3. CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

CHENTE

It's lunchtime, but for once, I'm not hungry. Food is the last thing on my mind as I stalk the streets of Sherbrooke.

Even though it's spring, there's a marked chill in the air, and I miss the consistent heat of my homeland.

Anxiety churns in my gut as I stew over my current problem.

Twenty years ago, I moved to the United States and started doing construction work.

Turns out, I'm excellent at laying foundations, framing houses, doing the electrical work, and just about anything else.

A jack-of-all-trades is what humans call me.

I enjoy working with my hands and creating human abodes, each unique in their own way.

Not too long ago, the owner of Cressie Construction, based outside of Montreal, was visiting the States.

He came across me on a job site and noticed how organized I was.

According to the man, I'm a ‘natural leader', which is why everyone deferred to me.

I politely pointed out this was merely because I'd been working in the field so long, but the guy insisted I was someone special.

And offered me a job as the general manager of his company—his very big and successful company.

Only a fool wouldn't accept.

So I said ‘yes'. It didn't matter that I had to move to Canada.

I already didn't see my family much. They shunned me when I ventured into the human world.

And as general manager of Cressie Construction, I made triple what I did before.

Enough to invest in building my own home on the outskirts of Sherbrooke.

Because once I arrived, I fell in love with the people and city.

Although everyone speaks English for the most part, I'm learning French.

Everything about being here makes me feel alive, except one problem.

My job requires me to read.

It's probably crazy to imagine a grown man not being able to read, but Chupas don't have a written language.

Everything is passed down through oral tradition.

I literally have never learned to read in any language, and the thought that I must now is daunting.

With the land for my house already bought, I can't afford to be kicked out of the country.

Besides, I don't want to let my boss down after he helped me get a work visa as well as a great deal on the property where I plan to build.

If I can't do my job properly, I'll be fired. Then, I'll be deported back to Mexico.

The only solution—learn how to read and fast.

How hard can it be?

My spoken English is fine, even if it's heavily accented.

I learned it within a matter of weeks, and that seems considerably more difficult than reading.

Surely, I'll be able to master it in only a matter of days.

As a species, Chupas are faster and smarter than humans.

Theoretically, reading should be as easy as breathing.

Which is why instead of eating, I'm heading to the library.

What better place to learn the written word than in the place where books are kept.

As the building I'm searching for comes into view, hope courses through me.

I can do this.

A cute little chime announces my entrance into the library, but the place looks empty.

Looking around at the lobby, I spy a bulletin board with a myriad of flyers.

I squint at the words printed on the paper, willing them to make sense.

Instead, all I see are a jumble of squiggles that look like poorly drawn illustrations.

Letters , I believe they're called.

I'm still staring in front of me when I hear the squeaking sounds of tires over linoleum.

Spinning around, I confront the tiny human woman coming my way.

Her hair is piled atop her head in a haphazard manner, with pink wisps tickling the sides of her face.

And oh, what a face.

The woman's flushed cheeks and full lips are the same shade as her hair.

Then there are the glasses perched adorably on top of her pert nose.

Behind them, large hazel eyes blink at me, the long dark lashes pressing against the lens.

Something tightens inside of me, and I know it's not just lust.

It's a strange sensation, but I can't put my claw on it.

The human woman continues to approach me, deftly maneuvering the wheelchair which she uses.

Black gloves cover the palms of her hands but leave her pale, long fingers exposed.

How can someone be so utterly enchanting without saying a thing?

"Forgive me. I did not mean to stare. It's just…you're so beautiful."

I blurt out the words before I even knew I was thinking them and watch the shock roll over her face.

Then the woman tips back her head and laughs, the sound making my stomach clench.

"Me? Beautiful? Not likely."

She smiles up at me like maybe there's something wrong with my eyesight.

"You are arguing with my opinion?"

Inwardly, I cringe. I'm not used to speaking to pretty girls.

Construction sites tend to be dominated by men who curse with every other word.

"Um, no, it's just that most people don't consider me ‘beautiful'."

