Page 42 of The HalloQueen

A deep laugh rumbled from him and he shook his head, “How should we spend our day,mon amour?”

I sighed, “You’re really not going to let me go to work? I have so much to do.”

“You agreed to the terms,ma chérie,” he shrugged his slim shoulders.

I huffed and snuggled closer into him, “Well, in my defense, how was I supposed to knowthatwas going to happen?”

“Because I told you it would,” His grin widened and he sighed, tightening his arms around me.

“I thought you said you didn’t need to breathe?”

“I don’t,” he arched a brow.

“So why did you just sigh?”

“Ah, well…there are certain mannerisms that we have to teach ourselves to help blend into modern society. Someone would notice if I never breathed, or sighed, or gasped. It takes years for a newborn to be able to act well enough to pass for mortal in public.”

I slid off to his side, lightly running my fingers through his chest hair, “it sounds hard to be different.”

He shrugged, “To be Other is just to be. We are no more unusual to you than you are to us. Especially for those of us who don’t remember our mortal existence.” His phone dinged and he grinned, “Now, it appears as though Judy has arrived with our order. Would you like some crepes or a shower first?”

I stretched, my spine cracking loudly and grimaced at the unladylike sound, “I could use a shower. And some mouthwash.”

“You go hop in, I’ll get the groceries inside.”

With a loud smack on my ass and a squeal, I darted to the bathroom, turning on the shower, and before I’d even stepped in, Thomas was back, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“I thought you were getting the groceries?” I asked, leaning into him.

“I did.”

I turned my head and gave him a confused scowl, to which he answered with a dramatic eye roll, “Repeat after me, vamp - ire.”

“Repeat after me, Fuck-you,” I laughed, climbing into the clawfoot, him close behind me, “dude, this is already very tight quarters.”

“Let me take care of you.”

“I am perfectly capable of washing my own hair.”

“Oui, but I want to do it.” He spun my body easily, bringing my back to his front, and comfortably lathered and massaged my scalp with my grapefruit shampoo.

“So, you’re not avampire, but you’re a vampire?” I asked quietly, running my nails up his muscular thigh.

“I am a vampire, but not how mortals think of them. I’m assuming you think I’m about to fly away as a bat, or turn into dust in the sun, or begin maniacally laughing at and counting everything?”

“Or sparkling.”

He snorted lightly, “right. Sparkly vampires.Non, ma chérie, those are called the Undead. I am not Undead.”

I scrunched my face in confusion and tilted my head back under the spray, pausing to kick the plastic curtain off my leg, “wait, but you’re not dead, but you still exist so you’re Undead.”

“Non, I’m Other.”

“That's confusing.”

He turned me and began to smooth in my color depositing conditioner, chuckling at the purple cream in his hand, “non, because many things are Others.”

“Like Frasier.”

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