“I do not have any children,” Mrs. P said with blithe indifference. “Thus, no grandchildren, named or otherwise.”
Sophea made a little face at Rowan. “As you can see, she needs someone to help make things go smoothly. Although that really is weird about Jian’s cousin. I can’t even picture him in my mind. He’s just kind of a vague memory.”
“So you don’t know anything about the ring?” The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. Immediately, he damned his lack of sleep for allowing him to be so obvious.
“What ring?” Sophea asked, just as he knew she would.
“It doesn’t matter. Forget I said it.”
“Oh, like that isn’t going to make me wonder all the more. Wait, this wouldn’t happen to be a magic ring that lets its wearer turn invisible, would it? Because if so, we’re back to The Hobbit.”
“I am finished,” Mrs. P announced, pushing away her plate. “If you are going to sit there talking rather than eating, we can leave.”
“Rudeness does not become you,” Sophea told her.
The old woman straightened her bent shoulders and gave a haughty look. “I am priestess of Heka, a vessel of Isis, and a hoochie-coo dancer extraordinaire. I am not rude!”
“Priestess of what, now?” Sophea asked.
With an effort, the old woman got to her feet. “I fear for the success of our journey if you refuse to acknowledge the truth. Your man will accompany me to my room if you desire to eat.”
“I will?” Rowan asked, setting down his fork. The look he received had him on his feet without thinking. He held out his arm for Mrs. P, who took it with a little nod. “I guess I will.”
“I’m done,” Sophea announced, sliding her plate away as she rose. “I’ll go up to the room with you so Rowan can finish his dinner.”
But they were already moving, heading slowly toward the rickety elevator. “Would you mind signing the check for me?” Rowan asked over his shoulder.
Sophea stopped following them, and turned back to the table to scribble on the half-burned check.
“You might take it a little easier on her since it’s apparent she really did have no idea who she is,” Rowan said softly to the old woman.
She allowed him to open the doors to the elevator before entering it. “If I did so, she would never accept the truth. And we will never make it across the Duat if she is not prepared.”
He looked at her, wondering just what it was she was up to. “How did you steal a ring from someone so powerful as Bael?” he asked before he could stop himself.
“Ha!” She gave a short bark of laughter and poked him in the chest with a knobby finger. “That was the easy part. What is to come is the challenge.”
“Did you know this cousin of her late husband who she seems to be unable to remember well?”
“He must have used a glamour,” Mrs. P said thoughtfully. “One intended to make him unremarkable in her memory. That was smart, don’t you think? That would keep her from asking questions.”
“Who are you talking about? You do know the man, then?”
Mrs. P lifted a package of mints from his pocket, popping one in her mouth before tucking the rest away in her purse. “I’ve met her husband, but not any of his kin. The red dragons always kept themselves to themselves.”
Sophea joined them at that point, and Rowan said no more. He wanted badly to think about the things that the thief had told him—as well as consider Sophea, his feelings about her, and the ramifications of her new self-awareness (not to mention how the last item would affect his job)—but his brain seemed to stop altogether, and refuse to do anything more.
“Nightcap?” Sophea offered when he walked them to the door of their room.
“No, thank you.” He gave her a wan smile. “I’m a bit tired and sore.”
“Oh, yeah.” Her gaze wandered around his face, no doubt taking in the cuts and abrasions from the fight with the demonic dragons. “I wanted to ask you about that, but I guess it can wait until tomorrow. We will see you again, won’t we?”
His gaze slipped over her shoulder to where Mrs. P was taking the pillowcase off of a pillow and stuffing it into a side pocket of her suitcase. “You can count on that. You can definitely count on that.”
Five
Rowan’s lips were hot, but mine were hotter.
“Oh, yes,” I moaned when he took one aching nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue in a manner that had me floating off the bed, my body curling around his.
“I want to make love to you, Sophea.”
“That sounds perfectly wonderful.” I breathed the words, my toes curling when his mouth moved lower, to caress my belly.
He looked up at me, his eyes changed. No longer the grayish-green, now they were brown, with bright gold and red flecks, just like a pretty stone.
Thunk.
“Tell me you want me, too,” he said, his voice rubbing against my flesh like the finest velvet.
I pulled him up to where my body floated, rubbing my hand up his thigh to take hold of his penis. It was erect, silken flesh over hot steel. “I’ve never wanted anyone more than you, Rowan.”