We wouldn’t be sleeping at the warehouse, but it would be our nightly base of operations since the hotel we’d be using was a busy tourist stop, and we couldn’t come and go without drawing unwanted attention. And we certainly couldn’t bring in three coffins without questions being asked.
The hotel was outfitted with light-safe privacy suites thanks to all the demanding nocturnal guests who had stayed there over the last hundred years. We had nothing to worry about in the sunlight department. I didn’t know whether or not the hotel was aware their sensitive guests were vampires, but they had definitely grown accustomed to catering to some seriously strange demands.
Maxime assured me the two-bedroom penthouse he’d secured for us was designed to suit any needs we might have, and we’d be left alone during the day. He also made it clear Holden and I would be very comfortable in our room, and his own bedchamber—his word—was at a nice distance across the suite.
He wanted me to know he wouldn’t be listening in if Holden and I wanted to do the nasty.
It was both thoughtful and a little creepy of him to go to such lengths. I didn’t ask why he hadn’t just booked his own room. He appeared to be thirteen, so there was no way he could have a suite to himself without it seeming suspicious.
In a lot of ways Maxime retained much of the childish innocence he must have had when he’d been human. Though he was only a couple decades shy of his bicentennial, he still had a wide-eyed appreciation for the world around him and delighted in sharing his experiences with others. I was genuinely touched by the way he attempted to draw my attention to the sights of the city, like a little boy might share a captured butterfly with friends. He saw so much beauty in it, and wanted others to see it too, to understand it the way he did.
It dawned on me the reason I liked Max so much was because he reminded me of Brigit. They had the same sweetness, in spite of being vampires, and there was a certain guileless quality to Maxime that made him loveable. At first I’d thought it was a trick because of his youthful face, a perfect ploy to lure unsuspecting victims in. But the longer I spent time with him, the more I realized that was just his way.
Now I understood why Holden had insisted I trust the younger vampire. I wasn’t sure I did yet—not absolutely—but I didn’t need to trust someone in order to like them.
After our quick moonlit tour of the warehouse, we made our way to the hotel.
Inside the lobby I hung back while Holden and Maxime checked in, and while perusing the various pamphlets on historical San Francisco tours, a familiar voice said, “Secret?”
I stopped dead, pamphlet still in my hand, and tried to tell myself it was all in my imagination. I was not hearing that low, rumbly baritone. It did not make the wolf inside me stir from her slumber and perk both ears up like she’d been whistled at.
“Secret, is that you?”
I glanced over my shoulder, and my eyes confirmed what my brain still refused to believe.
Lucas Rain was standing five feet away from me.
Chapter Seventeen
“What are you doing here?” I snarled, unable to mask my displeasure in seeing him. There’d been a time when I might have feigned politeness towards my ex-boyfriend, but I didn’t think Lucas warranted the effort anymore.
They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. That goes quadruple for a woman stood up on her wedding day.
Especially when the groom-to-be refuses to admit he’s done anything wrong.
“I might ask you the same question,” he countered. “I own this hotel. So what are you doing here?”
My gaze darted side to side, making sure there were no humans within eavesdropping distance. I didn’t see any people, but did spot Dominick Alvarez, Desmond’s brother and Lucas’s personal bodyguard. The small blond man was seated in the lobby nearby, and when he saw me, he raised an eyebrow and gave a wave. I returned the gesture, and to Lucas I explained, “I’m here on council business.”
“You’re in San Fran doing vampire work?” He looked grossed out by the idea.
“Yes.”
Holden and Maxime came up, and since Maxime was blithely unaware of the change in my demeanor—maybe because I hadn’t been very cheerful before—he continued to chatter on to no one in particular.
Holden wasn’t oblivious. He took one look at Lucas and grabbed me by the arm, tugging me protectively to his side. Sure, he could barely spare me a glance the entire trip here, but throw one werewolf king into the mix and he got all handsy.
Go figure.
“What’s he doing here?” When Holden and Lucas both asked this question simultaneously, I almost laughed. Too bad I was still flustered from Lucas’s sudden appearance to find anything funny right then.
“I’m her consort,” Holden said, a victorious tone in his voice. Lucas was a king; he wouldn’t miss the meaning of the word.
