“I’m going to steal your e-reader. I want to read about the two-dick dragonman.”
“I’m sitting on it. Touch my ass and I’ll break your hand,” I say, failing to contain a laugh as he rhythmically prods my arm.
“I won’t. I’ll push you over and grab it, then cackle maniacally as I run to my room in triumph.”
“Just download the app like a normal person and read it on your phone, weirdo.”
“Rock-paper-scissors for it.”
“No way.”
“Come on, Blackbird. I need some dragonman DP.”
He’s giving me another poke on my bicep and I’m giggling when a foreign sound enters our domain. It suddenly feels like we were in a bubble that’s just burst. It’s not normal for me, and the appearance of Francis by the front desk is a shock to my system. I’m usually so aware of my surroundings. But Rowan had me locked in another realm, as though nothing else existed but us. And for some reason, that felt like a relief, a break from the constant pressure of searching for danger lurking in shadow.
“Hey, man. I hope we weren’t keeping anyone up,” Rowan says. He doesn’t even try to hide the bottle of wine he balances on his knee, his other hand wrapped around the armrest of my chair.
Francis’s eyes dart from the wine to Rowan, his lips pressed together in a tight smile. “No, not at all. You’re the only guests here. I was just coming to collect Winston Church for the night,” he replies as he nods toward the cat still curled on the chair by the fireplace. Francis slips his hand down his pink tie and his eyes bounce between us. “We don’t get too much traffic through here, not with some of the newer places popping up in the area. Everyone has an AirBnB now, trying to make an extra buck.”
I gesture toward the lobby. “I like it here. It’s got charm. Winston looks like he might scratch my face off if I get too close, though.”
“Nah, he’s harmless.” Francis runs a hand through his swoop of dark hair and walks over to the cat who gives him a dirty look and a hiss before he shifts his yellow feline eyes to me. I’m not sure if he wants salvation from Francis or he just wants to continue glaring at me, but his grumbles are lost as Francis heaves his gray body into his arms. “You folks visiting someone in the area? Or just passing through?”
“It’s our annual hiking trip,” I volunteer. “We pick a new place each year, usually someplace a bit ‘off the beaten path,’ so to speak.”
Francis nods, stroking the cat’s head. “There are some great local trails. Elk River is a good place to start. The Bridges is a scenic loop. Just be careful if you head toward Davis Creek. It’s easy to get lost. A hiker went missing that way last year and was never found. Wouldn’t be the first time, either.”
“Thanks, man. We’ll make sure to be careful,” Rowan says in a tone that politely says ‘please fuck off now.’ Francis gets the hint and gives us each a nod.
“Have a great night, folks. Feel free to call if you need anything,” he says, then waves Winston’s paw at us before he departs.
Our words of thanks follow him as he disappears down a corridor at the right of the lobby. The sound of a distant door closing reaches us a moment later.
“He looks like he should be trying to pick up girls with a dumbass avatar that looks literally nothing like him as he streams on Twitch or something, not running a hotel in nowhere, West Virginia,” Rowan grumbles. He keeps his glare pinned to the hallway as he tugs the armrest of my chair in an attempt to draw it closer.
“What is your problem?” I ask through a laugh as he lurches me closer. “Are you jealous of his pink tie or something?”
Rowan scoffs and shifts that hard stare to me while tugging my chair again. “No. Christ. Now give me that dragon dick, Blackbird.”
“No way.” I manage to slip out of my chair with the e-reader before he can grab me, waving it toward him in a taunt as I back away toward our rooms. “Goodnight, weirdo. I’m going to bed. Early bird gets the worm, you know. Might plan myself a solo hiking trip to Davis Creek. No boys allowed unless they have scales and a breeding kink.”
“Of all the times to forget my dinosaur onesie at home.” Rowan sighs, then tilts his bottle toward me before settling back in his chair. His smile is warm, his eyes bright despite the late hour. “See you tomorrow, Blackbird.”
With a final wave, I turn and head to my room.
I’m laying in bed, staring at the ceiling when my phone buzzes with a text message.
Nighty night. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.
I’m pretty sure there are bedbugs.
I grin in the dark. And then I fall asleep.
OceanofPDF.com
6
OceanofPDF.com
SUSANNAH
OceanofPDF.com
ROWAN
On the downside, I still haven’t figured out who the hell we’re after.
On the upside, neither has Sloane.
Double plus: she hates it when I point that out.
I knock on Sloane’s door and shove my hands into my pockets, trying to look nonchalant despite the whirling storm of excitement that lights up my chest. When she opens it, her face immediately falls into a dark scowl.
“Expecting someone else?” I ask with a smirk.
“No,” she snorts, as though that’s the most ridiculous idea ever that some other fella might be wanting to come over at nine o’clock on a Thursday night. I guess the pickings are a little slim in the village of Ivydale. “I just know you’re here to gloat.”
I let out a theatrical gasp. “I would never.” My grin spreads and Sloane’s gaze drops to my lips. She likes to pretend she doesn’t really want to get to know me, but every time her eyes fuse to my scar, a little crease flickers between her brows. “If you let me in, I’ll tell you how I got that scar you can’t help but stare at.”
The look she gives me is one of pure horror. Blush crawls up her neck and brightens her cheeks. “I was not…I didn’t…” She huffs and raises her chin. “You’re the worst.”
All that fury combined with all that shyness, all her lethal ability wrapped in an easily-flustered package. She’s so fucking adorable. It takes everything in me not to laugh, and she can tell.
Sloane leans over the threshold, her fingers gripped to the edge of the door as she tries to keep me from seeing inside her room. Her furious gaze scours my face. “I’m a serial killer you know,” she hisses. “I could break into your room while you sleep and suck your eyeballs right out of your head with the industrial vacuum that Francis uses to clean the cat hair from the hideous lobby carpet.”
“I’m sure you could, Blackbird. No doubt.” My grin spreads and I raise my hands in a truce, though Sloane doesn’t seem convinced. “So, you gonna invite me in or what?”
“No, actually.” Sloane whips the key card from the holder next to the door and stuffs it in the back pocket of her jeans as she pushes past me. The door closes behind her with a loud click. “I’ve gotta be somewhere.”
My feet seem glued to the floor as I watch Sloane stride down the hallway, tossing the strap of her bag across her body as she goes.
“Gotta be… what?” I jog after her and match her stride, examining her profile as she marches down the hallway with a shit-eating smirk. “‘Be somewhere?’ Where?”
“Somewhere, Rowan. Or did you forget this is a competition?” she asks. She tries to hide that growing grin but she can’t.
My heart slams my chest wall as I realize she’s a little more done up than usual. A white cashmere sweater. Her makeup is the same as she’s worn it the last three days since we arrived, with winged eyeliner and black mascara and matte red lipstick, but she’s changed out her multiple earrings to a different set of gold pieces, some with stones that shine beneath her dark locks.
