Serpent's Kiss (Elder Races #3)(69)

He frowned and rubbed her back. Okay. Here, let me help you.

She buttoned her caftan unsteadily as he finger-combed her hair into some semblance of order. He tried to twist it into a knot at the nape of her neck and tuck it in on itself the way that she did, but he didn’t have the knack and it fell down her back again. Damn. You’ll have to let me know how you do that.

She gathered it up swiftly again and tucked it into place. Or maybe I’ll just cut it. It’s been a long time since I’ve had it short.

Really? He helped her to her feet. A short haircut would show off the gorgeous bones of her face, but that long extravagant fall of dark hair cascading to her hips was flagrantly feminine and outrageously beautiful. Could you grow it back if you cut it?

How did he do that? How did he manage to tuck that crazy out-of-control passion out of the way and act almost as if nothing had happened? She could barely stand on her feet, and even though she had climaxed, her body still felt empty and aching and unfulfilled.

Or maybe she was the only one who had experienced the crazy out-of-control passion, just as she was the only who had realized she had fallen in love. Falling in love was such a lonely business.

They had achieved an understanding back at the island cottage. They had made a pact, and she was very aware she had agreed to it. This was supposed to be a love affair with a built-in expiration date. Clearly he had been in control the entire time.

Well, he had discovered too many of her secrets already. He could not have this one as well. She would keep her epiphanies and realizations to herself.

She realized he had asked her a question and answered absently. My hair and fingernails stopped growing when I stopped taking in physical nourishment. If and when I cut it, it’ll be gone for good.

That would be tragic. Your hair is one of the wonders of the world. She smiled with pleasure at the compliment in spite of herself. He bent to pick up their bags. He asked, Are you ready?

She assumed a composed expression, twitched the skirt of her caftan to make sure it fell into place, and told him, Yes.

She felt his Power flex in a kind of release, and the shimmering cloak fell away. They strode toward the hotel’s front desk.

Gradually all the noise in the lobby died away. As far as everyone else was concerned, they had apparently appeared out of nowhere. Carling knew what they must look like, half dressed and disheveled, like shipwreck survivors. Rune was still shirtless, and her feet were bare. Sooner or later someone would recognize one or the other of them. Eventually somebody would call the paparazzi and all possibility of discretion would go to hell. After this kind of entrance, and especially after stopping at home, she really needed to make a point of calling Julian sooner rather than later.

None of it meant a thing to her. She certainly didn’t care what she looked like, and it was clear Rune didn’t either. She glanced sideways and down at his long legs keeping pace with hers. What struck her most was how she and Rune moved together, hip-to-hip in a smooth, ground-eating stride. They must look like they were a couple. She ignored the pang she felt at that. Feelings were so often an inconvenience to the rest of one’s life.

She focused on the front desk. A man in a charcoal gray suit rushed over to join a uniformed employee standing at attention in front of a computer. As they approached, the man stared, his face filled with wonder.

“Good morning, I’m Harry Rowling, one of the assistant managers,” he said in a hushed whisper. “Councillor Severan, what an unexpected honor.”

She nodded a greeting and watched as he turned his attention to Rune. The man went white and started to babble. “Sir, ah—Sentinel Ainissesthai . . . what a pleasure, I mean it’s an honor to have you here as well—”

Well yes, of course the rock star of the Wyr did not have just female fans. She would not let herself sigh, although she indulged in a pointed glance at Rune.

She went still and stared like the hotel manager.

Rune glittered everywhere with a barely restrained tension. His face was a loaded weapon, the bones standing out in stark relief, and his eyes were lambent with a dangerous, unpredictable light. One hand was clenched in a white-knuckled grip on the straps of their bags, the other fist pressed against his thigh. He breathed with such measured evenness, she found herself taking a step back.

Perhaps his control had not come as easily for him as she had thought. She started to smile.

Rune’s voice was soft as he said to the man, “I would like the key to my suite, please.”

“C-certainly, uh, would you like for me to check for any messages?”

“Later.” Rune glanced at Carling, who was staring at him in fascination. Rune turned his attention back to the man and waited a moment. Nothing happened. The man stood frozen like a rabbit in front of a wolf. He raised his eyebrows. “The key?”

Rowling started. “Of course! Sorry! Yes, the key!” He whirled to the uniformed employee and hissed between his teeth, “Get the key!”

They scrambled and fumbled, and within moments the key was offered to him. He held the hand that had caressed Carling’s—Carling’s—most private place clenched against his side, the fingers curled against his palm, and even then he could still catch the faint lingering scent of her arousal.

He wanted to lick his fingers. He wanted to punch the hotel employees for standing too close. It was a good thing they were just humans with weak human senses, or he might have. He felt like he was going crazy, and he did not dare look at her or the insane beast that bucked so wildly against his control might slip loose.