He kissed her with enough heat to melt their clothes.
She bit his ear and raked her nails through his hair.
Cathbad snapped his fingers and her gown burst into tiny pieces that disintegrated. "This is how I remember my Maeve." His hands were pure majik when he reached for her breasts and brushed her nipples.
"Are you going to leave me naked all by myself," she teased, and his clothes disappeared just as quickly, leaving him in all his glory. The gods would envy his body.
She dropped her gaze. Oh, yes, this man was gloriously naked and ready to take her. He liked sex rough and rowdy. She would give him everything he could imagine and then a few of her own ideas. When she finished with him, he'd be too weak to leave her bed. Maybe hours of invigorating sex games would put an end to the annoying man he'd turned into recently.
Cathbad slowed his kisses to ask, "I heard you call for Ossian. Where is he?"
If Cathbad didn't know, she wasn't going to admit she'd expected Ossian to deliver Veronika long before now. The druid would go ballistic if anything happened to his precious polymorph. She trusted Ossian to do her bidding and would allow him the time he needed.
She nipped Cathbad's lip. "I was actually looking for you." Reaching down, she closed her hand around her favorite part of Cathbad and he groaned with pleasure.
That was nothing compared to what she would do to him in order to keep his mind off the polymorph until she could determine whether Ossian had been successful.
She'd learned a long time ago how to lead men to do her bidding and this druid was no different.
He asked, "Ya still have not told me where Ossian is, love."
"Off doing a task for me. He should be along soon."
Cathbad gripped her wrist, pulling it away from pleasuring him. He released her and backed up, clothing himself as he moved away.
The momentary heat turned into a chill at the abrupt change in the druid.
His eyes burned hot, but not with desire.
Cathbad was just as angry as when he'd entered.
She'd seen the face he showed now, long ago when someone had crossed him and killed his mistress. He'd gone insane for a bit and nothing Maeve had said would calm him down.
He announced in an icy tone, "I should be able to reach Ossian at any time, but he has yet to respond. I will find him. I hope for your benefit that he is on a task I've assigned and you have not put him at risk. I've told you more than once that I put a lot of myself into turnin' him into a polymorph. I consider him far more valuable than your entire army of witches and warlocks, includin' your Scath Force warriors."
Saying anything right now would ignite the rage simmering behind his eyes.
Lifting a hand and waving it across the front of her, Maeve clothed herself, holding his gaze the entire time. "You have become dull, Cathbad. Find your servant and while you're at it look for your humility. It would serve you better than this pugnacious attitude when you return."
"You assume I will return," he retorted.
Her lips parted in true shock at his statement.
Cathbad was not one to bluff, but ... he had no castle or realm. In the next instant, he was gone.
"He'll be back," she muttered to the empty room. "He needs me and TAmr Medb."
Chapter 22
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Reese had her back to Quinn as she took in the opulent room. From the black, king-size bedframe with delicate settings of trees and animals carved and gilded into the finish, to the lavish gold faucets in the bathroom and the collection of exotic body oils next to the bed, it treaded that fine line between gorgeous and gaudy.
This room belonged in a palace.
Or a Manhattan prostitute's suite.
Running her fingertips over the smooth, silk comforter, she muttered, "So how does this work?"
"What exactly are you referencing, Reese? The bed or meeting the Keith?"
She turned to find Quinn still standing just inside the now-closed door where she'd left him when they'd entered the room. "You know what I'm talking about, Mr. Comedian."
"We literally have to wait to hear from him. If we show any sign of being impatient, he'll delay the meeting."
Her gaze landed on the Louis Vuitton carry-on bag Quinn had ordered someone to purchase and fill with clothes that would supposedly fit her, plus toiletries and shoes. He'd explained all of this on the way to the hotel after having made another one of his brief, quiet calls.
She couldn't imagine that level of financial power. More than that, she had this deep feeling that Quinn had not always lived this way. Something about the way he was just as at home in the middle of a battle as in a luxury hotel said there were layers she had yet to peel back.
She'd like to know if he had, indeed, come from more humble beginnings, but he had yet to share much about his early years.
Or himself at all, really.
Next to her designer luggage sat a black duffel bag with no obvious brand ID on it. The bag had also been packed with whatever he required for clothes and incidentals.
What made him think she needed the snazzy suitcase?
She'd lived her whole life in the world of the extraordinary, but being with Quinn forced her to reassess the meaning of peculiar.
She didn't care what she had to use for a travel bag or even what she had to wear as long as the Keith obtained the information they needed on Phoedra. Quickly.
The sooner they left this place, the better she'd like it, but it was nice not to be on the constant lookout for demons here.
Falling backward on the bed, she grumbled, "Why can't we go out and look for the kidnapper's van while we wait on the Keith? Don't you have human intelligence contacts?"
Quinn walked across the room, looking out the window. "I do, but we already know that the kidnappers are not human, so that substantially limits human investigation. As for the nonhumans, I'm trying to keep Phoedra's existence hidden for as long as possible. Even more troublesome, if one of the kidnappers is related to the Keith, which I think he is, humans will not be able to track him here at all."
