Your Wish Is My Command Read Online Free PDF Page A

blessing than a curse.
    Oriane, island priestess and protective mama—the latter being the more dangerous by far—had damned him eternally by forcing him to bring together and nourish in others that which he could never have himself. She'd fiercely punished him for the virginity he'd stolen from her only daughter. But Sebastien had only taken what was freely given. When Oriane had demanded to know if he loved the girl, he'd answered truthfully.
    And ended up as he was now.
    However, considering that his mortal exploits most likely would have landed him in hell at an early age, this was not a bad alternative.
    He breathed the damp morning air in the Quarter and looked to the bright blue May sky. Ah, yes, this was certainly the better opportunity. And, ever the opportunist, Sebastien had made the most of his time when summoned forth.
    He stopped and looked in a store window, examining the tailored suits that draped the mannequins in such dapper fashion. Not bad, this current style. Not bad at all. This had been his longest dormant period—just over fifty years, according to the morning papers. Edgar Santini had hidden the sword well, he supposed. More likely it had merely gotten buried in the clutter that seemed to flourish wherever Edgar lingered. Ah, Edgar. A smile crossed Sebastien's face as he pushed the door open and entered the clothier's narrow shop. As he was fitted for his new wardrobe, he recalled those weeks of reckless abandon with great pleasure. Yes, Edgar had known how to have fun. And New Orleans had never forgotten how to deliver it. Matching Edgar with the young and beautiful Lucille Bergaret had been one of his more brilliant achievements. A truer love had never blossomed.
    With a smile of satisfied remembrance, Sebastien stepped from the shop an hour later and smoothedhis hands over the crisp pleats of the trousers and lightweight linen shirt he now wore, cuffs rolled back in deference to the building humidity. Not bad, he thought, for off the rack. He'd requested the remainder of his custom purchases, along with the clothes he was forever wearing when summoned forth, to be delivered to one Jamie Sullivan on Rue Royale. He smiled in anticipation of seeing his new mistress once again. He doubted she'd appreciate the delivery. Or the bill. Precisely why he'd done it.
    She was unlike any woman of his acquaintance. Something about her defensive posturing spoke to his mischievous side. And he was certainly never one to thwart his own impulses.
    She was going to be a different sort altogether than Edgar. A shame, in a way. She was also far from his type, which was probably just as well. But she'd already provided him with a challenge. And he loved challenges. Thrived on them. He rubbed his palms together, a plan forming in his mind, then the pleasant tug of hunger in his belly took over his thoughts.
    He found an antiques shop and made a terrible deal on one of the few old coins he had in his pocket when summoned, but he wasn't in the mood to haggle. He was in the mood to eat. He strolled toward the riverfront, pleased to see that the Café du Monde was still doing a brisk business. He ordered a strong cup of chicory-laced coffee and a bag of sugar-dusted beignets, then settled down with a copy of every newspaper sold on the corner. It was time to catch up on the world. He anticipated being shocked by certain advances after such a time lapse. But he also knew from experience that while the world continued its rapid growth and development, people, for the most part, stayed the same.
    His packages would arrive at Happily Ever After in three or four days. He'd be as prepared as he could beby then. He'd make a swift trip to Barataria, praying everything was still where he'd last left it, then take care of financing this particular adventure. The remainder of his time would be spent doing research. True love didn't always come easily.
    Ah, the thrill of the hunt. It never abated.

    The packages were delivered at noon