I swallow my scowl.

What fool wouldn't consider this woman drop dead gorgeous?

"Have they told you this?"

"Well, no, but…I'm sorry, is there something you were looking for? I'm the head librarian here."

"The most beautiful head librarian. What's your name?"

"Odette, Odette Bouchard."

Odette.

Her name rolls off my tongue with more ease than it should—like I was born knowing it.

She fidgets, her big hazel eyes growing wider the longer I savor her name.

Stop being a weirdo.

"I'm Chente Tecuani," I finally manage.

Humans are often overwhelmed by my presence, but I'm probably not helping by being so intense.

Odette lifts a pale hand to shake mine, and I eagerly accept the human custom of welcome.

Her skin is silky soft compared to my scales, and I marvel at how tiny her fingers are next to mine.

Apparently, she must be thinking the same thing as she pulls my hand closer to her glasses.

She twists my palm back and forth, my scales catching the light from the lobby window.

Her touch is light but ignites something fiery and desperate inside of me.

Just when I think I'm about to pop out of my skin, Odette drops my hand in a rush.

"I'm so sorry! I swear I don't normally grope strangers."

Is it wrong to beg her to continue?

I clear my throat, trying to speak over the tightness growing there.

"This is good to know. I'm sure you don't see many Chupacabras here in Canada."

"No, you're the first Chupacabra I've met."

Figures.

My kind doesn't mingle with outsiders, especially humans.

Odette seems genuinely interested in Chupas, and I answer her questions, teasing her only once.

She doesn't seem to realize that I'm only kidding about my kind eating humans, and I can't help but laugh at her expression.

Until I remember that I'm in a library.

Good going, Chente.

I apologize, grateful that Chupas don't blush like humans do, but Odette is quick to reassure me that she's the only one here.

Now I don't bother to hide my frown, demanding to know why such a tiny creature is left alone.

The pretty little librarian explains that she's safe, and I barely stop myself from scoffing.

In this moment, I decide that I'll be Odette's protector—I will keep her safe.

I smile, content in the knowledge that nothing will happen to this human when Odette's lips tip downward.

Even frowning, she's enchanting, but she's wondering why I should care about her safety since we just met.

In a panic, I thrust out my hand, reintroducing myself, hoping she thinks I don't understand human customs.

Better than her learning I'm about to become her shadow.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Odette murmurs politely, her voice sweeter than the honey I found in hives as a boy.

"The pleasure is all mine."

My tone is far too intimate for two people who just met, but I can't seem to help myself.

There's something about Odette that calls to the very fabric of my soul.

Unfortunately, by the furrow of her brow, I can't say she feels the same.

In fact, she appears puzzled by my sad attempt to be suave, but maybe I'm doing it wrong.

If it wouldn't be so embarrassing, I would check out a picture book on how to flirt.

I clear my throat and back up a step to give Odette some space.

"I actually do need your assistance, Mistress Librarian. I need a library card, please."

She blushes again, making me squirm as the gorgeous color drifts down between the V of her shirt.

Don't look. Don't look. Don't look.

How this exquisite creature can think she's not beautiful is beyond me.

Odette goes behind her desk and types something into the computer before asking me for a few things.

All I have to establish residency and proof of identity is my work visa, but Odette just hums and says she can still help.

She moves around with ease, and I wonder how long she's worked here.

Alone.

The thought makes me shift uncomfortably. Chupas and humans aren't meant to be solitary beings, even though some of us drift in that direction.

Introverted is what humans call individuals like Odette and me.

But even introverts need friends—and protectors.

My phone pings, and I groan under my breath. My lunch break is over, and I need to get back to work.

At this rate, I'll have to run to make it on time, but Chupas are fast.

"I'm sorry to do this, but I have to get back to work. What time does the library close?"

Odette turns. "Oh, um, five."

"Perfect. I'll be back then. It's a date."

Her lips form an O of shock at my choice and words, and I dash out before I can make a bigger fool of myself.

I really need to learn how to read so I can get a book on how to talk to women.