Chapter Twelve
The Ritz-Carlton hotel was located on the very edge of the French Quarter, facing Canal Street. Its exterior was a beautiful combination of modern architecture and old-style Southern influence, with white plaster and carved lion gargoyles adorning the building. As we checked in, the staff was polite to the point of obsequiousness, making me want to tell them to relax; I wasn’t that hard to please. Only when I’d stayed at Vlad’s house had my ass been so thoroughly kissed, and the management here didn’t have a reputation for expressing displeasure with their people by impaling them on long wooden poles. At least, not that I knew of.
Once inside the elevator leading up to our floor, however, I understood the reason for the employees’ over-the-top graciousness. If the fur-clad woman next to me had her nose any higher in the air, she’d get altitude sickness—and really, who wore a full-length fur coat in the summertime, anyway? The man with her, her husband, I deduced from their matching rings, also looked like a stick took up permanent residence in his ass. She gave me a cool glance, her gaze traveling over my windblown hair and somewhat unkempt appearance with a disdain that took me right back to my days as a small-town outcast. Hey, for riding straight through from Chicago to New Orleans on a motorcycle, I looked pretty damn good. Nary a bug in my teeth or anything.
A slight sniff accompanied her turning away to whisper, “Clientele here seems to have slipped,” to her husband, loud enough that even without supernatural hearing, I would’ve heard her. My teeth ground together while I reminded myself that mesmerizing her into believing her ass had just grown by five sizes was not a mature thing to do.
The elevator doors opened in the next moment, thankfully on the couple’s floor. As they exited, Bones gave the husband a bland smile.
“She’s rogering the plumber every Thursday while you’re at the club. Did you really think your loo needed repairs four times this past month?”
The woman let out a shocked gasp even as her husband’s face became mottled.
“You told me he was laying pipe, Lucinda!”
Bones grunted. “Right you are, mate.”
The doors closed just as the woman began to sputter out an indignant, yet unconvincing, denial. My jaw still swung open at the whole exchange.
“Bones!” I finally managed.
“Serves the sow right for what she was thinking about you, and he was no better” was his unrepentant reply. “Now they’ll have something else to occupy their time aside from looking down their noses at people.”
Part of me was horrified at what he’d done, while another, less charitable part cackled shamelessly. God, the look on that woman’s face! She’d had “busted” written all over her formerly haughty expression.
“Not like I broke some poor, innocent bloke’s heart, either,” Bones went on. “He’s shagging his barrister. Pair of them deserve each other.”
“This just reinforces my opinion that I don’t want mind-reading powers,” I said, shaking my head. “I never need to pick up on things like that from other people’s heads.”
The elevator doors opened again, our floor this time. Bones’s hand rested lightly on my back as we walked to our room. Once inside, my jaw dropped again. This wasn’t a hotel room; it was the size of a house. I slowly looked around at the gorgeous hardwood floors, Oriental rugs, elegant antique furnishings, a dining room complete with crystal chandelier, ornate family room with gilded fireplace, floor-to-ceiling glass doors that afforded a view of the Mississippi River and the outdoor courtyard—and I hadn’t even gotten to the bedroom yet. The other time we’d come to New Orleans, we’d stayed at Bones’s town house in the Quarter, but we knew that would be the first place anyone looked for us, so checking into a hotel seemed safer.
Though a lot more expensive, judging from all the finery around me.
“Did we win the lottery and you forgot to tell me?”
He flashed me a grin as he tossed his jacket onto a nearby chair. “Know one of the advantages of being mates with a vampire who used to get regular visions of the future? Two words, luv. Investment advice.”
I laughed even as I shrugged out of my own leather coat. “Now I have another reason to hope Mencheres’s visions get back to full strength.”
“Even so.” He sauntered over, brushing my hair back from my face. “We have time to wash up and change, but don’t get too comfortable. We’re going out.”
My brows furrowed. “I thought we weren’t seeing Marie until tomorrow night.”
“We’re not.” Bones brushed the barest of kisses across my lips. “Tonight, we have other plans.”
I looked at the river several stories below me, wondering if this was some sort of joke. The bridge I stood atop of—under construction and therefore empty of commuters—swayed slightly in the breeze, or maybe that was just a result of me clutching the beam next to me too hard.
“Say again?” I called down to Bones. He stood at the bottom of the bridge, having flown there after dropping me off on the overhanging beam with only one word of explanation that I must have misheard.
“Jump,” he repeated. No, I hadn’t misheard him before.
I glanced back at the swirling waters of the Mississippi below. “If this is your way of saying you want a divorce . . .”
“You couldn’t drown if you tried,” he countered in amusement. “You haven’t breathed for necessity in almost a year. Now quit dithering and jump. It’s the best way for you to learn how to fly.”
“Sounds like a really good way for me to learn how to fall while screaming instead.”
He grabbed two of the metal support beams under my section and rattled them. The subsequent vibrations were so strong that I let out a yelp while my grip on the rod next to me increased until it creaked. Damn him. He knew I didn’t like heights.
“Ghouls can’t fly, which gives vampires who can a large advantage over them,” he called up. “I want you able to fly before we meet Marie tomorrow night, just in case we need to make a quick escape. You’ve flown twice before, which means you have the ability. You just need to sharpen it.”
“I didn’t fly, I just jumped very high,” I corrected him, still holding on for dear afterlife. “I don’t even know how I did it.”
“Your instincts kicked in under duress. Falling from this height should make you experience similar duress, allowing those instincts to take over again,” he replied with more calm than was fair. “Come on, Kitten, jump. Or I’ll throw you off.”
“You throw me off this bridge, Bones, and you’ll have a lot of celibacy in your future!”
His lips curled in a way that said he wasn’t worried. “Only means I’d have to work harder to change your mind, and you know how I love my work. Now quit stalling. If you’re still up there in five minutes, I’m tossing you off.”
I slowly uncurled my death grip from the beam. He’d do just what he said, and if I knew Bones, he’d already started the countdown. While common sense said he was right about his reasons for me learning to fly—plus, true, jumping couldn’t kill me even if I belly flopped into the Mississippi—I still cursed him as I edged away from the beam.
“Sneaky, manipulating, merciless bloodsucker . . .”
A chuckle drifted up to me. “Pillow talk already? You’ll have me hard before we’re even back in our room.”
“Well, I hope your hard self enjoys flogging the bishop tonight!” I snapped.
His laughter only increased. “Really, luv, I’m impressed. Wherever did you learn such a salty expression?”
I was a few feet away from the beam I’d held on to, nothing nearby to grasp anymore and only my balance keeping me from tumbling into the dark waters below. Jeez, it really was a long way down.
“From Spade. He was helping Denise brush up on her English slang.”