Unfortunately, according to Lucas, I was still his queen, so—
“Who are these people?” A twenty-something woman with a familiar face came up to Lucas’s side and threaded her arm under his. “Luke, who are your friends?” she asked again when he didn’t reply right away.
Luke? Only Kellen, Lucas’s younger sister, had ever called him Luke. I was used to people treating him with near-reverential respect because of who he was. This girl clearly had no idea.
“Willow, this is Holden Chancery.” He spit the name out like it was poison on his tongue.
“Charmed,” Holden said with a doozy of a smile. He took Willow’s hand and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles.
If he didn’t turn down the charm a few notches, there wouldn’t be a dry pair of panties in the whole hotel.
“Do I know you?” Willow gave Holden an intense stare. “You look familiar. Did we do an indie awhile ago?”
“An…indie?” He was usually quick on the uptake with most twenty-first century lingo, but the term had apparently evaded him.
“An independent movie,” I whispered.
“Oh. No, I’m not an actor.” If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a gleam of pride in his eyes at being mistaken for one, though. He was a vain creature to the core.
“What a shame. Cheekbones like those.” Willow gave him a once-over that was equal parts sexual and predatory. I’d seen the same expression on serious antique collectors who desperately wanted to possess something. She wasn’t looking at him like he was a person, but rather a thing.
Her comment about films made my recognition of her face click. “Sorry, you’re Willow Chalmers?”
She beamed like a thousand-watt spotlight at being recognized. “Guilty as charged. And you are?” The cursory glance she gave me wasn’t nearly as interested as the one she’d given Holden.
“Secret McQueen.”
The initial curl of her lip when she heard my name was a common enough response. People had a lot of trouble taking my name seriously, and it was a burden I’d learned to live with. Especially after finding out my mother had wanted to name me Harmony. Ick.
But getting such a dismissive look from a girl who shared her name with a tree, a television witch and a dwarf? Come on.
“Secret…McQueen?” She repeated my name back to me as if to say, Are you sure that’s what you want to go with? Then she seemed to process it and looked from me to Lucas. When her gaze returned to me, her mouth had gone slack.
I guess the gossip columns out west had liked my story as much as they had in New York.
“You’re Lucas’s ex.”
“I am Lucas’s ex,” I said almost gleefully, leaning hard on the last word when I met the wolf king’s gaze. “The one he ditched at the altar. Without so much as a phone call. Yup, that’s me.”
Now that she knew who I was, she didn’t seem sure of how to respond. I was guessing if I’d been just any other girl, she’d have pawed at him a little to make it clear he was hers, but I didn’t want him and that confused her.
Who didn’t want a beautiful, charming billionaire, right?
Me, for one.
But I also knew Lucas, and I knew this girl was going to end up one more notch on his bedpost. Willow Chalmers was human. There was nothing special or supernatural about her, and because of that she couldn’t be a permanent fixture in his life.
I almost felt pity for him, cavorting around with this poor human girl to fill some empty void inside. A void he’d probably claim I left him with.
I wrapped my arm around Holden’s waist and leaned my head into his shoulder, smiling at Lucas. “Lovely to see you. We should be going, though.”
“Oh.” Willow seemed surprised we didn’t want to stay. “We were just heading to the restaurant for dinner. There’s a guest chef in from South Africa who makes the most orgasmic quail.” Her attention shifted to Holden when she said orgasmic. “Won’t you join us?”
That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.
“Sounds great,” Holden said, never taking his eyes off Lucas. “Don’t you think so, Luke?”
“I don’t know if—” Lucas began to protest, but Willow tugged his sleeve like a little girl begging a parent for candy.
“Don’t say no, please. It’ll be fun. Don’t you think it will be fun, Secret?”
Did I think having dinner with my ex-fiancé, his movie-star girlfriend and my vampire lover would be fun? No. Fun was not the word I would have chosen.
Holden was only agreeing to rub our relationship in Lucas’s face. Desmond and Holden might have disliked each other, but they still worked together for the common good and could pretend to be nice in order to appease me.
Holden and Lucas hated each other. Reviled each other. Their feelings about each other made Holden and Desmond’s relationship look like a bromance. There was no way in hell this dinner was a good idea. But if I could get Lucas alone, however briefly, I might be able to find out where we stood as far as our werewolf marriage went. I was within arm’s reach of him and had yet to taste anything remotely like cinnamon. And my wolf didn’t feel the tug to be near him she once had.