The Indigo Spell (Bloodlines #3)(68)

"Hey," I said. "Since we're here, can we look at the Bunny Suite again? We can't stop talking about it."

Alicia frowned. "I thought you were going to the coast for your anniversary?"

"We were," said Adrian, following my lead. "But then Taylor was thinking about Cottontail the other night, and we thought we should reconsider." I had to give him credit for jumping in and going along with the story I was making up on the spot. Of course, you'd think he'd remember the name of the fake rabbit he had created.

"Hopper," I corrected.

"Is the Bunny Suite still vacant?" he asked. "We can just take a quick peek in while you help her."

Alicia hesitated only a moment before handing over a key. "Sure. Let me know if you have any questions."

I took the key and headed toward the stairs with Adrian. Behind us, I could hear the woman asking if it'd be okay to set up a tent in the backyard and how many hot plates the inn could hold before it became a fire hazard. Once we were on the second floor and out of earshot, Adrian spoke. "Let me guess. You want to go prowl through the Velvet Suite."

I rewarded him with a grin, pleased that he'd guessed my plan. "Yup. Pretty good idea, huh? Hopefully Alicia will be distracted for a while."

"I could have just compelled her," he reminded me.

"You're using too much spirit already."

I found the Velvet Suite and put the key in the lock, hoping Alicia had given us the master key and not one specifically for the Bunny Suite. When she had shown us around last time, she'd only used one key. A click told me we'd lucked out and wouldn't have to use any metal-burning chemicals today.

We'd seen the Velvet Suite during our last visit, and for the most part, it looked the same. Velvet bedding, velvet-covered furniture, and even velvet-textured wallpaper. Only, this time, the room wasn't in the pristine and unoccupied state as before. Signs around the room showed recent use. The bed was unmade, and the scent of shampoo from the bathroom indicated a shower not too long ago.

"Alicia might have been wrong about Veronica checking out," said Adrian. He opened drawer after drawer and found nothing. In the closet, he discovered high-heeled shoes tucked into a corner and a belt on a hanger - things that might be easily missed with frantic packing. "Someone left here in a hurry."

My hopes plummeted. In accidentally revealing our "surprise," Alicia had apparently scared Veronica into skipping out on the room. We found no sign that Veronica would actually return, and as Adrian had said, she seemed to have taken off quickly, based on the kinds of easy-to-forget things that were left behind: a razor in the shower, a bottle of perfume on the bathroom counter, and a stack of takeout menus on the nightstand.

I sat on the bed and sifted through the menus, not really convinced they'd tell me much. Chinese, Indian, Mexican. Veronica had diverse tastes, at least. I reached the bottom of the stack and threw them on the ground.

"She left," I said. I couldn't hide from the truth any longer. "That idiot Alicia tipped her off, and now we've lost her again."

Adrian sat down beside me, his face mirroring my dismay. "We'll find her. We've slowed her down by hiding the others. Maybe it'll buy us time until the next full moon so you can scry again."

"I hope so," I said, though I wasn't optimistic.

He brushed aside the wig's hair and turned my face toward him. "Everything's going to be okay. She doesn't know about you."

I knew he was right, but it was hollow comfort. I leaned my head against his shoulder, wishing I could fix everything. That was my job, right? "All that means is that someone else could suffer in my place. I don't want that. I need to stop her once and for all."

"So brave." He gave me a small smile. His fingertips slid down from my face, lightly stroking the line of my neck, down toward my shoulder. Everywhere he touched, a trail of goose bumps appeared. How did he keep doing this to me? Marcus - who made every girl in the world swoon - had zero effect on me. But one whisper of a touch from Adrian completely undid me. "You could give Castile a run for his money," he added.

"Stop that," I warned.

"Comparing you to Castile?"

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it." His hands were too dangerous, as was being with him on a bed. Terrified I might be kissed again, I jerked away, and the sudden movement caught him by surprise. His fingers got tangled in my hair, as well as in my two necklaces, which resulted in him snapping both chains and nearly pulling off the brown wig. I quickly caught the garnet before it could fall off, but the cross slipped away. Thank God I'd kept the important one on. "No more kissing," I warned. I refastened the charm and straightened the wig.

"You mean no more kissing unless it's a romantic place," he reminded me. "Are you saying this place doesn't scream romance?" He nodded around to our tacky velvet surroundings. He then picked up the small cross and held it in the air, growing thoughtful as he studied the way the light played off the gold surface. "You gave this to me once."

"And you gave it back."

"I was angry."

"And now?"

He shrugged. "Now I'm just determined."

"Adrian." I sighed. "Why do you keep doing this? The touching . . . the kissing . . . you know I don't want it."