Up ahead, the Eiffel Tower came into view as they moved past the bridge. Even from this distance, the structure was something to behold.
Harley let out a little snort. “You have a lot more faith in your wolf talents than I do. I was lucky to figure out the vampire was bad news and that was only because I saw all those teeth.”
“It can be tricky when you’re new to the whole werewolf thing,” Sawyer said as they paused across the street from the Eiffel Tower. They both had to crane their necks to see all the way to the top, but it was worth it. Up close, it was truly spectacular. “I know my instincts got better over time. How long has it been since you went through your change?”
Harley doubted that was the issue, and even though she knew the exact date she’d turned, she did the math in her head anyway for the hell of it. “Eight years. I was twenty when I turned.”
When Sawyer didn’t say anything, Harley looked away from the gorgeous gigantic tower in front of her to see him standing there looking a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t hard to figure out why.
“Let me guess,” she said drily. “You’ve been a werewolf for less than that, right?”
“Yeah.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “I turned four years ago. But I don’t know much about our kind, so maybe it’s less about time and more about experiences. Being part of MI6, I kind of had to figure out how to make this thing work for me—fast.”
Considering she’d spent the vast majority of her time as a werewolf completely ignoring that part of herself, she imagined Sawyer was probably right, though she doubted if he’d understand. Not wanting to talk about the reasons behind why she never tried to tap into her inner werewolf, she turned and took a few pictures of the Eiffel Tower. Harley had to fight the urge to talk Sawyer into joining the ridiculously long line of people waiting to climb the steps to the top for a view of the city. But the wait was probably two or three hours. They didn’t have the time.
Reluctantly turning away from one of the places she’d wanted to visit her whole life, she fell into step beside Sawyer as they began walking again.
“How far is it to the Pont Alexandre?” she asked, praying Sawyer didn’t start asking questions she wasn’t ready to answer as they made their way to the bridge. She might trust Sawyer with her life, but she wasn’t ready to share all her secrets. Not when she refused to even discuss most of them with herself.
“About a mile,” he murmured. “Probably less than twenty minutes.”
Harley wasn’t so sure about that, considering how much stuff there’d be to look at along the way, but she didn’t bother pointing that out. She followed the sidewalk as it began to veer to the right, figuring she’d walk faster when there wasn’t as much to see in this area. That would give her extra time for the good stuff.
They mostly talked about the sights as they walked and it quickly became apparent Sawyer knew a lot more about Paris than she did. That only made sense considering he lived across the channel. When they weren’t discussing the buildings, scenery, or passing people, the main topic of interest was Adriana and her story about the supernatural auction. No matter how many times Harley thought they were done with the subject, she found her mind coming back to it. She couldn’t understand why a group of supernaturals would do something like this to others of their kind. Wasn’t it bad enough they had to worry about being grabbed up by the torch and pitchfork crowd? To have to look over their shoulders for other supernaturals coming after them was all kinds of wrong.
“Do you think there’s any chance the kidnappers could have gotten their hands on a werewolf?” she asked.
She wasn’t sure why that thought terrified her more than the idea of someone like Adriana being grabbed. But for some reason, it did.
“I’d like to think it’d be impossible to catch a werewolf by surprise,” he said as they made their way across the ornate Pont Alexandre that spanned the Seine River, to the Champs-Élysées beyond it. “But considering they have other supernaturals working for them, like that guy who can disappear and reappear at will, it’d be silly to think we wouldn’t be as vulnerable as anyone else.”
That wasn’t very reassuring.
It was dark by the time they reached the heart of the shopping and entertainment area along the crowded street. The beautiful store windows helped distract her from thoughts of the supernatural auction and the people who ran it. She and Sawyer wandered into several of the stores, and although everything was way too expensive for her to afford, it was fun anyway. Thankfully, Sawyer didn’t look at her like she’d lost her mind when she spent a crazy amount of time oohing and aahing over a particular pair of Jimmy Choo strappy sandals so gorgeous she almost cried. In fact, he seemed to enjoy how happy something as simple as a pair of shoes made her.
When the thrill of window-shopping started to wear off, they found a quaint restaurant that was perfect for an early evening dinner. But then she got a look at the prices on the leather-bound menu displayed on a stand outside the place and thought maybe they should go to the McDonald’s down the street. A salad cost as much as she normally paid for an entire dinner at the places she usually went.
“Look at these prices,” she said.
Sawyer chuckled. “Come on. How often are you going to get a chance to eat at a fancy French restaurant in Paris? Besides, I’m paying, so you don’t have to feel bad about spending so much money.”
Harley opened her mouth to say he didn’t have to do that, but Sawyer was already holding open the door for her. Deciding she could tell him after they were seated, she walked into the restaurant. And stared. Between the elegant tables with their fancy, folded cloth napkins, satin curtains on the picture-perfect windows, and the delicate chandeliers, Harley felt like they’d stepped into a fairy tale.
The hostess led them to one of the small dining rooms that made up the building’s first floor. Only big enough to accommodate six intimate tables, the walls were covered in rich wood wainscoting and paintings straight out of the Renaissance. Best of all, there were no other people seated in there. Knowing she’d have Sawyer all to herself was inexplicably satisfying.
Harley was surprised when Sawyer pulled her chair out for her as they sat down. She definitely didn’t have a problem with chivalry but didn’t have a lot of experience with it. She hadn’t gone on a lot of dates since becoming a werewolf.
Not that this was a date, she reminded herself. They were simply two werewolves having dinner. At the same table. Together. That’s all.
Their server, a tall, thin guy with dark hair, appeared at the table the moment they were seated to describe some of his favorite dishes on the menu. Everything he recommended sounded delicious, but truthfully, as an alpha werewolf who hadn’t eaten anything substantial in the past twenty-four hours, she yearned for something with lots and lots of protein. Sawyer must have felt the same because they both ended up ordering the same thing—beef fillet with pepper sauce, thin-cut french fries, spinach with cheesy Mornay sauce, a Caesar salad on the side, and crème brûlée for dessert. Harley refused to do the math to figure out how much all of that was going to cost. Like Sawyer had said, it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.