If I thoughtbusiness class was amazing, then I was about to get my eyes opened. We were each on either side of the aisle, as there was a seat-slash-bed arrangement for each person that took up what would probably be three seats in economy. I wanted to protest, to walk farther down the aisle to where I should be seated, but Lucien guided me into my seat with a hand on my tailbone. He stowed my carryon bag, then opened his own, pulling out a bag stuffed with fabric.
“What is…?” I craned my neck, wanting to see what was in there, hoping it would give me a clue about this trip, but no such luck. I did take a deep breath when he pulled everything free. Max, that was what I got first, my hands snatching the T-shirt my mate had worn at Scarlet’s club from Lucien’s fingers and clutching it to my chest before I could even think. Lucien smiled down at me as I blinked at him, confused.
“It’s the only way I could get Max to let you go for the trip. He knew you’d still be needy for him, and he wants his scent in your nose all the time.”
He then offered me the other garments much more slowly—Tobias, Beau, their sandalwood, salt, and tobacco scents filling my nose. I grabbed them greedily as well before he passed me one last one. The kind of singlet a man might wear to the gym, it was musky and dark with Lucien’s scent. Yeah, I wanted that real bad. I tugged it out of his hand, the soft blanket they’d wrapped around me the night of the club visit with it.
“This is a bloody long trip, so you’ll need something to help you through it. Just keep breathing us in, omega, and we’ll be there that bit sooner.”
He meant well, giving me all of these scent marked pieces of cloth, but no amount of smells would push aside the growing anxiety. I’d never been overseas before, never even dreamed of going to Europe, and now…? I couldn’t finish that thought, furnish it with details, and that had me shifting restlessly in my seat as we went through the usual takeoff procedure.
Something Lucien seemed to feel as well. He had a drink in front of him, his hand wrapped around the glass as the plane began to take off. I felt like a dick, looking up and down the aisle, before reaching out and grabbing his hand. He shot me a shamefaced but grateful look, squeezing my fingers hard, right up until we heard that thump that alerted us to the fact the plane was in the air.
So travel isall exciting and shit, but the actual travelling on a plane for over twenty-four hours thing? Never had I wished I lived in a country a little closer to the rest of the western world, because when we stumbled out of the plane, we were both wide-eyed and dazed. The customs officers seemed to sense this, thankfully speaking English as they processed our documents, but that faded as we left the airport, bags in tow.
“This is Paris,” I said as we stepped into the shuttle that took us to the main terminal. I craned my neck, looking out of the windows, straining to catch a glimpse of what was supposed to be one of the most beautiful places in the world, but I just saw stars and a night sky.
“No, this is Paris,” he said when we got out of the main terminal and into the car waiting for us, a liveried driver standing there to take our bags.
And it was. I peered out the windows, seeing buildings, roads, lights, and edifices that had been built a long time before my people decided to try their luck in Australian colonies.
“These are the boulevards Baron von Haussmann constructed in the nineteenth century from what remained of a patchwork of medieval and modern architecture.”
I stared out the window at the blocks of what would in Australia be utilitarian flats, square little boxes made to shove as many people into a small area as possible, but here, with the fluted shapes of the roofs, the small patios with wrought iron railings, the big windows complete with thick white frames, it looked like heaven. When we pulled up in front of just one of those beautiful buildings, my eyes went wide.
‘Elysia’ read the golden sign, out the front of a grand doorway. It wasn’t ostentatious, and that made it all the more intimidating, because it made the swankiness more apparent.
“No, Lucien…” I said as the car came to a stop and the driver got out to retrieve our bags. I took in the small fluted glass awning, the elaborate black and gold framed doors. “Lucien, I can’t walk into a place like that…”
I meant to saywearing what I had on, but really, there were no clothes I was OK wearing in a lobby like that. The driver set our bags on the curbside, and a man in old-fashioned livery stepped forward to take possession of them.
“Lucien!” I hissed that at him as he opened his door and held a hand out.
“It’ll be all right, omega.”
“No, no, I won’t. I can’t—”
Before I could say a word, I was tugged closer, then he kissed me until all the tension had left my body and I was left standing there, blinking.
“Let me do this for you, Sage. It’s just a hotel in a city somewhere. They see all sorts of people come in looking like they were dragged backwards through a hedge, and their staff are famously discreet because we pay them thousands of dollars for that privilege.”
“Thousands…?” I said weakly.
“Thousands, and that’s not even a drop in the ocean of what I’m prepared to pay to give you the best. That’s what this is about, Sage—giving you everything I can think of that you might enjoy.”
He stared at me, willing me to understand, to unbend enough to let him spoil me, and when I had that realisation, I finally let out the breath I was holding. I had an instinctive hatred of being looked after, having been forced into the caretaker role by so many people I knew—everyone but Nikki. If she had sprung for a hotel room, I’d be sprinting up those stairs, screaming for a margarita, but instead, I’d need to walk in much more circumspectly with Lucien.
“Is that what this is about?” I asked him in a soft voice. “Teaching me how to let go and let you look after me?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “You’re so strong and competent, but everyone wants to lay that burden down sometimes, me included. I can just about feel the soft bed under me, cradling my aching spine as I hold you close. I need that just as much as I need a big bottle of water and a small glass of Scotch.”
“You want me to massage out all your kinks for you?” I asked, feeling a flutter of flirtation, but that kinda died when the driver approached us.
“Everything is taken care of, monsieur. One of our drivers will be at your disposal tomorrow.”
To go where?I wanted to ask.And why?
“Thank you.” Lucien handed the man a folded note and then whisked me towards the front door, the porter bringing our bags in behind us.