She pushed herself up on her elbows. "Why would you think any of those guys would be related to the Keith?"
He turned and leaned back with his arms crossed. "Because only a family member would be so bold as to enter New Orleans through a bolthole. The Keith would have security watching the city for anything odd and entering via bolthole would stand out."
She hadn't considered that, but then she hadn't even known the Inchkeith wizard existed. This situation gave her a whole new appreciation for Quinn as an ally. She asked, "Have you negotiated a lot of weird stuff like this?"
Nodding, he said, "It was part of my job description prior to becoming the Maistir. I have a team which oversees Belador investments, another of my responsibilities, but one I've always enjoyed since it helps our warriors everywhere. When something significant required expertise at negotiation, I have been the go-to person the majority of the time."
How had he gone from business guru and negotiator to Belador Maistir? That seemed like a position for a warrior. Not that Quinn wasn't an absolute tough guy all the way, but he was a refined tough guy.
He wore jeans and a pullover with sizzle, but she bet he'd rock a pair of snug jeans with no shirt and swinging a sword.
She closed her eyes. That might be her new favorite Quinn fantasy.
It needed to remain a fantasy only.
When she opened her eyes again, the lights were softer in the room. When had that happened?
Quinn walked to her side of the bed and reached for the hem of his pullover.
Wait. A. Minute. How had this happened?
He lifted it over his head.
Cut abs and a dust of golden hair stole the saliva from her mouth.
She immediately forgot keeping him only as a fantasy.
Why had she made that stupid rule anyway? She stood up and started unbuttoning her blouse. When the shirt fell open, leaving her lacy bra exposed, she couldn
't move, captured by the dark look in his eyes.
He stepped toward her, unzipping his pants slowly.
Her breath was coming in choppy gasps. Her nipples hurt from wanting him to touch them. She reached up to relieve them herself.
The world faded away until there was nothing left but her and Quinn in this moment.
She licked her lips. "I want you to ... "
"What, sweetheart?" Heat smoked through his eyes. There had to be a fire somewhere.
"Want you to touch me."
He paused, his face shifting through emotions rapid-fire. "I ... "
"Please, Quinn. I haven't been touched in forever."
He emitted a groan and lifted his hands, unclasping her bra and capturing a full breast in each hand. "You're so beautiful."
She wanted to believe him.
His fingers moved and she grabbed his biceps to hold herself up. "Yes. That. More."
He lowered his head and kissed her. She knew this mouth, missed it and him.
Blue and silver colors swirled around the room. She wanted to float along with them. His hands were moving down her body. "Yes, keep going."
"Reese."
Why did he sound so far away?
She slid her hand inside his pants and ...
"Reese!"
The world sucked back into focus.
Quinn now stood over by the door.
He still had all his clothes on.
Grimacing, he seemed apologetic. "This is the Keith's world and I was told that, uh, some guests might feel the hotel's influence. I should have warned you, but to be honest I wasn't entirely sure in what way the influence worked."
His eyes dropped to her chest.
She looked down to find her shirt open. Oh, crap. At least her lacy bra was still in place, but she had her fingers holding her breasts with her thumbs in the perfect position for brushing her nipples.
She yanked her hands away then jammed her shirt together and tried to button it with trembling fingers. How was she going to face him after she'd had an out-of-body sexual experience with him in a starring role?
"Don't."
She looked up to find him standing in front of her. "Don't what?"
"Don't feel embarrassed."
Sending him a death glare, she said, "I'm not. I'm an exhibitionist at heart."
He called her on the lie with the look in his eyes, but when he didn't press her further she dropped it. Once she had herself pulled back together, she had a little talk with her inner wild woman.
This trip was about finding Phoedra, and the hotel must have some serious mojo to have distracted her from that goal.
This little jaunt was not about having a fling with Quinn.
Besides, Quinn still had feelings for Kizira, which was understandable since she was the mother of his child.
Hands off. Period.
"What's wrong, Reese?"
Plastering a fake smile on her face, she said, "Nothing besides being stuck in this dump with nada to do."
His lips curled up at her dissing a room most saw only in magazines for the rich and crazy. He said, "We can do nothing until the Keith sends for me. There's no telling when that will be or how long we'll be on our feet once he does call for us. In the meantime, you might want to get some rest."
Did that mean he thought she was getting cranky?
Or more like crazy after that strip act. Ugh.
Probably. In truth, she was drained from being up for a long night taking photos and coming home just in time to follow Phoedra, then fighting preternaturals in San Diego, teleporting to Tulsa for another round and ending up here.
But ... she cut her eyes around to the ginormous bed. If it only slept half as good as it looked, that would be awesome.
Now that she had shown him hers, she couldn't be coy. It wasn't her style. The sooner she got past the humiliation of a moment ago, the easier it would be to work with him.
She had one more concern. "Will this place influence me when I'm asleep?"
"I was told that it does so only during waking hours."
"Joy for joy. Okay, what's our sleeping arrangement, Quinn? Just to be clear, I'm not sleeping on the floor and I'll be disappointed if you pull some kind of noble crap about sleeping on the floor. That bed's big enough for both of us as long as you keep to your side."
