Rafe swears as he turns to look at the window and then rubs a hand over his face when he sees I’m right.
“Do you see me?” I ask, though I almost don’t want to.
Rafe stares across the room, looking very much like Jonathan when he’s reading someone’s magic or mind. After a moment, the knight shakes his head. “No.”
“Did you actually try?”
“Do you actually want me to try?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah.”
He laughs a little, shaking his head like this is crazy. He then rolls his shoulders and stares at the wall. “Okay, what do I do?”
“I don’t know—just concentrate on my voice. Maybe picture me in your mind?”
He stands there, phone to his ear, looking like he doesn’t think this is the greatest idea. He then lets out a long breath and focuses. I know the moment he sees me. Our eyes meet, and it’s like I’m there, and he’s here, and it’s way weird.
“Hi,” I murmur, still talking into the phone.
He takes a step forward, his eyebrows twitching as a cautious smile spreads across his face. “How are we doing this?”
“I don’t know. Magic?”
His smile becomes a grin. “I didn’t figure it was a new service added to our mobile plan.”
“Imagine how cool it would be if it were.” Biting my bottom lip, I take a step forward and hold up my hand, palm out.
“I’ve seen this movie before,” he teases, but he raises his hand as well, mirroring mine.
When we’re here, standing face to face, I notice more than before. Like how tired he looks, how his dark brown hair stands in messy tufts like he’s been running his fingers through it.
“Indulge me.” I take another step forward, pausing when our fingers are only a few inches apart. My eyes lock with his deep blue ones, and several moments pass.
“Always,” he says at a whisper, and I can’t tell if I hear him through the phone or through our link.
I swallow, moving forward. Just when our hands should touch, Rafe’s fingers flicker like smoke.
“Oh well.” I drop my arm, trying to hide my disappointment. “We had to try.”
Rafe shoves his hands into his front pockets and shrugs. “Looks like it’s just a visual connection.”
Before I can answer, his gaze moves behind me. He jerks his chin toward the bed. “What’s that?”
I turn, wondering what embarrassing thing I might have left out. But the bed is made, and there’s not a bra or box of tampons in sight.
There is, however, a single white envelope on the pillow.
“The maid must have left it.” I cross to the bed, flick the envelope open, and pull out the folded paper inside.
As soon as I read the single line of typed words, my blood goes cold.
“Lexie?” Rafe asks, his tone sharp.
I snap my attention back to him, closing the note and tossing it aside. “Just a complimentary coupon for the buffet.”
He stares at me, and it’s obvious he knows I’m lying. I give him a smile, hoping he’ll let it drop because he must find the locations of the thresholds for me. The last thing I need is him flying to Vegas now. And I’m quite sure that’s precisely what he would do if he read that lovely message—link or no link.
A knock sounds at the door, followed by Eric hollering, “Hey Maddie. Let’s get some dinner.”
Rafe quirks an eyebrow and drawls, “Good thing you have a coupon for the buffet.”
“Yep.” I cross the room, avoiding his eyes, and grab my purse. “I’ll talk to you again tomorrow, all right?”
“Okay,” he says reluctantly, probably trying to decide if he’s going to demand I show him the note.
“Night.” I end the call, wondering what will happen now. Will we be stuck in each other’s minds forever? Because it’s a little disorienting. (Or a lot disorienting.) And what happens when it’s time to change or shower?
Never mind. I don’t want to think about it.
For several seconds, Rafe stands in front of me, but then he begins to fade. It must be his voice—a true connection no matter how incorporeal it might be—that allows it.
When I’m sure he’s gone, I look around the quiet room, trying not to shiver. Someone was in here, in my space. They could have snooped through my things, had their hands on my clothes and personal belongings.
I open the note again, my hands shaking as I read it one more time.
Long live the queen.
17
Gray, Jonathan, Eric, and I skip the buffet and head to a casual café on the main level. As we wait for our food, I try to figure out a way to tell the guys about the lovely message that was delivered to my room in a way that won’t cause them to freak the heck out. It sits in my purse like a dirty secret.
“So…” I begin when there’s a lull in the conversation. As I put my words in order, I fold my paper napkin in half and then roll it into a tube. “Apparently someone broke into my room earlier.”
As expected, three sets of eyes snap my way, their conversation about sports forgotten.
“What?” Jonathan demands.
Instead of explaining, I pull out the note and hand it to him. The Griffon eyes me for a minute before he flicks it open, his frown deepening. He breathes out a curse as soon as he reads the brief message and then passes the note to Gray.
Eric reads over our team leader’s shoulder. He looks at me, his face etched with concern. “How?”
Gray very carefully folds the note and places it on the table. He takes a slow drink of his soda and then looks at us. “First thoughts?”
“Trent,” Jonathan says immediately.
Gray looks at me. “Does anyone else know about you besides us?”
I shake my head, helpless. But who knows who the pixie might have told?
Jonathan meets my eyes and shakes his head. “No, there’s one other person besides Trent that most likely knows what you are.”
“Jenna,” I breathe. With everything that’s happened, I completely forgot. If the Heron is alive, there is an excellent chance she saw me use my magic to control the creatures—anyone within a quarter mile of the scene would have.
