One Thousand Kisses (17 page)

The cat galloped across a parking lot to the front door of The Conch Shell Inn. The walkways outside the rooms were bordered by iron railings, but the two-story building was otherwise undistinguished. “Clean rooms!”, “Outdoor pool!” and “Vacancy!” blinked on the neon sign near the road. The sign was missing a letter so it read Conch
hell
Inn.

It was, Ani reflected, a bad sign in several ways.

Embor glared at the motel, flanked by an ice cream shop and a massive inn that towered above the smaller establishments. “Cat, this is unacceptable. It’s close to the ring. It’s ramshackle.”

The cat hunkered beside the doors and stared at them.

“Maybe he knows something we don’t. Could there be a cache of globes?” Tali and Jake kept supplies in several locations, but none in Florida.

“Not likely.”

“Clues about the Torvals?”

“The only clue we need is the fact they’re in Key West.”

“The cat must have reason to believe we should go inside.” She wished Master Fey would enlighten her. She wished Embor would enlighten her.

“I suppose no one attempting a getaway would voluntarily stay here,” Embor conceded. “As you pointed out, they’d head for the closest deadspace. North Florida, I believe.”

The cat pawed at the door.

“How long would it take Skythia to make enough globes to locate you?” Ani asked Embor. Locations in humanspace required tailored globes.

“Half a day.” He frowned. “Or more. She’s not that fast at globing.”

“So we go in?”

The cat did seem insistent. He wouldn’t have brought them here just to lose them to pursuers a few hours later.

“I suppose we need sleep.” Embor headed onto the property, stopping in the breezeway to withdraw a wallet from the rucksack. “Beachfront?”

Ani, who’d been right behind him, bumbled into the large backpack. “What?”

He eyed the building as if he could transform it into a more acceptable location with the strength of his gaze. As far as she knew, that couldn’t even happen in the Realm. “Do you desire a beachfront room?”

How kind of him to ask. “Yes, please.”

Embor dusted futilely at the stains on his clothing, straightened his shoulders and opened the glass door. The cat skittered into the lobby.

Tali had taken Ani to a number of human hotels, but none had been anything like The Conch hell Inn. The dank reception area overflowed with half-dead ferns and plants, many dangling from rusty chains. Embor ducked under a bush hanging in the center of the room. A stand of brochures separated two doors marked “Restroom” and “Employees Only”. Sand lined the tiles on the floor, and the temperature wasn’t much cooler than it had been outside. A clock on the wall read three a.m.

Instead of a gleaming welcome desk with uniformed employees, the narrow check-in had been constructed with a transparent barrier between customer and clerk. A hole at the bottom allowed an exchange of a key for money. A fan swiveled beside the somnolent clerk, fluttering the man’s lank hair.

Food stained his shirt. The scents of grease and fish did nothing to enhance the atmosphere. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice their disheveled state, all things considered.

“By the hour or for the night?” he asked, staring at Ani. She dodged behind a plant and feigned interest in its crumbling leaves.

Embor inspected the lobby, and the employee, with distaste. The cat wandered to a dead fern and sniffed it.

“The night.” He slid a gold card through the hole. “Beachfront.”

Dead leaves fluttered to the floor when Ani bumped the basket.

“No pets,” the man said.

Embor lowered his chin. “Double your rate. The cat remains with us.”

She snatched her hand back before she denuded the poor plant. Embor had only requested one room, which surprised her. He seemed like the kind of person who’d want his solitude.

“Yes, sir.” The man inspected the card. “Anything else, sir?”

Embor looked at her a moment before returning his attention to the clerk. “Two beds.”

Ani ducked her head. It wasn’t as if she wanted to share. They weren’t by any means courting. Why crowd themselves if they didn’t have to? Yet his pointed request for separate beds felt like a preemptive rebuff. Was he concerned she might have certain expectations after their various encounters?

Good gravy, after everything they’d been through, did he think she’d try to seduce him for political reasons?

“We have a room with two queens on the second floor.” The clerk tapped at his computer and slid Embor a receipt. “What type of car do you have?”

“How is that any of your business?” Embor asked, his voice frosty.

The man shrank in his seat. “Our lot is for guests only. If I could just get the make and model—”

“We parked elsewhere.”

“No problem, then.” He poked a key card through the hole. “Checkout is at ten.”

“Checkout is whenever we leave,” Embor corrected.

