes.” Grace doesn’t meet my eyes. “My ex took everything from me. My dignity, my life, my business.” She looks down at her hands in her lap. “I needed to start again,” she finishes. “Although, even if I had bought anything, it would have been destroyed.”
Not for the first time since she revealed her reasons for being in Budapest, my blood simmers at the way her male has treated her.
We pull up outside the shop she wants to visit. Rather than it being a high-end boutique, which I was expecting, I see a white frontage and windows filled with secondhand items.
“Here?” I query.
“Here.” Grace beams, opening the door before I can do anything and hopping out into the snow.
I’m out of my door and round to her side in less than a heartbeat. Vampires are unlikely to try anything during the day as they do remain more vulnerable to permanent injury, but even so, the last thing I want is Grace unprotected.
She’s already at the door by the time I reach her and open it. I’m hit by the scent of what has to be a thousand humans, even if there is one person on the register and three others browsing.
Grace waves at the cashier, who initially gives her a cheerful wave back, until she sees me stood behind my mate. The smile dies from her face.
I glare at her. It’s hard to pick out scents from all the human clothing, but I don’t get any hint of vampire here.
“Ferenc?” Grace lifts her head from one of the racks she’s working through. I join her, trying not to wrinkle my nose. “You don’t have to stand there like something out of a John Wick movie,” she adds.
“Thisis the sort of place you shop?” I query, thinking about the designer items she was wearing when I first met her.
“Thisis the best place to shop. I’ve found so many amazing pieces in places like this, they usually don’t cost much, and I’m saving the planet, one designer top at a time,” Grace says, pulling a blouse from the rack and showing it to me.
The label indicates it is, indeed, a designer item. It also tells me the price, which given how much these items are new, is simply incredible.
“And you think I’m the criminal?”
Grace tucks the shirt under her arm with a chuckle and continues to work through the rack.
“I never said I wasn’t.” She laughs.
She continues to work her way around the store until she gets to the coats. They’re a mix of fur, fake fur, and items which I wouldn’t even class as coats. Grace tries a couple on and twirls for me, but I prefer her in my coat. One which now smells like her.
Once she’s done, she takes a few items to the cashier and looks at me knowingly before turning away to look through a display of bright scarves.
I put my hand in my jacket pocket for my wallet, but the young human behind the counter shakes her head.
“For you,” she says in Hungarian, “this is free.”
My blood heats. Is this what my pack has become in the minds of the humans? Protection for money?
“No,” I growl. “I will pay.”
Her face pales. I pull out far more Forint than the items are priced at and put them down in front of her.
