The Curse (Belador #3)(69)

She just had to get to a computer and access the e-mail with his address … before Storm changed the password.





TWENTY-TWO




Quinn stepped off the elevator onto the floor for his hotel room, debating on going to the suite or not. He didn’t want to deal with Lanna right now, especially when he’d have to explain why he needed to leave again. But neither could he go to the second suite he’d taken without checking to see if Lanna was still safe.

If the gods had any respect for a man’s sanity, Lanna would be asleep.

When Quinn entered the suite he’d sent her to, he found the minibar had been raided of everything except alcohol. Lanna’s suitcase had exploded in the living area, clothes tossed right and left. At the door to the bedroom, he found a note that read, Cousin, please do not wake me before midnight unless important.

Quinn put his hand on the knob, prepared to open the door until he read the last line, And cover eyes if you come in room. I did not pack nightgown and do not want embarrass us both.

He jerked his hand back as though he’d reached for a snake.

There was no way he would go inside there short of the fire alarm going off. Not with his cousin naked.

Crossing the minefield of clothes all over the room, he found a hotel notepad and wrote her a message to call him as soon as she woke up, that he was close by. With a second look at the chaos in the room, he dragged a chair from the dining table into the walkway and put the note on the seat where she couldn’t miss it. Then he retrieved the warded Triquetra from where he’d hidden the triangular stylized throwing blade beneath a small table in the foyer. He slipped the hand-size flat metal piece inside his suit jacket.

On his way to the elevator, he fingered the room key card for the second suite he’d taken on the top floor.

A room where he could confront Kizira without any chance of Lanna being around.

He used the silent ride up to check for any areas in his mind that felt weak before he undertook this gamble. All systems were go, just as when he’d left the mountain retreat with the druids.

Tzader and the Beladors needed him to turn the tables on the Medb, especially on Kizira.

Reaching the new suite, Quinn found everything in place, right down to the suitcase identical to the one in his room where Lanna slept. He’d made all the arrangements on his way back to the hotel. Clothes and personal items had been purchased and packed into the suitcase, then delivered here.

Kizira had to believe this was his only room.

And Lanna couldn’t know Quinn had another suite or the teenage busybody would find a way to stick her nose in where it would get them both killed.

He made quick work of unpacking and placing personal items in appropriate locations, but he didn’t hang his warded Triquetra on the hotel-room doorknob. He doubted Kizira had come through the front door the last time anyway.

Didn’t matter. He intended to be ready for her this time.

Now if he could just toughen his heart.

She’d held a piece of that stubborn organ for years, but had never given him reason to think she’d take advantage of their connection to harm him or the Beladors.

Call him foolish for believing she cared for him.

Call him an idiot for having fallen in love with her thirteen years ago.

He’d had no idea that she was Medb when they’d first met and he’d saved her life, then she’d saved his. They spent two weeks hiding out, running from a threat, or so he’d thought. He’d figured out later that she’d been evading Medb warlocks sent to return a priestess-in-training to Queen Flaevynn of T?μr Medb.

That had been then, before either of them had seen so much Belador and Medb blood flow beneath the bridge of hatred.

Ready to do his job, Quinn headed for the shower, more than ready to wash away battle crud from the last gang attack. When he stepped into the hot steam, he steeled himself for his next move and lowered his mental shields.

He envisioned Kizira inside his mind, in that private area that no one had ever entered until she’d rushed past his mental shields during Conlan’s mind probe. He could have lived with that, but not with what she did later, coming into his room and using her powers to soothe his crushing migraine … to seduce him, and to use his weakness to gain information to harm his friends.

Be fair. It wasn’t as though he’d required much seducing. When it came to Kizira, he rarely went a day without thinking of her and missing what they’d shared.

Quinn? Can you hear me? This is Kizira.

There she was. He soaped his skin, fighting the ripple of unease that raced along his spine at how easily she’d entered his mind.

Answering too quickly would be a mistake.

He’d have to act wary and not answer right away to convince her that she’d surprised him. He shampooed his hair, buying a few moments. Guilt gnawed at his resolve to do this, warning that what he intended to do—what he had to do—would carry a price he’d pay daily for the rest of his life.

Quinn? Please. I’ve been waiting to talk to you about … our last visit.

He crushed the bar of soap, forcing his breath to slow down and focus on her as a threat. Think about how she’d breached his mental privacy. Time to harden his heart and see Kizira as he should have all along—a priestess of the queen who ruled the most dangerous enemy of the Beladors.

Grasping a towel to dry off, Quinn walked out to the living room and answered, What would we possibly discuss, Kizira?