“Yes, sir,” the man repeated. “Go out the back to the stairs. Your room’s on the left. No lights along the beach because of the turtles, so keep your curtains drawn. Have a good night.”

“Doubtful,” Embor muttered. Ani followed him through the lobby, and the cat followed her. When they exited, red ground lights edged the walkways enough to see. The dunes weren’t as pronounced as they had been near the ring, and the sea breeze ruffled her hair. Their room was at the end.

Embor unlocked the door but blocked her before she could enter. “Wait.”

He left the door open as he searched, inspecting the television, phone, beds, restroom, curtains, locks, air conditioner, sink and dresser. The cat slid past her and hopped onto the first bed.

“What are you looking for?” she asked Embor.

He placed the backpack on the dresser. “Incongruities. You may enter.”

She leaned against the jamb and hugged herself. “Wouldn’t you prefer your own room?”

“Why do you ask?” He unbuckled the largest compartment on the backpack and pulled out a silver bag.

She bit her fingernail, wondering how to phrase her concern. “So you can have some privacy. We’ve been stuck together for a while now.”

His grey eyes flickered with some emotion she didn’t recognize. It was tricky to read people without her abilities. “Is that your preference?”

Tali was always encouraging her to speak her mind, and she’d certainly done so on the beach. Should she reassure Embor she had no intention of propositioning him?

Despite the fact she’d practically done so the night of her panic attack. And he’d practically done so last night, in the grip of passions that had nothing to do with pleasure. And he’d kissed her during the infusion. And, although Embor didn’t know this, the cat kept encouraging them to mate for whatever catty reason he refused to reveal.

But instead of letting him know she had sex on her mind, she said, “No, I should stay here in case you have withdrawals.”

“I’m not going to get sick.” He was so self-assured she almost believed it. “Lock the door behind you.”

She swallowed the impulse to say, “Yes, sir,” like the clerk. Missishness had no place here. But it wasn’t missishness that twisted her belly when the door shut behind her with a distinct thud.

Chapter Twelve

The cat had slept with Embor instead of her. Ani found that amusing, especially considering Master Fey had waited until Embor had fallen asleep to press against the Primary’s head.

Embor hadn’t removed his clothes until the lights were off, and she’d been disappointed, which was ridiculous. As a healer and an adult, she’d seen all kinds of skin. Fairies weren’t as diverse as humans, but their coloring and bodies did vary.

When she woke, the tension of the past couple of days sprang back to life like saplings recovering from a rainstorm. Embor was still asleep, so she tried to occupy herself. She braided and unbraided her hair. She meditated. She recited the names of Primaries in chronological order. The air-conditioning clicked on with a whine, flapping the curtains just enough for Ani to hear it.

Embor muttered something and shifted positions. The cat gave an irritated grumble. After a long silence, Embor muttered something distinct.

“No.”

Ani’s hand hovered near the lamp, but she didn’t want to wake him. He needed all the rest he could get. It had been half a day since she’d infused him, and withdrawals could have set in. He’d want to resume his quest when he woke no matter how he felt. She understood why—unless he tried to leave her behind.

He was, whether he realized it or not, her patient now.

“No,” he repeated, his voice husky.

“Master Fey,” Ani whispered, “are you teasing him?”

Embor’s mattress squeaked. “Anisette.”

She swung her feet to the floor and squinted into the dark. The curtains blocked the sun. She could barely discern his form on the other bed.

“Embor, do you need something?”

A soft moan was her response. Gnome venom or withdrawals? If she went to buy human medications, she’d have to leave him alone.

“Primary.” She leaned forward until her hand brushed his bed. Cold air bathed her skin as the covers twitched beneath her fingers.

“Can’t.” Embor’s voice cracked. The cat appeared out of nowhere and pounced on Ani’s hand, giving her a scare.

“Did you do this?” The cat had been curled so conspicuously against Embor’s head. “If this is some trick to get us into bed, kitty, it doesn’t work like that. Fairies don’t just have sex.”

Master Fey leapt to her mattress and batted her rear end. One of his claws hooked her flesh, and she stifled a yelp. “Can you talk here?”

“Mrow.”

It sounded like no. “I’ll take that as a negative. We need to work on communication, don’t you think?”

“Meh,” said the cat.

She smiled. “That sounded like a—”

“Hurts,” Embor groaned.

Ani’s healing instincts kicked in. She couldn’t bear for Embor to be in pain. What could she do? She crawled across his bed, locating him at the edge of the mattress. He’d tossed the blankets below his torso.

