I need panties not palm-reading predictions.
Karen stands at the door and taps her foot. Perth chuckles and jogs forward to open it.
“After you,” he declares, all gentlemanly. His smile is more naughty than chivalrous though, and he looks at me like we’re sharing a secret.
Only—I’m not aware of any secret.
A little thrill runs down my spine at the gleam in his golden gaze. Karen darts into the shop ahead of me, but I pause as I walk past Perth. My body hums with some unspoken energy, and I move closer to him like I’m a satellite caught in his gravitational pull. Face to face, we watch each other—studying. Tabulating. What, exactly?
No idea.
He’s taller than me, lean defined muscle adding to his bulk and making him thicker than me too. Freckles dapple his face, and there’s a playful challenge bristling between us that makes my heart pump faster. I breathe him in, sipping on his clean cotton scent that’s mixed with a rich musk and a hint of smoke that’s kissed by something deep and slightly floral.
Damn, did I really just get all that from one quick sniff?
I feel a ridiculous amount of triumph when he looks away first, waving me into the shop like he’s an overly polite doorman. His smile grows wider like he’s pleased as punch about whatever just happened.
He likes that I smelled him?
I finally snap out of this weird trance he’s pulled me into and step inside.
Stunned, I find it’s three times the size it appears from outside. The wood planks of the floor are painted jet black. A chandelier hangs in the center of the high ceilings, filled with so many shimmering crystals that the walls are painted with rainbows from the reflections. A large antique mirror with a gold frame leans against a long wall, but the one thing I don’t see anywhere is clothing.
Um, hello, Karen. What the fuck is this?
Expectantly, I look over at Perth, hoping he’ll clue me in on the inside joke that’s clearly taking place. Maybe we stopped by this store for something else? But Perth just grins at me and wags his eyebrows annoyingly. Before I can turn to Ruger in hopes that he’ll take pity on my ignorance, the draped beads that cover a back doorway clack and part, revealing the two women I saw in the coffee shop.
“Welcome!” the older woman coos in greeting. “I’m Astrid, and this is Trista, my daughter.”
I offer them both a pleasant smile. Trista is wearing an outfit that Wednesday Addams would wear if she were the boss bitch of a major corporation. She has a sleek, pulled-back bun, a crisp white button-down shirt, onyx wide-leg trousers, and a bolo tie. It’s the epitome of sophisticated goth vibes.
Astrid’s look is on the hippie, flowy, opposite side of the spectrum. Layered necklaces, a long rust-colored skirt and cream top. Her weathered hands are covered in rings, and I spot rows of piercings that decorate the outer edges of both her ears, along with a dainty, barely-there septum ring in her nose.
They’re both cooler looking on their worst day than I could ever be on my best.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Trista offers as she snatches up my hand just as soon as her mother releases it. “It’s about time we got some epic new blood in Howling Rapids. Goddess knows we need it,” she assures me, her dark brown eyes twinkling with amusement even though her lips don’t curve up in even a hint of a smile.
“What are we looking for today?” Astrid asks me sweetly. “Something flashy to celebrate your mating? Or maybe a few gifts? Set the tone for the well-deserved spoiling your future holds?”
“Noah is a naif,” Karen offers. “She’s just learning about eeries. And her guys, bless their dumb little hearts, didn’t think to get her squared away with real clothes. They got her fast-fashion crap, not the good stuff she deserves.”
Both Astrid and Trista gasp as though Karen just announced war crimes have been committed instead of shopping at a big-box, everything-in-one-place kind of store.
“Well, boil me in a cauldron,” Astrid whispers, pressing a hand to the multitude of necklaces on her chest as she once again looks me over. I wait to see a sliver of judgment or pity enter her surveying stare, but all I find is a glint of support and determination. “You must be losing your shit right now,” she declares evenly. “About the clothes, sure. But just about…you know, everything.”
I bark out a laugh and then cover my mouth when it echoes loudly through the mostly empty room. “Understatement of the century.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Trista assures me. “We’ll get you squared away. Ready for the new and exciting dick…” She coughs and pats her chest dramatically. “Oops…I mean, things you’re about to face.”
Karen cackles that creepy witch-cackle again, and Trista wraps her arm around my shoulders and steers me toward a raised platform that’s positioned in front of the huge mirror.
I look up and catch Ruger’s watchful gaze in the reflection. An amused smile stretches across his face, and I feel my cheeks pink. Perth is getting comfortable on a dark tan sofa that I swear wasn’t there when we walked in. He tosses his arms wide across the back, still wearing that impish grin that’s doing strange things to my insides.
Why do I feel so affected by them today? Is this because of Ellery, or is this something else?
“Let’s get you measured,” Trista announces eagerly, even though her face is so stoic it almost makes me do a double take. It’s like she’s a ventriloquist without the dummy, her tone is glitter and rainbows while her face is fuck around and find out.
“Okay,” I agree hesitantly as I try to bat away my confusing thoughts.
Astrid and Trista both close in around me. I expect them to grab a measuring tape or something similar to get started, but when they each pull a pair of lime green hexagonal crystals from their pockets and start running them over my shoulders and back, I’m at a loss for words.
The crystals are cold through my clothes, bumping over my bones and sliding over my skin. Astrid rolls hers all the way up from my wrist to my shoulder blades. Trista skates hers down my spine and over my hip, not stopping until she’s crouched over and pressing the sharp point of the crystal against my ankle.
Did they confuse clothing with chakra cleansing?
“So, how does this”—I vaguely wave a hand at the crystals as they continue to glide up and down my body parts—“work, exactly?”
“Oh, I can’t wait for you to see,” Astrid exclaims, her tone dipped in sweet excitement the way an ice cream cone might be dipped in chocolate. “We rarely get to meet people who have never seen magic before. Watch,” she encourages eagerly, and just then the crystal in her hand starts to glow a bright, luminescent spring green, giving off purple sparks so brilliant I shy away from them.
A tiny gust of heat assails me, and I close my eyes against the sensation. The second I open them, I’m no longer in a baggy T-shirt and sweatpants. I’m in a black turtleneck sweater dress with a scandalous slit up the side. A pair of thigh-high black platform boots hug my long legs, and the entire outfit molds to every dip and bend of my body as though it’s painted on.
Holy fuck. Add a nifty utility belt, and I look like I could fight Batman.