If she’s with the Entitled, she most certainly would go to them with the information. If she’s not with the Entitled, and nothing but a money-hungry criminal, she might try to blackmail us. Everyone knows my family is well off.
“Someone wants you to know they’re out there, but they’re not ready to make their move,” Gray says. “They just want to scare you—let you know they’re watching.”
“It sounds like Trent,” Jonathan growls.
The problem with the pixie is that he can shapeshift into a maid, a hotel manager—anyone. And Jonathan can’t read his magic because of that blasted medallion he wears.
“Maybe we need to find a War Horse,” I say, referring to the Equus faction—the metalsmiths, the enchanters. In medieval times, they forged deadly swords and strong armor. They also created small enchantments like the clipeum medallion. Unfortunately, there aren’t many left. Though their magic is strong, the gene that carries it is weaker than most. If a War Horse chose a spouse from a different faction, their children were rarely born with the smithing skill.
“Where?” Jonathan asks. “The few that are left still live in Europe. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a family here in the states.”
“Then I’ll fly to Europe,” I say.
Eric laughs. “Spoken like a girl raised with money.”
I give him a dry look and then turn to Gray.
“I would let you go,” he says. “But not without protection, and I can’t spare Jonathan or Eric right now. I would request the team be transferred off the case, but it would raise too many questions at the guild. Your father made it very clear we were to act in a manner that avoids undue suspicion.”
“You spoke with my dad?” I ask, surprised.
“He called before the meeting yesterday.” He leans forward, lowering hi
s voice. “You are our priority.”
I look away. “Yes, I know. You’ve been stuck with babysitting duty.”
“We’ve been charged with protecting someone invaluable—which is something I didn’t understand at first, and I’m sorry for that. It is an honor, not a burden.”
A lump forms in my throat, but I manage to nod.
“But,” Gray continues, looking down, “since no one in the Royal Guild can know of your existence, including my brother, we must keep up appearances.”
“What about Rafe?” Eric asks. “Could he take her to Europe?”
Gray looks like he’s not about to let me alone with Rafe, but before he can respond, I say, “He’s concerned about our link and feels it’s safer if we keep our distance.”
It’s a logical reason—one that seems to satisfy Eric and Gray both. But in truth, I don’t want to pull Rafe from his task of searching for the thresholds. Trent is undoubtedly a nuisance—and a dangerous one at that—but the shadow creatures pose a much greater threat.
“What if it’s not Trent?” Jonathan asks rather suddenly. He turns to me. “Remember the Fox in the elevator?”
“But he got out before us,” I argue, surprised I forgot about the man. He was certainly acting suspicious. “All he saw was our floor number. There are hundreds of rooms on our level alone.”
Jonathan leans forward, and I can practically see the wheels turning in his head. “What if he called another elevator and followed us to our floor? If he hurried, there’s a chance he could have spotted us before we reached the room.”
And then he could have simply let himself in once we left. Hotel locks aren’t a hindrance to a Fox.
“We’re changing rooms after dinner,” Gray says. “And after this job, we’ll request leave and fly to Europe to find a Horse. I’m tired of screwing around with this.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, feeling guilty for all the fuss.
Before Gray can respond, three familiar Squirrels enter the café. Immediately, Thomas spots Gray. He lifts a hand and nods toward the empty table next to ours when the hostess greets him.
“Care if we join you?” Brett asks, and then there’s the chaos of moving tables together and the shuffling of chairs.
Chloe hangs back, looking less than enthusiastic about sitting with us—or maybe more specifically Eric. She eyes the Bunny with great distaste. Ironically, she ends up in the chair next to him when she could have taken the one on the end next to Brett.
She lowers her eyes to the knight’s tight, long-sleeved tee. “I see you exchanged your robe for something more dinner appropriate.”
Eric turns his attention to the tiny Squirrel, his mouth twisted with wry amusement. “Saw the robe, did you? Were you spying on me?”
She bristles and looks at her menu. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m in surveillance—I watch everyone.”
“Oh yeah?” He leans a little closer to her, not about to be ignored this time. “What about Maddie? I bet you don’t remember what she was wearing.”
Chloe’s eyes briefly flicker to me before they return to the menu. “Same thing she’s wearing now.”
Undaunted, he asks, “And what about Sienna? And Sean Luka?”
“Sienna was in a red dress, and Sean Luka had on hideous, high-water silver pants that were far too tight and a navy shirt that he forgot to finish buttoning.”
Of course Eric has no clue if she’s right, so he looks at me for confirmation. I nod, though I’m not sure I agree with her assessment of Sean Luka’s outfit. It was perfection, thank you very much.
“This is a game you’ll lose, dude,” Thomas says with a grin. “Chloe has a crazy eye for detail.”
“And a good memory, apparently,” Eric answers, still watching the Squirrel even though she’s pretending he’s not worth her time. Then he looks across the table at Jonathan. “Did you get a chance to meet Chloe?”
Jonathan studies Eric for half a second, and a smile ghosts across his face. He extends his hand in her direction. “Only briefly.”
She eyes it, instantly suspicious, but choosing not to be rude, she leans forward and gives it a quick shake. “Hi.”
