The Unrepentant [Part Three] by Grace McGinty

Author:Grace McGinty [McGinty, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-07T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter six

I couldn’t believe we were shopping again. Seriously, who knew that a blood fuelled vendetta would come with a need for a whole new wardrobe?

But when Charlie had dragged me into the store, he’d made a good point. I couldn’t meet the mayor of Calais in bloodstained jeans or a tee that hadn’t been washed in two weeks and had its own collection of suspicious stains.

Romanus and Naz were doing recon on Town Hall, and Charlie and Rouen were doing some kind of pretty woman style makeover thing with me. Rouen, however, had directed us straight to the lingerie section of the department store, and was muttering about thigh highs and demi cups. He was currently holding up a red strip of lace that was masquerading as a thong.

“No thongs.”

Rouen gave me sad eyes. “Not even one little thong?”

I laughed and shook my head, starting back towards the practical business wear I was supposed to be looking at. I liked the playfulness we were all feeling after our forced timeout. I grabbed a plain black pencil skirt and frilly white blouse that dipped low enough to show the top curve of my breasts. It was an outfit that screamed pen-pusher, and to the casual eye didn’t say part-time murderer.

I looked at Charlie and Rouen, as they picked outfits for me, most of which I would put back as soon as they weren’t looking. Rouen in particular looked completely out of place. I could dress him up in a french maid outfit, and he would still look like a predator.

Luckily, it wasn’t going to be unusual for me to have four bodyguards when we went to the camp, especially since the recent attempt on my sisters life. Charlie’s increased strength meant he no longer had to play backup.

I matched my chosen outfit with a pair of sensible heels, in case I needed to run or kick some ass.

At the register, I placed my all the things I’d selected in front of a bored teenage shop clerk. However, Rouen dumped a handful of completely impractical lace and silk on top of my practical outfit. I raised an eyebrow at the lace garter belt and silk stockings, with matching demi bra and french cut panties.

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “When in the motherland, right?”

I mentally slapped my forehead. How had I forgotten so quickly? No wonder the Gargoyles had been so relaxed since our arrival in France. It was like catnip for their gargoyle souls. The clerk passed me a bag containing my purchases, and I wrapped my hand in Rouen’s larger one.

“When this is all done, do you think we could come back to France, and you could show me where you guys are from? Maybe visit your namesake?”

He kissed my temple. “I’d love that. But I wasn’t named after Rouen. Well, I was, but not until I died. Rouen isn’t my real name.”

My feet skidded to a stop.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me that?” It came out as a high pitched screech and I winced at the noise.

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