Blue Moon by Alyson Noël Page A

checks her watch, rolling her eyes, wanting to leave. And just as I’m about to pull away, and maybe even
accidentally
backhand Stacia while I’m at it, I
see
something so awful, so repulsive, I knock an entire rack of lingerie to the floor in an attempt to break free.
    Bras, thongs, hangers, and fixtures—all of it crashing to the ground in one big heap.
    With me as the cherry on top.
    â€œO. Migawd!” Stacia shrieks, grabbing hold of Honor as they fall all over themselves laughing at me. “You are such a freakin’
spaz
!” she says, going straight for her cell so she can capture it all on video. Zooming in to get close-up footage of me attempting to break free of a red lace garter belt that’s wrapped around my neck. “Better get crackin’ and get this cleaned up!” She squints, adjusting her angle as I struggle to stand. “You know what they say, you break it, you buy it!”
    I get to my feet, watching as Stacia and Honor bolt for the door the moment a salesperson arrives. Stacia pausing long enough to glance over her shoulder and say, “I’m watching you, Ever. Believe me, I’m not through with you yet.” Before running away.

ten
    Â 
    The moment I sense Damen turning onto my street, I run to the mirror (again) and fidget with my clothes, making sure everything is right where it should be—the dress, the bra, the new lingerie—and hoping it all stays in place (well, at least until it’s time to come off).
    After the Victoria’s Secret salesgirl and I cleaned up the mess, she helped me choose this really pretty matching bra and panty set that isn’t made of cotton, isn’t embarrassingly sexy, and doesn’t actually support or cover much of anything, but then I guess that’s the point. Then I moved on to Nordstrom where I bought this pretty green dress and some cute strappy wedges to go with it. And on the way home I stopped for a quick manicure/pedicure, which is something I haven’t done since, well, since before the accident that robbed me of my old life forever—when I used to be popular and girly like Stacia.
    Only I was never
really
like Stacia.
    I mean, I may have been popular and a cheerleader, but I was never a bitch.
    â€œWhat are you thinking?” Damen asks, having let himself in and coming straight up to my room since Sabine’s not at home.
    I gaze at him, watching as he leans against the doorjamb and smiles. Taking in his dark jeans, dark shirt, dark jacket, and the black motorcycle boots he always wears and feeling my heart skip two beats.
    â€œI was thinking about the last four hundred years,” I say, cringing when his eyes grow dark and worried. “But not in the way that you think,” I add, eager to assure him I wasn’t obsessing over his past yet again. “I was thinking about all of our lifetimes together, and how we never . . . um . . .”
    He lifts his brow as a smile plays at his lips.
    â€œI guess I’m just glad those four hundred years are over,” I mumble, watching as he moves toward me, slips his arms around my waist, and pulls me tight to his chest. My eyes grazing over the planes of his face, his dark eyes, smooth skin, his irresistible lips, drinking all of him in.
    â€œI’m glad too,” he says, his eyes teasing mine. “Nope, on second thought, scratch that, because the truth is, I’m more than glad. In fact—I’m ecstatic.” He smiles, but a moment later he’s merging his brows, saying, “No, that still doesn’t explain it. I think we need a new word.” He laughs, lowering his mouth to my ear as he whispers, “You are more beautiful tonight than you’ve
ever
been. And I want everything to be perfect. I want it to be everything you dreamed it would be. I just hope I don’t disappoint you.”
    I balk, pulling away to gaze at his face, wondering how he could even think such a thing, when