He chuckled under his breath. "I shall control myself so we can both rest while we have a chance."
Maybe he should be worried about her controlling herself.
Shoot. After what she'd just done, maybe he was. Heh.
She kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the massive bed, which swallowed her.
This had to be what sleeping on a cloud felt like.
Quinn stretched out next to her and he seemed pretty relaxed, which lightened her heart. She'd have been disappointed if he'd acted uncomfortable to be on a bed with her after that slutty display.
She couldn't recall the last time she'd lain in a bed and looked at a man.
He turned to her, bending his elbow to prop his head. "Why did you leave without a word in Atlanta?"
"I had a commitment to someone and a deadline," she lied, but that was simpler than explaining Yaahl.
"Is that someone the mysterious person who controls your powers?"
She reached for the medallion, checking to be sure it was still with her. "Yes."
"I worried about what had happened to you."
Stop being so wonderful, Quinn, her mind cried out. "Thanks, but I can take care of myself."
"I know you can, but ..."
Curiosity just had to make her ask, "But what?"
"But I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you." He leaned over and kissed her.
His lips felt incredible and could this man kiss. He'd caught her so off guard that she had no time to prepare a defense and caved immediately. She cupped his neck and held him close, kissing him back.
When he stopped and pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, she asked, "Was that the room's influence?"
"No."
"Why'd you do that?"
"I didn't want you to think you were alone in your thoughts."
Was he saying he had fantasies about her?
He kissed her again. "Sleep now."
Oh, sure. No problem. All she had to do was to stop thinking about him, that kiss and a bed in the same sentence.
Quinn lowered his head to the pillow and turned onto his back, then dropped his arm over his eyes.
Sleep would be a trick to pull off.
Closing her eyes, she went to her fallback for getting to sleep, where she pretended to live like any other woman her age. She had Gibbons and a nice house in the country ... apple pies. Kids were playing in the yard ... no, not kids. More dogs and maybe a cat. Her mind wandered until she was out.
Why is it so hot in this place?
She blinked awake sometime later, feeling suffocated by the warm air. Reese preferred sleeping with the air cold enough to hang meat. She might as well get up and find the stupid temperature control.
She opened her eyes to darkness.
It wasn't daylight yet? She felt like she'd slept for hours.
She distinctly remembered the light on the corner table being on when she'd climbed into bed, and the first hint of daylight coming through the blinds on the windows.
Had Quinn turned off the lamp?
How long had they slept?
Rolling to her right, she dropped her feet down to the cold, stone floor.
That couldn't be right. This room had thick carpet.
With a shake of her head to clear away the fog from going under so deeply, she padded in the general direction of where she recalled the table with the lamp. Holding her hands out in front of her for protection, she touched a surface. Then she felt around until she recognized the shape of a candle. With a little more effort, she located a box of matches.
Had the power gone out?
Could that even happen in a wizard's hotel?
After two tries, she lit the candle, which really illuminated the room and ... the slate floor. Something was off. She would have remembered that detail.
Taking a slow turn, she tried to bring to mind what she'd seen before going to sleep.
Not a thing in this room looked familiar, from the stone walls and slate floor to the two high-back chairs constructed of heavy dark wood and upholstered in lush red velvet trimmed in gold. The bed frame now appeared rough-hewn from the same dark wood as the chairs and was decorated with erotic scenes of men and women carved into the headboard.
A dark-red, satin bed cover trimmed in gold draped across the super-thick mattress.
She searched the room for her things, but the chic rolling suitcase and Quinn's duffel were nowhere in sight.
Neither was he.
Don't panic. He'd said this place was strange.
Her gaze wandered to the wall where the window had looked out on the French Quarter in New Orleans. When she'd first entered the room, it had been a tall, multi-paned window, framed with long curtains on a wall covered in textured wallpaper.
Not anymore.
The space now had a small arched window that had been cut a foot deep into thick stone. Walking over there, she pulled open the beveled-glass pane that swung to the inside on a crude hinge.
The moon gazed down, lighting the blackest night.
Instead of buildings defining the modern day tourist area of New Orleans during early morning, the scene below was of men in medieval clothing, which appeared to be soldiers carrying torches at night as they walked along the top of a monstrous wall.
Uh, nope. Not men exactly.
The bodies were human shaped, but their heads looked like gargoyles with horns sticking out the tops of their skulls. Below her, more soldiers marched in procession on the hard ground, each armed with a sword and shield.
Now. Now, it was time to panic.
She put a hand over her racing heart, a weak effort to keep the terrified organ in her chest.
Reese closed the window and swung around with her back against the cold stone.
What had they done with Quinn?
If he'd only gone to a meeting with the Keith, he would have left her a note.
Quinn's words rambled in her head ... first the Keith has to determine if I'm worthy of his aid. What if the Keith called Quinn to visit him and decided he was unworthy?
Preternaturals had to be the most screwed up people on this planet. She'd fought demons over the years.
Demons made sense most of the time.
They attacked with the intention of bleeding her power dry then watching her die slowly. Simple. No confusion. They just hunted their prey and took the power.