“Help me.”

His cry was so familiar. Who’d asked for her help recently? Certainly not Sir Self-Sufficient. “I’m trying.”

He shifted, but her weight on the covers pinned his legs. She smoothed a hand up his arm. Her fingers detected scar tissue all along the limb. She moved to his broad shoulder, his neck, checking the scratches for infection. Checking his pulse. His skin was cool.

She patted his jaw. “Embor.”

He thrashed away, and she caught him before he tumbled off the bed. She pressed his shoulders to the mattress, like a patient with convulsions.

“You’re dreaming.” The withdrawals had given him a nightmare. If she were having a nightmare, spirits forbid, she’d want to be free of it as soon as possible.

He didn’t respond, so she shook him. “Embor, wake up.”

His hands shot up and buried in her hair. With a yank that nearly scalped her, he threw her across the bed.

Ani anchored herself to his forearms to ease the pull on her hair. She landed on her back, him atop her. His weight knocked the breath from her lungs.

The pain shocked tears from her eyes. Mental illnesses were so rare among fairies that methods of treatment weren’t taught in standard classes. Gangee had shown her how to induce sleep, but she couldn’t use it. She had no magic. She didn’t even have aspirin.

If Embor didn’t quit fighting her, she was going to have no hair.

“Wake up!” she yelled. By Hella, his grip hurt. She pulled at his wrists.

“Help me,” he demanded, his hair shadowing his face.

She’d help him, all right. Enough was enough.

Her nightgown had rumpled around her hips. He wore nothing but drawers. She worked her knee between his and hiked it between his thighs.

Hard.

With an unmanly gasp, he rolled off her and curled into fetal position.

“Are you awake?” She groped for his carotid artery, covered by his heavy hair. His pulse was elevated, common when people were in pain.

“Anisette,” he croaked. “Why in Ka’s breath did you assault me?”

“I had to.” She shoved her hair out of her face. “The withdrawals gave you a nightmare.”

“Meh,” added the cat from behind her.

“Here?”

“Yes, here.” Anisette flicked on the lamp. The yellow light gleamed on his skin and golden hair. Muscles rippled in his back as he hunched over his midsection. Scratches marred his shoulders, mostly at his nape. “Where would you expect to have a nightmare?”

“Nowhere. Hells.”

“I’m sure you don’t feel well.” She assessed him clinically. Somewhat clinically. He appeared to be in fine physical shape, not the case with all high-level fairies. Many who could transport themselves didn’t get much exercise.

“My skin feels like the cat’s trying to get out of it.” The strain in his voice eased, as if confession relieved pain. “And my head…”

“It shouldn’t last long.” Her scalp smarted from the hair pulling, but she doubted it compared to a withdrawal headache. “Maybe a couple hours.” She hoped it was true. His lucidity was a good sign.

He flopped onto his back and rubbed his eyes. His chest and abdomen matched his back—muscled, lean and fine. She remained on the bed, ready to comfort him. “The globes were temporary, Anisette.”

“I believe you.” They always were. Homeopathic treatments circled through her head. Certain herbs and foods, none of which they had. Warm baths. Dark rooms. Hydration. Massages.

Should she offer? She’d never treated a patient she was attracted to. It would be difficult to touch him all over without becoming aroused.

His chest rose and fell as he moderated his breathing. “I wouldn’t have let it go much longer.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” She longed to ask why he’d resorted to globes in the first place, but that wouldn’t help him get through the next several hours. Around exam time, there was always a minor epidemic of globe abuse in the trainee dorms. “Should I go buy aspirin?”

“No.” His lips pinched together. “I’ll… We’ll manage. This is my own fault.”

“Meh,” said the cat, clearly agreeing.

“It happens to lots of people,” she assured him, a lump in her throat. He was so self-conscious. If he fell asleep again, she was going to find a pharmacy.

He opened his eyes. “How did you know I was having a nightmare?”

She kneaded her scalp. “You thrashed around on the bed.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.” She dropped her gaze to his legs, skipping his drawers. The wound on his calf wasn’t visible from this angle but he had strong thighs. Long bones. Surprisingly elegant feet. “Well, mostly all.”

He rolled onto his side, facing her. “Did I talk?”

Hardly ever. “You didn’t say anything incriminating.”

“What did I do?” His expression darkened. “Why did you do what you did?”

If she told him, he’d feel terrible. She was essentially unscathed. “I couldn’t wake you.”

