Forever in the Past and Forever in the Future

Kas’s POV

It takes a lot of convincing, but! finally talk Bronx out of bringing James or Marco on our honeymoon. He very begrudgingly agrees and only because, as a wedding gift, Henri arranged for one of his warriors to be our personal driver for the two-week trip. His name is Francis. He’s not nearly as burly as James or Marco, so! was skeptical as to why Henri would send him.

“Don’t let looks deceive you, Kas. Francis is Henri's right-hand man. He’s a technician. I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley,” Bronx says looking off into space, “Actually, you could probably learn a thing or two from him when you're ready to get into weapons training. I'll talk to Henri."

I look at the unassuming man with short bleach-blonde hair, wearing a black suit and white dress shirt. He's a chain smoker but somehow doesn't smell like cigarettes. Regardless of who he is when he isn’t driving us around Paris, he is very polite and accommodating while he does. °

On the first night after dinner, Francis has to shoo away paparazzi and escort us quickly into the car as a crowd starts to gather when we are leaving the restaurant. Bronx had warned me that the human world is different, photographers may be aggressive and try to take our picture but I didn't realize it would be twenty people ata time. He puts his hand on the small of my back and holds me close to his side while Francis safely gets us to the sedan. More flashes go off trying to get our picture through the tinted glass.

“Bronx, why are they so adamant to get our picture?” I ask watching them knock on the window begging for Bronx to roll it down and answer questions.

“T'll show you in the morning, Baby,” he sighs, sounding frustrated.

In the morning, he shows me the newspaper the hotel brings with breakfast. Sure enough, there we were on the sixth page. The headline reads ' Wedding Bells for Billionaire Mason?’ in smaller letters below, it says ‘World’s Most Eligible Bachelor, Officially Off the Market’ The short article called him mysterious and called me a petite bombshell, possibly an up-and-coming model. Maybe even an indie rock star based on my unusual hair and eye color. They even try to guess how much he spent on my wedding rings. There is a grainy picture of us having dinner in the restaurant. The next one is of us leaving the restaurant hand in hand smiling. The next is Bronx looking mad, pulling me closer to his side and Francis moving into the frame to protect us. The third was an extreme closeup of my wedding rings.

"Why do people care? It’s not their business,” I growl a little, looking at the article. I'm sitting on his lap munching on some blueberries.

"It's the human world. I’m known as the owner of a really big company. I try not to put myself out there for the world to see. When humans don't see me out and about very much they become curious. They don’t know my position in the werewolf world. Now they find out I'm suddenly in Paris with a beautiful woman no one’s seen before. It’s big news for the tabloids. Humans are nosy.

They're curious about what someone like me does when they're not working, that's all," he says as he kisses my neck.

the article, "’ unidentified, up and coming bombshell of an indie rockstar model’ like you?" "Oh. Well, according to this, you're letting me siphon all your money.

be putting a name to your face and if they do an internet search, they will

don’t like the idea of people poking around

told you people would realize how beautiful you are. Besides, there is literally nothing they can find out about you," she purrs trying to look at the bright

Lex, you're the

know." She says with

eek

We get to do so many cool things: private tours of art museums and cathedrals, even the Palace of Versailles. Lex says we lived there once, she has fond memories as

bad as I expected. With our wolf senses, I’m able to taste all the different flavors the sommeliers explain and what types of foods they are best served with. They let me ask a ton of questions and take notes on my little notepad. Bronx just sits back and chuckles watching me scribble furiously in my little book. I probably won't drink regularly but at least I

the top of the Eiffel Tower. The view

dozen purple roses. We even get to see another couple get engaged while they are taking in the sights. It is so cute!

seeing this?” I ask as

we've lived here three times. I've seen it all before," she yawns as she rolls her eyes at me and goes to curl upin the back of my mind.

to stop at Harry Winston Jewelers. Bronx tells me it’s a pretty formal place so I put on a nice dress and makeup. The sales manager is very nice but has a nervous personality. I think he is intimidated by Bronx's physical size. Anyway, they need my rings for the day so

little as the assistant takes my rings away. Another

eternity band with emerald-cut diamonds, Madame,” the assistant says in a heavy French accent, handing me the sparkly ring

at Bronx quizzically. I don’t care how much money he has, if he bought this ring, I'm going to kill

back tomorrow. Don't worry, I didn't buy it," he says as he signs

the ring and slide it on my finger. It's beautiful but not mine. It feels awkward and heavy. I'm not going to complain

the manager a little longer, discussing a necklace for Sandy's birthday. She is going to be fifty, so Bronx wants to get her something special. The manager takes notes and lets