Page 22 of His True Beloved

“I mean it, Chrissy. I need to hear every word of it.” I rolled my eyes, jumping off the deck.

“It’s just so embarrassing, like cringe embarrassing,” I whined, stomping my foot.

“Hmm, think we will get along just fine, Chrissy. Just don’t scratch the car.”

Chapter 11

Christine

Ipulleduptothe first coffee shop I saw, probably the only coffee shop in town. My phone blasted loudly, the first ring I had heard from it in weeks. My friends had long packed up and moved out of college, most of them working for their parent’s companies or maybe traveling the world. Pulling it out, hoping to see a familiar name, but to my dismay, it was an unknown number.

Answering the phone with a questioning “Hello?” breathing on the other side ensued. “Hello?” I pulled the phone away again, still not seeing a number. Repeating myself a third time, I huffed out a breath and hung up.

Creep.

The coffee shop was rather large for a town this size. There were numerous tables, some that could hold ten people. Then I realized that this town also served another purpose, which was for the vampires and their businesses.

All the vampires were rich, or the older ones were, anyway. After living for so long, they could invest, invest, invest and just reap the benefits later. They needed some sort of coffee, right? They could eat and drink; it just didn’t give them the nourishment they needed. They needed blood.

Duh.

Some sat in the corner. The only way to know they were vampires was because I had seen them before throughout my week’s stay. They must have gotten smart and put in some contacts because not everyone in the town knew who they were. One smiled, giving me a flashy grin of his fangs. No one else in the room even looked up as he returned to his headphones and gently talked into the microphone for a call.

This coffee shop, Impending Sunrise, had me look at the various pastries and cakes. My mouth watered, looking at all the different deliciousness until I felt the heat on my back. I rose from my crouched position to quickly turn to the window. The heated gaze left, and my heart jumped in my throat. I swallowed.

That was weird.

That funny feeling in my gut wanted me to go outside and look around.This is no dream,my subconscious screamed at me, yet curiosity was pulling too.

“Hi!” I jumped at the sudden intrusiveness of a pale-faced girl with light hair and lilac highlights. Her bright pink lips and chirpy attitude had me sigh. “You scared me.” I put my hand to my erratically beating heart.

“Oh, sorry.” She put her fingers to her lips to giggle. “I do that a lot. My dad says I inherited his sneaking abilities.” My head tilted, unsure why this woman was so chipper in the morning until she held out a blueberry scone on a plate.

“Scone?” she drawled. I finally laughed at her puppy eyes. They were so sweet, and I really needed sweet right now. “I’m Pamela, your neighborhood family barista!” Her perkiness had me laughing again.

After giving me a variety of different options of which coffee and what pastry would go with said coffee, she brought it to my tiny little table. “You’re new?” she twittered as she sat it down at the lonely two-seat booth.

“Yeah.” I pulled out my tablet. “Been here about a week, moved in with my mom and her ma—boyfriend.” I smiled, trying to cover up my mistake. That was going to be tough, trying to keep things a secret after I had been drilled they were not, in fact, boyfriend and girlfriend, husband and wife, but mates. Something so much more powerful.

Internally I am rolling my eyes.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Pamela goes to turn but stops. Her eyes grow wide, jumping in her black barista top that says, “I like my men how I like my coffee.” A little winky face follows. I jumped back as she grew closer, and she then sniffed me long and hard.

“Should have known.” She wagged her finger at me. “You reek of vamp. So you’re Mom got a mate, yeah?” She sat down across the table, her head resting on her hand. “Let me hear their love story. I love these stories.” Her eyes fluttered.

This chick was obviously not a vampire. Not unless she was Suron’s sister, but the way she said I smelled like a vamp with a hint of distaste had me question. Humans aren’t supposed to know about supernaturals, only on a need-to-know basis. Like the mayor of the town who had his citizens regularly donate blood. Something about rogue something or other sometimes sneaked into the northern parts of the country and hid out here so the coven next door took care of those rogues.

“Ah.” I take a sip of my coffee. Pamela pulls my hand down and pats it.

“It’s all right, Iknooow.”

“About the whole coven living next door?” She did a dramatic nod.

“Yup, and you live with them. Sorry I didn’t sniff you better earlier. Sometimes all the coffee makes it feel like the beans live in my nose. Dad and Mom said I should just have my wolf turn the sniffer off, but I can’t. She’s quite crazy.” She rotated her finger around her temple.

Pulling my coffee from her and stuffing the pastry in my mouth, I tried to pull out of the booth until she caught my arm again. “No, I’m sorry. I’m a werewolf. I’m not a creep, promise! I get so excited meeting new people, and the humans from the coven don’t come in here often.”

“Why?” That seemed absurd. This was civilization, and humans needed coffee.

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