She felt his Power flex in a kind of release, and the shimmering cloak fell away. They strode toward the hotel’s front desk.
Gradually all the noise in the lobby died away. As far as everyone else was concerned, they had apparently appeared out of nowhere. Carling knew what they must look like, half dressed and disheveled, like shipwreck survivors. Rune was still shirtless, and her feet were bare. Sooner or later someone would recognize one or the other of them. Eventually somebody would call the paparazzi and all possibility of discretion would go to hell. After this kind of entrance, and especially after stopping at home, she really needed to make a point of calling Julian sooner rather than later.
None of it meant a thing to her. She certainly didn’t care what she looked like, and it was clear Rune didn’t either. She glanced sideways and down at his long legs keeping pace with hers. What struck her most was how she and Rune moved together, hip-to-hip in a smooth, ground-eating stride. They must look like they were a couple. She ignored the pang she felt at that. Feelings were so often an inconvenience to the rest of one’s life.
She focused on the front desk. A man in a charcoal gray suit rushed over to join a uniformed employee standing at attention in front of a computer. As they approached, the man stared, his face filled with wonder.
“Good morning, I’m Harry Rowling, one of the assistant managers,” he said in a hushed whisper. “Councillor Severan, what an unexpected honor.”
She nodded a greeting and watched as he turned his attention to Rune. The man went white and started to babble. “Sir, ah—Sentinel Ainissesthai . . . what a pleasure, I mean it’s an honor to have you here as well—”
Well yes, of course the rock star of the Wyr did not have just female fans. She would not let herself sigh, although she indulged in a pointed glance at Rune.
She went still and stared like the hotel manager.
Rune glittered everywhere with a barely restrained tension. His face was a loaded weapon, the bones standing out in stark relief, and his eyes were lambent with a dangerous, unpredictable light. One hand was clenched in a white-knuckled grip on the straps of their bags, the other fist pressed against his thigh. He breathed with such measured evenness, she found herself taking a step back.
Perhaps his control had not come as easily for him as she had thought. She started to smile.
Rune’s voice was soft as he said to the man, “I would like the key to my suite, please.”
“C-certainly, uh, would you like for me to check for any messages?”
“Later.” Rune glanced at Carling, who was staring at him in fascination. Rune turned his attention back to the man and waited a moment. Nothing happened. The man stood frozen like a rabbit in front of a wolf. He raised his eyebrows. “The key?”
Rowling started. “Of course! Sorry! Yes, the key!” He whirled to the uniformed employee and hissed between his teeth, “Get the key!”
They scrambled and fumbled, and within moments the key was offered to him. He held the hand that had caressed Carling’ s—Carling’ s—most private place clenched against his side, the fingers curled against his palm, and even then he could still catch the faint lingering scent of her arousal.
He wanted to lick his fingers. He wanted to punch the hotel employees for standing too close. It was a good thing they were just humans with weak human senses, or he might have. He felt like he was going crazy, and he did not dare look at her or the insane beast that bucked so wildly against his control might slip loose.
He took the key gently with his other hand. The assistant manager started to bleat something. Rune said in an iron-hard voice, “That will be all for now.”
Much nodding and more bleating. He pivoted away in the middle of it, grabbed Carling’s hand and stalked to the elevator. She came along, choosing for whatever reason to be acquiescent.
They rode up to the suite in silence, and strode down the hall. His pulse picked up speed as they reached the door. He had too much blood in his body. It roared through his veins, and his skin could barely contain it. He felt like he was speeding down a winding mountain road with his car in overdrive, just barely holding the tires onto the pavement, with his brakes liable to fail at any moment. He swiped the keycard and held the door open for her, still not trusting himself to glance at her.
Then he was stepping in, and throwing the security bolt, and setting aside their two bags. He ran a shaking hand through his tangled hair, and only then did he dare to look at Carling’s face.
She was already watching him. Her long, dark, gorgeous eyes held an emotion he hadn’t seen in them before. It had something to do with shadows and gentleness, and an odd, quizzical understanding.