The streets were busy even for a late Sunday afternoon. Tourists were everywhere, snapping pictures of buildings. Drunken stumbling was at a minimum, but I knew in a couple of hours there’d be someone, most likely multiple someones, who would be sitting down on the narrow sidewalks because they simply couldn’t walk any longer.
A wry grin tugged at my lips. Most locals stayed far, far away from Bourbon, staying off the known streets and into the lesser parts of the French Quarter or hanging in the business district. There were times I’d rather take a swim in the muddy Mississippi than walk on Bourbon, but when I was gone for a while, I missed the craziness. Probably because I hadn’t lived here my entire life, and in many ways, I was still a newbie to Nola.
Cafe Du Monde was about five minutes from the heart of the Quarter, but the space under the green and white pinstriped awning was always packed, as it was today.
Sighing, I sidestepped a couple who’d apparently decided holding hands while walking at the speed of a three-legged turtle was an appropriate thing to do. The line up ahead was ridiculous, but I’d come this far, so I was getting a damn beignet—
A cold draft stirred my curls. Goosebumps raced across my skin as I stopped under the covered walkway. My right hand floated to my side as I whipped around, ignoring the startled curse from the boy in a waiter’s white uniform. My heart jumped into my throat.
The prince stood behind me.
Chapter Five
Holy shit.
I took a step back, bumping into someone. The person said something, but I didn’t hear them or care. Part of me couldn’t believe I took an actual step away, like I was afraid, but I was beyond caught off-guard.
The prince of the damn fae stood in front of me, and he looked like he belonged in the Otherworld.
Or in an Anne Rice novel.
His raven-colored hair brushed broad shoulders cloaked in a white linen shirt. Like before, he must’ve forgotten to button it completely. Unlike normal fae, his skin wasn’t silvery, but bronze, and stood out in stark relief against the whiteness of his shirt. He’d ditched the breeches, though. He was rocking some leather pants now and . . . combat boots.
Actually, the prince looked like he belonged in New Orleans.
Snapping out of my surprised stupor, I became aware of the hum of conversation around us and I felt the warm breeze return. The sugary scent of beignets filled my nostrils, and I saw a middle-aged brunette openly gawking at him, and even though I found his very being to be disturbingly unsettling, I could admit that his perfectly symmetrical, angular face was beautiful. It was the kind of beauty that was almost hard to look upon. Like if he was just a picture on the Internet, you wouldn’t believe he was real. But he was, and there wasn’t a flicker of warmth or compassion in his features.
I lifted my right hand, reaching for my iron stake out of instinct, even though I knew it would do no good against the prince.
“You shouldn’t do that.” His voice was deep with what reminded me of an English accent. “I know you want to, but it would be very, very unwise of you, Ivy.”
My hand twitched.
Creepy Prince smiled slightly. “Your friend has been very helpful.”
That got my hackles up. I slid my sunglasses onto my forehead and forced my tone to stay calm and level. “I’m sure she has. Speaking of Val, happen to know where I can find her?”
His lips curled in a semblance of a smile as he stepped closer. The prince was tall, taller than Ren, who was pushing six foot two. My entire back stiffened as I forced myself to hold my ground, even though every instinct demanded that I run and run super fast, because he had almost killed me once before. Correction. He would have definitely killed me if he hadn’t realized what I was and had, I guessed, healed me.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, instead of answering my question, his pale blue eyes fixed on mine.
My hand curled into a useless fist. “That is extremely creepy to hear.”
That cold smile returned. “Why don’t we talk? There are seats across the way.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
The slow smile increased but never reached his eyes. “Oh, I know it is.”
Fine hairs rose on my arms.
“What exactly can you do right now?” he said in the same coldly polite voice. “Refuse me?” Creepy Prince laughed, and it wasn’t a bad sound. Again, it was something that was just cold, as if he were mimicking what a human would do. “You can’t.”
“I can.” My palm itched to grab the thorn stake secured under my pant leg, but I held still. I might be reckless, but I wasn’t stupid.
“Really? I will have to beg to differ on that. You see, humans surround us. So many of them, and I have an extraordinary appetite.” His eyes appeared to glimmer as his gaze slithered from the top of my curly head down to my toes. “A rather impressive appetite for many, many things.”