The dude looked as if he stepped out of GQ.
He took one step forward, his pale gaze swinging up and down the sidewalk, not stopping on us. But it stopped on a woman who was standing with a man—her boyfriend or husband I guessed based on the way her arm was wrapped around his waist. I held my breath as a scented breeze rolled down the street, way too . . . appealing for a natural aroma. It smelled like an island would smell—fruity, heavy, and sensual. The breeze was warm, teasing the senses. I'd never smelled anything like it before. I started to squirm but stopped when I realized how close Ren and I were.
The breeze picked up the woman's blonde waves, tossing them lightly. She tensed, and my breath caught as she looked over her shoulder.
I started to step forward the moment the woman's gaze landed on the ancient, but Ren held me back. "Don't," he murmured.
It went against every part of my being. I wanted to intervene, needed to, as the woman stepped away from the man she'd been with and approached the ancient as if she was walking in a daze. Sickness rolled through me as the ancient fae smiled.
I gripped his forearm. "We have to do something, Ren."
The woman was almost at the ancient's side when Ren shifted, moving in front of me and blocking what was happening. I started to step to the side, but he caught my chin, forcing my gaze to his. "I know how hard it is to stand here and let that happen, but there is nothing we can do right now. You think he would hesitate to put you down right here on the street in front of these people? He wouldn't."
"But—"
"He'll glamour everyone into thinking someone else killed you. I've seen it happen, Ivy. I've lost many of those I considered friends because they thought they could treat an ancient as a normal fae. I cannot stress enough how dangerous they are, and I don't mean this as an insult, but you are not ready to fight one of them."
Closing my eyes, I willed the anger and frustration firing up inside me to slow its roll. Ren was right. I knew that, but that didn't make it any easier. I spoke once I was sure I wasn't going to drop a bunch of F-bombs. "How did you know he would be here?"
He dropped his hand from my chin. "I've been in town for about a week, and before that suspicious look on your face grows into a lets-stab-Ren look, I checked in with David the moment my ass—my fine ass, I might add—stepped foot in the city. I spent every night hunting and found that bastard last night."
"Then you don't need someone showing you around town," I pointed out, not even bothering to hide the accusation in my tone.
"David doesn't know that, and he doesn't need to. As far as he knows, I've been hanging out. He can't know why I'm really here, Ivy."
My spine straightened as I met his hardened gaze. "Why? Why does it have to be so secretive?"
A muscle thrummed along his jaw. "Why does the Order remain a secret?"
The answer was easy. The general public would not believe us. People had to see things to truly believe in them, but that wasn't the same with us. We knew fae existed. We knew that ancients had walked this realm at one time. If enough members came forward, everyone would believe.
"Anyway," Ren continued. "Did some research on the bastard. He's registered in this hotel as a Marlon St. Cyers. Living in one of those semi-permanent suites while his new home is being built."
I frowned. "Wait. That name—he's some kind of huge developer in the city, I think."
Ren nodded. "Yeah, he is."
"Holy shit," I whispered. The fae masqueraded as humans all the time, but never one in such a public position. The fae aged much more slowly than mortals did. To us, they would appear immortal. Marlon looked like he was in his mid-thirties, but he had to be several hundred, if not more, years old. They could glamour people into thinking whatever they wanted, but with the Internet and everyone having a camera phone, and the ability to post anything to any website, technology wasn't like it was even twenty years ago. Someone would find pictures of people who didn't age. Fae existing in the public eye was risky for them.
Ren dipped his head again, and before I could process what he was doing, he swooped in and pressed his lips to my cheek.
I jerked back and stared up at him. "What in the hell?"
A wicked grin appeared. "You looked like you could use one."
My cheek tingled from where his lips made brief contact. "I looked like I could use a kiss on the cheek?"
"Yeah," he replied. "Everyone could use a kiss on the cheek once in a while. Plus, the expression you make when you're confused is fucking adorable."
I started to reach up to touch my cheek but stopped myself before I ended up looking like a complete idiot. "You are bizarre."
"I think you kind of like my bizarreness."
I shifted my weight. "I don't know you well enough to like anything about you."
"Now you know that's not true. You know I'm from Colorado. I use a lot of sugar in my coffee. I steal bacon." He dropped his voice. "And you know I hand out cheek kisses to those in need of them."
"I . . ." What the heck did I say to that?
Ren stepped to the side, and my gaze landed on the man the woman had been with. Angry shouts erupted as he pushed the valet, trying to get inside the hotel.
The devilish smile slipped off of Ren's face as he glanced from the altercation to the entrance of the hotel. His hands curled into fists as his jaw locked down. As I studied him, I thought of Merle again. If anyone knew where the gates were, it would be her.
Chapter Seven
Ren and I made plans to meet up after the meeting on Friday. I didn't tell him that I thought I might know someone who'd have info on the gateway. I wasn't about throwing names out there, and he hadn't pushed it. Instead, he insisted on seeing me home, which was ridiculous considering I roamed the streets at all hours of the night due to my schedule, and he hadn't done so the night before.
Unless he had followed me home Thursday night and lied about checking my file just for the contact info, but if he hadn't done that, making sure I didn't get abducted on the way home or something was kind of sweet. Barely. However, the whole scaling the wall outside and letting himself into my apartment uninvited totally canceled out the sweetness.
Tink was passed out on the throw pillow when I locked the door behind me a little before three in the morning. His war paint was faded on his face and smeared across the fabric. I couldn't even begin to know how to get that out without it staining. Could you wash pillows? Ugh, Tink was going to owe me for this.
He must've been exhausted, because when I scooped him up and carried him into his bedroom, he remained asleep. I placed him on the small dog pillow he'd fashioned into a mammoth-sized bed.
Most of the time I avoided going into his bedroom, and as I backed out of it, I quickly realized that had been a good idea. He had an army of troll dolls lining the built-in bookcases that covered the length of the wall opposite his bed.
"Ahhh," I murmured as at least three hundred glassy black eyes seemed to be sizing me up. "So creepy."
I closed the door behind me and grabbed a Capri Sun pouch out of the fridge. Then I checked the French doors that led to the balcony off the living room. Pulling back the soft blue curtains, I found that the door was locked. Had to be Ren, because I doubted Tink would lock them.