I wave my hand in the air. “Whatever.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER FIVE – PIE
After several hallways, an escalator, and a short set of stairs—none of which I recall from last time—we finally make it to Tarq’s glass-walled office. He’s on the phone, but he’s facing me and a smile appears as we approach. And thank my lucky stars, he’s wearing clothes.
In fact, now that I think about it, every monster we passed on the way up here was wearing pants.
They are not the same kind of pants humans wear, though. They are a little bit like the pants Pell wore for a day. Tight—way too tight because his huge package is clearly outlined—and stopping at the knee.
I’ve worn pants since I’ve gotten my new legs and I completely understand the cropped look. All the anatomical bits below my knee are just awkward in pants.
Tarq’s breeches appear to be made of very fine leather. They are light tan, almost the color of butter. And they remind me of a designer purse. Soft and smooth, begging to be caressed.
He’s wearing a vest under his jacket—the word ‘waistcoat’ appears from the depths of my mind—and it’s a very pale robin’s-egg blue color. The outer coat is leather, like the pants, and it’s the same buttery color. It’s not a suit coat or a sports jacket that men wear in my world. It’s a bit longer. More dramatic. The cuffs are very wide and a bit of white fabric trails out from underneath the edge near his wrist. Not lace, just cotton, I think. But it’s fancy like lace and adds a touch of pirate to his look.
The fur on his legs below the knee is as smooth as the skin on his clean-shaven face and his hooves are so polished and shiny, they are like mirrors.
Tarq holds up a finger, then turns his back to finish his conversation. I study the fine embroidery on the back of his coat. It’s tucked into some kind of wide dart at his waist, with buttons on either side.
He looks like something out of the eighteenth century, but the contrast of the modern office surrounding him is a good reminder that I’m in a different world.
A whole other world. And I get it—the mere fact that he’s a monster should be enough of a reminder. But I’m a monster now too. It’s no longer enough to shock me.
“Well, Miss Vita,” Luciano says, “I will leave you to it. But you, my sweet little bird friend”—he lifts his hand up to my shoulder, a signal he wants Pia to hop on—“you must come with me and we’ll sort you out with human resources.”
“Wait. What? No. She can’t leave now. I need her. Can’t she do that crap later?”
“You’ll be fine,” Pia says, settling on Luciano’s finger. “It shouldn’t take long. And we can use the bonus.”
What bonus? I want to say. But before I can object, they turn and walk away.
I deflate again. Sigh. And I’m just about to morph back into my pouting monkey-walk posture when the office door opens behind me.
I turn to face my new boss and get an up-close-and-personal look at the outline of his package underneath those skin-tight leather pants.
When my eyes meet Tarq’s, he’s grinning wildly. He walks towards me, reaches for my hand, takes it, kisses it, and stares into my eyes. His are yellow, like Pell’s. But then again, nothing at all like Pell’s.
“Miss Vita. I had almost given up on you.” He lets go of my hand, takes a step back—like, is he trying to give me a good view of his junk?—and then spreads his arms wide. “You look fantastic. The other nymphs in the office will be insanely jealous of this outfit.”
My eyebrows go up. “Other nymphs? There are others?”
“Oh, herds of them.”
“Really?” Hmm. This is interesting. I don’t know why I thought I was the only one, but I did. And the prospect of meeting more wood nymphs—maybe even making a friend or two—well. Color me intrigued.
“I keep forgetting that your world is so different. You really don’t have nymphs or satyrs there?”
“No. Just me as far as wood nymphs go. At least that I know of. Saint Mark’s has a lot of new satyrs. But I don’t think they’re supposed to be there because they’re locked behind the walls of the sanctuary. Oh. And we have a Tomas.”
“Tomas?”
“He’s the dragon chimera.”
“Oh, right.” Tarq smiles again. It’s wider this time. And a little bit… mischievous. “I didn’t meet him when I took my trip through the tomb. But maybe one day.”
“Oh. This reminds me. Can I ask you a question?”