“May I suggest water in the face next time?” He palmed her knee, frowned and looked at his fingers. Strands of red hair twisted around them. “How did your hair… Hells.”

Embor sat up and caught her in his arms. Dragging her into his lap, he secured her chin. “I hurt you.”

“Not really.” She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she placed them on his shoulders. His hair brushed her fingers.

His skin was no longer chilly.

Heat stole across her as well. “Your scratches aren’t bad. I don’t think we’ll have an issue with venom. I should check your leg.”

“Later.” He held her in place when she tried to get up. “Tell me what I did.”

“It’s not important. I should get you some water.” She was more concerned with what he was about to do. Her nightgown was still crumpled around her hips, and her position against him was intimate. Her thighs lay across his, the side of her bosom against his bare chest.

“It’s important to me.” His grip on her chin softened. Long fingers cupped her cheek.

Ani leaned into his touch. This kept happening between them. It would have been comical, how many times they’d been in each other’s arms the past couple of days, if it hadn’t had such an astonishing effect on her libido. She wasn’t laughing about that at all.

He had no fire magic here, but she was certain she was about to combust.

The cat on the other bed began to purr. Hairy little voyeur.

“Did I molest you?” Embor asked. “The other night I—”

“No, no.” She stroked his shoulders. His skin slid beneath her fingers like velvet. “You pulled my hair when I tried to restrain you. You were about to fall off the bed.”

He brushed her lips with his thumb. “Nothing else?”

Her breath caught in her throat.
Oh my stars.
This could not be happening. Again. Should she stop it? Should she act on it?

“Why would you think you’d do such a thing? Do you often molest women after a difficult day?” she joked, stalling for time.

“Never.” He released a slow breath. “You are—”

Half-naked in his bed. “Special, no doubt.”

He quirked an eyebrow and threaded his fingers into her hair, lightly massaging. “You have sufficient hair left.”

“I had a lot to begin with.” Beneath her rear, his body was having a marked response.

Oh my stars.

She was suddenly grateful to be female. Her own lust would go mostly undetected.

“I thought you had a headache?” she blurted out. How had she and everyone at Court overlooked how sensuous his lips were, how perfect the angles of his cheeks and jaw? How had no one guessed his unbound hair would be like warm satin? How had he not gotten twenty proposition cards a day?

“It’s fading.”

“You’re having withdrawals.”

“Perhaps.”

The mild, hypnotic circles on her scalp weren’t sexual, yet they were. She was the one who should be massaging him. She cupped the back of his neck, beneath his hair. The movement shifted her thin gown against her sensitized nipples.

Somewhat breathless, she tried to make conversation. “You had the other nightmares because of what happened to you, right?”

He studied her face, his gaze piercing. “This isn’t the same.”

His eyes were often described as icy, but their color was more like steam, wrapping around her, heating her from the outside in.

She risked a quick squeeze of his neck, hoping the pressure would nudge him forward a few inches. It didn’t. He lowered his eyelids, his lashes gold-tipped, and grazed the skin beneath her ear with a callused fingertip.

She wanted to purr like Master Fey and wind her body around Embor in pleasure. At what point would their mutual touching be considered a first move if they were going to ignore his…lap? It was increasingly difficult to ignore. She had no experience in ambiguity. One either accepted a proposition card or one did not. There was never a question about another fairy’s intent. Never any wondering whether he was ever, ever going to kiss her.

“Did you seek treatment before?” She was this close to squirming. Sex was a novel way to treat globe withdrawal, but she was in humanspace. She had to make do.

“I handled it. Once I capture the Torval agents, the nightmares will never return.” His breathing was regulated, but he was affected enough to have an erection. He stroked her neck. Downward. His palms feathered across her collarbones.

Oh stars.
She couldn’t concentrate when his hands were that close to her breasts. His callused fingers. His mouth.

“One of the…the natural remedies for globe withdrawal is touching. I mean, massage. I have training. Not warm hands like you, but it might help.” The words fell awkwardly into the inadequate space between them. She wanted to lean back and tug him on top of her. Grab his hair and hold him to her breast. Or lower.

At the same time she wanted to push him into the pillows and… Well, he hadn’t appreciated being pinned to the mattress earlier.

She slid trembling hands down his upper arms until she reached his elbows. Multiple circles of raised flesh branded his skin.

“The scars?” she whispered.

A tiny shake of his head. “Not now, Anisette.”