I decide to be annoyed about that another time.
At the moment, all I want is to put a thick door between Lauren and anything with fangs.
I put an arm around her shoulder possessively and start to direct her toward the door beside Kharon’s. At the last moment, I detour one room further down the hall.
Babies cry. A lot, apparently. And I don’t want us to be disturbed tonight.
I have plans for tonight that require privacy.
And quiet.
And Lauren’s complete, undivided attention.
TWENTY-FIVE
LAUREN
As soon asRemus closes the door behind us, I grab his arm. “Oh my gosh, this is officially the creepiest place I’ve ever been,” I whisper, looking around a room that looks like a fine hotel suite—if the interior decorator had a serious fetish for black.
At least it’s not black and red. That would have been a little too on the nose.
Instead, there’s a black accent wall behind the large king-sized bed—matte black with subtle texture that might be damask or velvet. The other three walls have textured wallpaper in charcoal gray, creating depth and shadow. Black furniture. Black curtains. Even the bedding is black silk.
And there are no windows. Not a single one.
Naturally, I think a moment later, reality settling over me like cold water. Is this where visiting vampires sleep during the day? Just how many of them are there, anyway?
How has a whole world been hiding right within the one I knew? How did I go twenty-eight years without realizing thatvampires and angels and dragons and god-knows-what-else are real?
Then again, from what Remus said, he’d only encountered one vampire before, and he and his brothers have been around for thousands of years. So maybe it’s not as common as I’m imagining. Maybe most humans live their entire lives never knowing.
But I shudder as I remember the other things that head honcho Vlad guy had talked about. “And what the hell is a dybbuk?”
Remus just waves a hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t worry about that. They’re probably just a myth.”
“Like vampires?” I ask, planting a hand on my hip. “And the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”
He shrugs—that casual, infuriating shrug—and comes closer. “All that matters now is that we’re safe.”
“For the moment,” I counter.
With another shrug, he wraps his arms around my waist and draws me close against his chest. “This moment is all we need.”
I let out a little huff, staring up at his strange, glamoured face. It’s still him—I can see it in his eyes, in the way he moves—but wrong somehow. “It’s weird not being able to see the real you.”
“I’m still here.” He grins. “And what, I thought you’d like this more handsome version of me?”
I frown at him, genuinely offended by the suggestion. “I like you just the way you are. Your actual face. And I miss your tail and wings.”
He cracks a genuine grin at that—pleasure lighting his features. “For once, I’m trying to be a good boy and follow Abaddon’s rules. He says to keep the glamour on at all times here.” His hands slide lower on my body. “But I still have these two hands.”
He drops them down my waist, curving around to my backside and squeezing appreciatively. “Even when I was plucking planes out of the air today, I could still taste remnants of your essence on my tongue. You drive me wild, beautiful one.”
Then he quirks an eyebrow—far less dramatically than usual in his glamoured state. “Or perhaps I should say, you drive me tame.”
“I don’t ever want to tame you.” The words come out fiercer than I expect. “I like you wild.”
He chuckles—low and warm. “It might not be the worst thing in the world. Even I can admit that sometimes I get a little...” His head tilts side to side. “...unpredictable.”
