Storm's Heart (Elder Races #2)(29)

It was the hotel manager, Hughes. “I just wanted to let you know, the representative from the Elder tribunal has arrived and has taken over one of the floors between her highness and the Dark Fae delegation.” He wrung his hands.

Tiago’s gaze narrowed on the nervous movement of Hughes’s hands. “Which Councillor did the tribunal send?” he demanded.

Hughes said, “The one from San Francisco. The next floor up has been taken over by Vampyres.”

SIX

“Is it true the Vampyre Councillor is a sorceress?” the hotel manager asked.

Tiago rubbed his face as he briefly considered lying, but he was more interested in getting back to the interrupted conversation with Niniane. “Yeah, it’s true,” he said.

The manager’s expression was a combination of dismay and fascination. If Tiago was a sympathetic type of person, he might have felt sorry for Hughes, whose entire fancy-ass hotel had been overrun by Elder politics in just a matter of days.

He scowled. Why was Niniane so interested in getting rid of him? And why was he just as determined to stay?

He started to close the door in Hughes’s face, but just then the door to the neighboring suite opened. A uniformed woman pushed a laden room service cart into the hall and angled it toward him. Only the thought of how little sustenance Niniane had taken in over the last few days kept him from slamming the door, throwing the chain and going back into the living room to pick a fight with her. He sighed and held the door open wide.

The living room was empty of both Niniane and shopping bags, and her bedroom door was closed. He moved the laptop as Hughes asked for permission to set out their breakfast. The hotel manager helped the woman arrange the table. The humans glanced often at Tiago, the closed bedroom door and the disassembled weaponry on the coffee table.

Tiago rubbed the back of his neck and resisted the urge to pace. The humans were fussing over the frickin’ table setting like it was some kind of religious ritual. They settled a white cloth into place and arranged a small vase of fresh-cut flowers just so, not precisely in the middle of the table but a little to one side. What was the big deal? All they had to do was throw down two plates, knives and forks and the food. Plus they were taking far too long. They were probably hoping to see her bloody mindedness. He gritted his teeth.

The bedroom door opened. Niniane walked out. She was dressed in a pale peach lounge suit with a top that buttoned down the front, loose flared capri pants and the new slippers that had been selected for their sleek look and comfortable fit. The color brought richness to her delicate pale skin and emphasized the depth and hue of her dark gray eyes, while the cut of the suit flattered her small hourglass figure.

Inclined to feel brutal, Tiago studied her with a critical eye. Actually, she looked ridiculous. Her nose tilted up at the end. Her face was too angular, her eyes too big, her mouth too full. She had freckles, and the tips of her long ears were pointed. How did all of those things combine to make her so mouthwateringly beautiful? What was that elusive quality she exuded until it seemed to dance in the air? It was like the twinkle of sunlight on water, impossible to capture or define; it was just Niniane.

Both Hughes and the woman lit up when Niniane appeared. They gave her awkward but deeply felt bows.

That was when Tiago witnessed firsthand the effect she had on people. He watched Niniane light up in response to the humans’ presence. She walked over to them, her hands outstretched. She greeted them like they were long-lost friends. She beamed at the fresh flowers and asked after Hughes’s children (who knew? Tiago sure as hell hadn’t, nor did he care). She learned that the other woman’s name was Esperanza, an avid gardener and lover of flowers. Hughes held out her chair, and Niniane thanked him as she sat.

Every ounce of Niniane’s attitude was sincere. She was a bodyguard’s worse nightmare, a recognizable famous woman with charm who genuinely loved people, and they adored her in return.

Tiago’s hands fisted. He didn’t love people. If people weren’t such a goddamn pain in the ass, he wouldn’t be at war all the time. He wanted to smash Hughes’s face for holding out her chair before he could think to do it. He wanted to knock these humans’ heads together and toss them out of the suite, preferably out the window. He wanted to rile Niniane up and watch her sputter, then pin that little sex kitten down, cover her with his body and show her who was boss. Breathing hard, he turned away.

Silence fell. Then Niniane said, “Tiago? Are you going to come eat your breakfast?”

His neck muscles tightened. She sounded like she was wary of him.

Yeah, there was a reason for that.

He forced his body to relax and to turn around in slow, controlled movements. Niniane looked at him with wide eyes, and the humans smelled nervous. No matter how polite he might try to act, some subliminal part of them would always recognize that he was a predator. So he didn’t bother. They withdrew almost imperceptibly as he strolled to the table and sat.

“Thank you,” he said to them, his voice curt, dismissive. Hughes sent the woman Esperanza to tidy the kitchen and make fresh coffee, while he collected their coffee mugs from the living room area and joined her.

“I don’t know what the hell’s the matter with you,” Niniane muttered as she glared down at the gleaming metal cover on her plate. “As far as I know, it might be a congenital defect and not your fault. But whatever it is, cowboy, you’ve got to dial it down or—”