As soon as she looks back at her menu, Jonathan flashes Eric a smirk and a subtle thumbs up.
What are they doing?
Eric raises his eyebrows, apparently pleased, and then places his arm on the back of Chloe’s chair. “Hey, I have a question.”
“I’m sure you have lots of questions, Bunny.” She slowly turns her eyes on him, shoves a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, and gives him a patronizing pat on the arm. “But don’t feel too bad about it. We can’t all be the smart ones—some of us have to be pretty.”
And that definitely was not a compliment.
“I broke my tablet earlier,” he continues, not about to give up. “Dropped it, and now the screen is blurry. Think you could fix it?”
“Most likely, but I’m not going to.”
“Why not?”
She turns to him, snapping her menu shut. “Because I’m here to do a job, not play nice with you.”
Without another word, she stands, flashes her team a scowl, and then walks out of the café. Eric watches her, looking particularly befuddled.
“Chloe doesn’t date,” Thomas explains. “Like, ever.”
Eric rubs his chin and then looks back at Jonathan. “You gave me a thumbs up.”
Jonathan shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you. She’s attracted to you; no doubt about it.”
Oh—sneaky. Jonathan read Chloe’s mind when they shook hands.
Eric takes a long gulp of his tea, sets it on the table with a heavy clink, and hollers to Gray as he follows the Squirrel, “I’ll pay you back. Box my food and bring it to the room, will you?”
Then he’s jogging out the doors, into the crowded casino. It will take a lot of luck to find her. You’d have to be a Hound to follow her trail in that chaos.
Gray shakes his head but offers the waitress a smile when she brings our food. “Can we get a box for the burger?”
Instantly besotted with the handsome Wolf, she nods.
I lean close to Jonathan. “That was a bit underhanded, you know.”
“What?” The Griffon shrugs. “Is it my fault if I happen to be the world’s best wingman?”
He then steals a cucumber off my salad and pops it into his mouth. I jab my fork in his direction. “Get your own dinner.”
Jonathan offers a fry. “Trade?”
“Ew, no,” I say, leaning back. “Do you have any idea how bad those are for you? Nothing but carbs and possibly hydrogenated soybean oil.”
“You sure you don’t want it?” His dark brown eyes meet mine, and he leans closer, dropping his voice to a silken whisper. “Sometimes it’s the things we tell ourselves we can’t have that taste the best.”
“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” I say, glad Gray is engrossed in a conversation with Thomas and Brett about cameras.
Jonathan smirks, and the clear challenge in his expression makes my stomach clench. Without breaking eye contact, I lean forward and bite the fry in half. He blinks at me, his lips parting with surprise.
After I swallow, I lick the salt off my lips and say, “Nope, it’s just a French fry. Maybe it isn’t as tempting as you think it is?”
Jonathan snorts out a laugh. He pops the rest of it into his mouth and turns back to his plate, giving the burger his full attention. “I don’t know about that, sweetheart. It was pretty good for me.”
18
I rub my neck as I walk into our original room. We’re repacking our things and moving to a different area of the hotel—different tower, different floor. And since Gray requested a suite so they can keep a closer eye on me, I’m going to lose my bathroom.
Gray and Jonathan search the room. “Do you see anything, Madeline?” Gray asks as he pulls back the shower curtain. “You should be able to sense a cloaked Fox, even if you can’t see him clearly.”
I look
around the room, but I don’t see or feel anything.
“I think you’re clear,” Gray says, heading back to the guys’ side. “Make it quick—I’m exhausted. Oh, and Thomas just texted to let me know we’re good.”
Gray asked Thomas and Brett to check out the new room, make sure there aren’t any bugs—just in case our culprit is a hotel employee. (Or posing as one.) Thank goodness for friendly Squirrels.
Jonathan takes a seat on the bed, not about to leave me. I give him a smile and step into the bathroom. I’m eager to be out of these rooms. The thought of someone in here still sends shivers down my spine.
I pack my shampoo and conditioner and gather my makeup. When I open the lid of my case, I gasp.
“What is it?” Jonathan asks, immediately appearing at the door.
I motion to the letter and then back away, crossing my arms as if worried it’s going to leap up and bite me.
The Griffon’s expression darkens, and he rips open the envelope. His brow knits when he reads the note, and then he holds up a coupon—like the type that comes from the many magazine-style advertisements that clutter casinos. “A buffet coupon?”
My heart beats harder. “What does the note say?”
“I know where to find them,” he reads slowly. “If you ask me nicely, I’ll tell you where they are.”
My hands begin to tremble, and I stumble against the wall for support.
“What the hell does that mean?” Jonathan demands.
“He was still here earlier,” I whisper. “He must have heard my conversation with Rafe.”
Jonathan’s expression goes from confused to murderous in two seconds flat. “Did you sense him at all?”
I shake my head. “No, but I didn’t come in here. What if he was hiding in the shower? Or behind the drapes or in the closet?”
Jonathan swears under his breath.
“Jonathan,” I whisper, dropping my voice to a bare whisper so Gray won’t overhear from the other room. “He means the thresholds. That’s what I asked Rafe to find.”
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