The three-story colonial-style home is perfectly landscaped, complete with flower baskets under each window. Two large bushes, trimmed into the shape of lions, guard the entrance while bright red flowers line the stepping stone walkway that leads to the oversized double front door.
“This is beautiful,” I whisper to Cyrus.
“Agreed,” he says, jumping from the back of the truck. I copy his movement, landing on the paved sidewalk next to him. Simon and Stella join us as we face the large home.
“Have you met this man before?” Cyrus asks.
“No,” Simon answers.
Cyrus’s head turns toward his friend. “Is he dangerous?” he asks.
“Maybe…”
My buyer’s sigh is loud enough that Lucien probably heard it. “He may not be a fan of lycan. It might be wise for me to do the talking.”
“What if he’s not a fan of vampires?” Stella asks.
“Then we’ll figure it out,” he answers.
“How about we all go?” I ask.
“Won’t that look intimidating?” Simon asks.
The front door creaks open, revealing a man who looks no older than me. His hair is the color of snow and is the perfect accent to his dark skin. His hair is brushed to the center and sticks up on the top of his head, and bright copper-colored eyes stare at each of us. “You do know I can hear and sense you?” he asks. His accent is one I can’t put a name to. Familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time.
The four of us stare at the beautiful man. “Hello,” Simon says with an awkward wave.
“Hello, lycanthrope,” the man answers. He opens both front doors with a grand display of flair. “Please, come in.”
Long fingers wrap through mine as Cyrus leads the four of us through the wrought iron gate and in front of our host. Releasing my hand, he holds it in front of him. “Cyrus Knight.” He bows slightly. “I am at your service.”
“Lucien Creed,” the man answers, shaking Cyrus’s hand. He looks past my buyer toward the rest of us. “Who have we got here?”
“Violet Du Four,” I answer.
“A lovely name for a lovely lady,” Lucien answers.
“Thank you?” I smile, not sure what the correct response should be.
He turns toward Simon. “You two are siblings, are you not?”
“Yes, sir,” Simon answers.
Lucien waves his hands. “Oh, my. Please do not call me sir. That is reserved for my father. Call me Lucien.”
“Simon Ward, and this is my sister, Stella.”
“Two beautiful women in one day,” Lucien says, taking Stella’s hand into his and lifting it to his lips. Stella’s cheeks turn a soft shade of pink.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucien,” she answers.
He turns back toward Cyrus. “Now that we know each other’s names, please, come in.”
Marble tiles, arranged in perfect squares, create a colorful pattern that welcomes us inside. The walls are covered in matching wallpaper, and an ornate gold-leaf round table sits in the middle, almost as large as the chandelier above.
“This is beautiful,” Stella says.
“Thank you,” Lucien answers. “This way, please.” He leads us into a room off the foyer that I would classify as a sitting room. Two emerald-green velvet couches sit facing each other, flanked by matching chairs. Plants as large as trees sit in each corner of the room. Each leaning toward the sunlight beaming through the oversized windows. He motions toward the couches. “Please, be seated.”
