Page 182 of Taken By the Fae

He nods, pulling my hand away from his face. “I want to show you something.”

“Right now?” I ask, laughing as he slides off the bed and gets dressed. I do the same and smile when he offers me his hand. We walk out of the penthouse together, riding the elevator downstairs in silence. I’m too afraid to ask where we’re going, and even if I did, I feel Tristan wouldn’t tell me. He’ll never tire of surprising me, it seems.

He leads me into the parking garage, and when we get in his car, I can’t take it anymore. “Where are we going?”

“That took long enough,” he comments with a grin.

I roll my eyes. “Smartass.”

“Just give me ten minutes. No questions.” He glances over at me, his eyes twinkling. “Okay?”

Huffing out a breath, I nod. “Get a move on, Westbrook. Your ten minutes start now.”

* * *

I’m confused when he stops the car at the curb of a black brick commercial building half a dozen blocks from the hotel. The front comprises windows, but it’s too dark inside to see. There are large but empty planters on either side of the door, and I immediately envision them filled with blooming spring flowers.

I turn to Tristan. “I—”

“Ah, ah, ah. I still have…”—he checks his watch—“four minutes left.”

My eyes narrow. “Fine.”

Tristan gets out of the car and walks around to my side, opening the door for me. I take his outstretched hand and step onto the sidewalk. We walk to the front of the building, and Tristan pulls out a key, sliding it into the lock; I still can’t see what’s inside.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” he instructs.

“We’re walking into a pitch-black building.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His responding chuckle echoes off the brick alcove surrounding the door. He steps over the threshold, and I follow him, squinting at the endless darkness. Tristan closes the door and leads me a few steps farther into the room.

“You’ve pulled some creepy shit since I’ve known you, Tris, but this is—”

“Relax.” He leans in and kisses the side of my head. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

My pulse skyrockets. “You just told me not to let go of your hand.”

He tweaks my chin, and even in the darkness, I can see the smirk on his face. “I’ll be right back,” he repeats.

Biting back several snide remarks, I let go of his hand and don’t move. A few moments pass, and then, without warning, the lights come to life, illuminating the entire room in a soft golden glow.

“Oh my god…”

Bookshelves stand in rows and along each wall, fully stocked with books. There’s a counter set up with a Mac and a cash register, along with more stacks of books and one of those single-serve espresso machines. Strings of twinkling lights are hung along the upper shelves and across the front of the counter. There’s a sitting area next to the front door with a couch, a couple of electric blue wingback chairs, and a coffee table that’s covered with magazines.

This is it.

This is the bookstore I’ve always dreamed of owning, the one I told him about.

He created it.

My eyes are flying all over the room, bouncing from shelf to shelf, before they finally land on Tristan, and I am utterly speechless.

He approaches with a smile that takes my breath away and murmurs, “I love you more than anyone should even be capable of loving another person.”

My brows tug closer as my pulse kicks up. “Tristan…”

His eyes flick between mine. “I want to be with you forever, Aurora. There will never be a day—hell, amoment—that I won’t love you, respect you, cherish you. I want to heal with you, grow with you, make new memories with you.For as long as we both shall live.”

---