Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions novel Chapter 25

Chapter 25

If I had known a simple kiss was the way to make my woman more amenable, I would have kissed the soul from her body the moment I locked eyes with her this moming. Lesson learnt.

Sitting there, watching her as she animatedly talks about her bookstore and the types of books she stacks, her excited energy palpable, has me hanging onto her every word.

The smile that touches her lips as she picks up each book and grazes her fingertips over the cover reverently makes me irrationally jealous of the way she’s looking at and touching it.

want to ruminate on our earlier kiss and how to orchestrate for it to happen again, soon. But, that being said, she deserves my undivided attention as she shares something that she’s deeply passionate about. And I intend to give her everything she deserves, no matter how tedious, or time–consuming, or insignificant it might seem

I intend to learn everything about her and what makes her who she is deep down in her core. I’m determined to remember every minute detail about her, what she talks about, what she likes, or how she likes something.

Again, that’s the difference between when I was in situationships with past mistresses, and the future I will be building with my fated mate.

Their interests, careers, or relationships outside our arrangement never mattered. I didn’t ask them how their day was, commiserate when they received sad news, bring them flowers, or buy them expensive gifts. They were someone to warm my bed regularly and a plus one when I had an important function to attend.

But I want to

to do all those t

things

for her. My Harley, my fated mate, my future vampire queen. Those things and so much more.

When she finally takes a break, her happiness at my asking engaging questions every so often is evident on her face. And that, in tum, makes me happy, on the inside. By looking at me, you couldn’t tell how I feel because I hate showing emotion and think it’s a sign of weakness. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled because of happiness or joy. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever truly been happy, content maybe, but not unadulterated happiness.

I’ll grin mischievously, cheekily, and even wickedly when called for. But a full–blown, teeth–showing smile from me because I’m happy is as rare as spotting the Loch Ness monster.

But at this moment, I feel the emotion. A rarity in and of itself for me. Unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. But only because she was the catalyst.

out

“Earlier, you spoke about the books needing to be catalogued. Can you do that here, or must it be done at the store?” I ask her so I can map what the rest of our afternoon and evening will look like. Because she can bet her fine ass I’ll be spending every moment at her side, wherever

that might be.

“I can do it from home; my laptop logs onto the server no matter where I am. Why do you ask?” she asks as she distractedly puts the books back into the box they came in.

“Just planning the rest of our day, that’s all,” I state matter–of–factly, as I peer at my wristwatch. “Italian or French? I continue without elaborating too much,

Still lost in the books in front of her, she doesn’t immediately catch onto my initial remark, but automatically answers, “italian” to my question.

As soon as she answers, I start typing a message to Griffin requesting that he make reservations for us at one of my favorite Italian restaurants. Before I send it off, I ask, “Is 7 p.m. good for you?” expecting a quick answer like the one about which cuisine she’d prefer.

This time, though, she actually pays attention to my question, and asks dumbfoundedly. “Wait, what?” as she swivels her head in my direction.

“I asked if 7 p.m. works for you so I can take you to dinner,” I answer her flatly.

“Dinner? What dinner?” she continues with the same confused look.

“The dinner you agreed to when I asked if you preferred Italian or French,” I state, brooking no argument.

But, true to her fiery personality, she doesn’t agree without a fight. “Agreed? When did I fucking agree to go to dinner with you? I would remember if I agreed to something like that,” she says as she crosses her arms underneath her breasts, inadvertently drawing my attention to them as they get pusled upwards with her action.

“Why would you not want to go to dinner with a handsome guy

buy like me?=1

me?” I ask, a cocky grin slowly spreading across my face.

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