“Get in,” he said as he slipped over to the driver’s side.
I complied, settling into the passenger seat, then passed him a look. “Clearly, please isn’t in your vocabulary.”
“Not when it’s a common sense ask,” he replied as he started the car and pulled out of the spot. As he wheeled around the parking garage, heading toward the exit on the lower level, my heart thumped a little harder.
Out beyond the Spires.
I believed I wouldn’t see it for the next ten years, yet here he was, taking me out like the excursion was no big deal, when this gesture meant the world to me. He pressed a button on his keys, and the parking garage door opened, bringing in bright sunlight. The car zipped out onto the street, and the sense of freedom cascaded over me, effervescent. Today, Cillian was taking me out. We weren’t boss and personal assistant, captor and captive. We were simply Cillian and Beau, and the ability to enjoy this with him sank into my veins, as heady as the sunshine.
“Are we going somewhere indoors?” I asked.
“I’m a bastard, but I’m not that mean,” he teased, driving down the streets with ease. The sight of his thick forearms, hiscasual clutch on the wheel as he navigated was sexy as sin, and I couldn’t quite look away. The cabin of the car was larger than a human model, clearly designed to fit bigger monsters, which fascinated me.
Right, so outdoors but somewhere I didn’t know in Peregrine City. Which, truth be told, could be a fair amount of places. I’d lived here for the past few years, but I was more interested in adventuring between the pages of a book rather than exploring new areas by my lonesome. Maybe making more friends would’ve helped, but I’d never been apt at that either.
“Do I get a hint at least?” I asked as he zipped out of the casino district and nearer some of the richer areas I didn’t often travel to.
“You’ll enjoy it.” Cillian winked my way and continued to speed along through the city, the vibrant life everywhere flashing around me. Passersby on every sidewalk, people shouting at each other, cars honking, the traffic breaking and swelling. The windows of the high-rises on either side of me glittered like diamonds. Part of me desperately missed being out there among all this, but another part had begun enjoying my time in the Spires as well. The people there I’d come to trust, the haunting corridors and gigantic library, the sense of safety I felt…and him.
I sank into the thrum of the engine beneath us, the car zooming through the city at top speed, and the intoxicating sunshine wrapped up with his presence. My whole body sparked with a liveliness I’d been craving for a long while now, since before I’d even been sent up to the Spires.
“Up ahead,” Cillian said, starting to slow down. A massive metal gate barred the way, looming buildings on either side. I wasn’t sure what he expected to show me outside, but it looked like we headed to another high-rise. He paused at a metal stand outside the gate and rolled the window down. “Mal, it’s me.”
A second later, the doors creaked open, and Cillian drove forward. A smug smile clung to his lips that I wanted to lick off, to run the tip of my tongue along his fangs, to drink in his intoxicating taste over and over again.
When I glanced forward again, my breath snagged. We drove down a narrow road, but at the end of it lay another wrought-iron entrance. Beyond that, though, all I could see was green. A tunnel lay past the entryway, surrounded by dangling wisteria with its pale purple blooms, and the trees that towered in the distance were majestic, ones that must’ve taken ages to grow. I rolled down my window, and the crisp, verdant scent traveled my way at once.
“What is this?” I asked as Cillian drove through the entrance and tunnel, the wisteria dangling overhead.
“The Slumbering Garden,” he said, taking the tunnel at a leisurely pace. “It’s a private garden my friend Mal owns, so there’s a reason why you wouldn’t have heard of it before.”
“Ah, is this something only high society knows about?” I asked. The sweet breezes through the window enchanted me, and we hadn’t even parked.
“Monsterkind,” Cillian said. “Mal’s a dragon shifter. Even though we’re thinly accepted in big cities like this, that’s not how the reception is farther out. And refuge is needed even here.”
Heat flushed through me. How little I knew about the people I’d walked alongside for years. “I can see that. I grew up outside the city, and the views toward monsters weren’t as tolerant…and that’s putting it mildly.”
“Surprising you turned out as open-minded as you are, then,” he said, pulling out of the tunnel. A small stretch of asphalt made for a parking lot, and beyond it lay the entrance with a pale green and gold sign that read “Slumbering Gardens,” along with more greenery than I could focus on.
“I was always the odd kid in my hometown,” I murmured, my chest tightening at the memories. Books had been my steadfast companions through it all. “Changes your perspective.”
Cillian pulled to a park and then placed a hand on my leg. “I hate to break it to you…but you’re still odd.”
I blinked. “Was that…a joke, Cillian Ashmore?”
He let out a bark of a laugh, as brilliant and sharp as sunlight, and cracked his door open. “You won’t get another from me.”
I stepped out of the car, and my knees wobbled for a minute, as the reality I was outside the Spires sank in again. The sun shone brightly today, the sky an aching blue, just puffy white clouds marching across the horizon.
“Come on, there’s a lot to see.” Cillian had started to walk toward the entrance, where the sweet breezes and the sound of trickling water beckoned. Flowers were in bloom, splashes of yellows and pinks, violets and blues, batches of them visible even from here.
We started down the pathway, where rosebushes of every variety and shade bracketed either side. The perfume was intoxicating, and I drank in the scent.
“This must be your favorite thing,” I commented as I knelt to smell one of the butter-yellow blooms.
Cillian arched a brow.
“Your rose tattoo? Unless that has some other significance.”
