THE BEAST PRINCE'S HUMAN MATE

I HAVE TRAVELED AROUND the world. I've walked the Great Wall of China, eaten dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower, and ridden the bullet train from Tokyo to Osaka. I've led an army into battle on dragonback, seduced a vicious mafia boss, and traveled back in time to fall in love with everyone from Vikings to the Knights of the Round Table. I've lived a thousand lives. Too bad the only real one f*****g sucks. I close the book, a good one about a ghost hunter who falls in love with the spirit she's supposed to track down. The bookstore is dead quiet today. Typical for autumn. Once tourist season ends, Blackridge hibernates. I press my palm against the moist glass. Rain here is as typical as a bear shitting in the woods. I like it anyway. Makes me feel less guilty for huddling inside, away from everything and everyone else. The door jingles open and Josie and Tiffany walk in, nattering to each other. Middle-aged, wine-loving, clique-y. Wives of two of the fishing guides. "Hello," I say. "How are you two ladies today?" Josie stops and puts her hands on her hips. "Aria, I walk past this shop every day and you're in the window every single time. Doesn't Richard give you a day off?" "Oh, I ask to work this much." I stand behind the till. "Keeps me busy." Josie and Tiffany exchange a pitying glance. "I thought I saw your father driving into town the other day," Tiffany says slowly. "Where was he this time?" "He just came back from Petra. In Jordan." I turn away so they won't see my face flush. "He's on the road again, though." "No Wolves in Petra, then?" Josie squeaks, laughter behind her words. "No," I mutter. "He hasn't found what he's looking for yet." "Come on, let's check the new magazines." Tiffany pulls Josie to the back of the shop. I lean against the counter and put my head in my hands. Maybe this is why Richard keeps me around, the circus act for regulars to come and taunt. I grab a stack of magazines and carry them to the back. "It's a pity. She graduated, what, eight years ago? If it weren't for her father, I bet she'd have left with all the rest of the young folk." Josie's voice drifts through the stacks. I step behind a shelf and quietly pull out a book to peer at them. "Of course it's her father's fault," Tiffany whispers back. "She's a beauty, there's no denying. Looks like one of them old movie stars, don't you think? No wonder Michael Poussin was all over her. Remember, Michael ?" "How could I forget?" Josie swoons. "He was the best thing that ever happen to her. Shame he didn't take her to the city with him. Saved her life, but couldn't save her from her father's madness. Been twenty years of Crazy Rowan's ramblings!" Tiffany covers her mouth with her hand. "It was funny at first. But now it's just sad. He'd rather throw away his money and his daughter's future than accept his wife ran off." "No, no, she was stolen by Wolves! Maybe Santa's got her working away in his toyshop." Josie lets out a cackle and Tiffany swats her arm. My face flushes and tears prick the corners of my eyes. I want to storm out and scream that Papa isn't mad, that he's getting closer to what he needs. But they're not wrong about everything. Michael did save my life. Head down, I slink to the front counter and force a smile until they leave. Nothing will change the fact I'm always going to be different. Maybe they're right about him. Maybe they're right about me. THE SKY HAS DARKENED to a deep gray, streetlights flickering on as I shrug on my coat to lock up. Richard's doing the monthly inventory, his dirty plaid jacket hanging over the boxes as he tears one open. "Okay, I'm heading out now," I call. "See you later, Richard." He grunts a response, but as I place my hand on the door, his deep voice bellows, "What the f**k are these?" He holds up a couple of the latest romance paperbacks I ordered. I snatch one from him with a delighted squeal. "They finally came! Our collection has been stale, so I ordered some things to freshen it up. This one is a romance about a magical university, and this is a contemporary about a girl who pretends to be her brother to play hockey—" "Romances?" Richard spits. "Aria, how many times have I told you? These don't sell." He slaps his forehead with a palm. "How much budget did you waste on this drivel?" I tug the book against my chest. "It's not drivel…" Richard digs through the box like an angry mole. "Is this whole damn order romance? What kind of i***t are you?" He stares straight at me, eyes squinty and dark. "They're going back." "But, if you'd let me put them on display—" "Listen, Hart," my boss snarls. "You'd think for living here your whole damned life, you'd know the people in this town don't like change. They want the authors they know. And they especially don't want mindless, unrealistic garbage like this. The only person in this town foolish enough to eat this s**t up is you." You can't talk to me like that. I quit. The words rush through my head, but my throat is dry and my heart beats too fast. You need this job. Papa needs the money. Instinctively, I tug down the left sleeve of my sweater. "I-I'll make sure to send the books back. First thing tomorrow." Richard sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "You know, I was friends with Rowan back in the day." Rowan. My father. "I want to keep you employed for his sake. Don't make that so hard, okay?" I nod, taking a deep inhale to suck back my tears. "Okay." Somewhere, I find an ounce of courage and whisper, "Before we send them back, can I buy two?" Richard waves an idle hand. "Fine. Grab what you want. I'll take it out of your paycheck." I choose two books and tuck them into my purse. "Goodnight." "Goodnight, Aria," he says somberly. As if dealing with me is the worst part of his day. I step outside into the rain, wishing above all else I could be anywhere but here.