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An oval tub sat beneath a towering, curved window. Lighted candles adorned the marble surround where an alcove at one end housed a five-foot-tall vase. Beside the sink was a vanity with a wide damask-covered bench.
Indigo peeked into the wall-long mirror. “Yikes!” She rubbed a dry cheek. Travel and the museum had done a number on her skin. She loosened her braid to untangle her hair.
The doorless shower was heavenly. Indigo flipped on the faucets, a fixed rainfall pouring from the ceiling with six body jets spraying from the wall. She stepped in, groaning when warm water sluiced over aching muscles. She shampooed her hair until it was squeaky clean, dousing it with conditioner before rinsing. Unwrapping the fancy soap, she lathered every inch of her sweaty, sunscreen-drenched skin. Travel yuck, along with her exhaustion, rolled down the drain.
After what seemed a delightful eternity, she shut off the faucets. Outside the shower, she snatched a towel to dry her body, wrapping another around her head. Donning the hotel’s thick terrycloth robe, she padded into the bedroom. Having left her iPad in her backpack, she wandered into the sitting area to retrieve it.
Roark’s voice caught her attention. It would be rude to eavesdrop. She’d sit here on the couch to review her notes while he chatted in his room. Not her problem if he was loud.
“Hey, Lort, sorry about kidnapping your boy toy, but I needed a hostess gift to get me in tight with the Firebrands.”
He trod softly across the rug. Maybe he opened a drawer.
“No. Miller Nash was not enough of an offering. Besides, I was sure a good-looking vamp like yourself would have no problem finding a replacement trinket. If you couldn’t, I figured you could grease up and do yourself for a while.”
Indigo leaned nearer the open doorway when Roark paused on his end of the conversation.
“No need to shout. I’m getting closer to the sword. It probably belonged to Alexander, who may have passed it to the Ptolemies. We have a lead we’re following.”
More silence. She leaned closer to the doorway.
“Yes. The sexy little witch is helping me find it.”
The mattress creaked. Roark must have planted his traitorous ass on the bed.
“But she’s wrapped around my pinky among other things. You know how charming I am.”
Silence.
“I’ll do what I have to do. Don’t I always? She’s expendable. Once she no longer amuses me, I’ll carry out Cerberus’s orders.”
The mattress squeaked as he shifted positions.
“A day or a week. I can’t be certain. When I get it, I’ll bring it directly to you.”
Silence.
“I’m not stupid. Of course Cerberus is testing me. Now calm the fuck down before you stroke out.”
The thick carpet muffled his footsteps. Then the shower came on.
Indigo’s breath stuttered. Roark had reported to Arisen Dawn. Though she’d suspected he was a false-hearted bastard, the reality hit harder than expected. She hadn’t trusted him, but she’d wanted to. Hell. She’d even decided to crawl onto his stiffy tonight. Instead, he’d been drawing her into his web like a Darque white-tundra spider, a creature who spun a trap so strong it was known to capture low-flying harpies, lured in by its seductive song.
She’s expendable. Once she no longer amuses me, I’ll carry out Cerberus’s orders.
Hurrying before Roark finished his shower, she dug through her backpack for fresh duds. Scooping dirty clothes off the floor of the bedroom, she crammed them inside the bag. The entire time, she fought tears for the disloyal, lying bastard she’d begun to like despite her misgivings. She donned panties and a bra, tugging a clean skirt up her legs. After she slipped a plain gray T-shirt over her head, she didn’t bother to braid her wet hair. With socks on, she jammed her feet into hiking boots.
With her backpack on her lap, she waited on the couch to confront the two-faced kinda-shifter.
The water shut off. Roark shuffled across the plush carpet of his bedroom. With a towel wrapped around his hips, his rock-hard abs drew her eye. His hair stood in spikes as if dried but not combed while he filled the doorway. His chest was wide with pads of thick muscle and his shoulders broad perfection. Even motionless, he was coiled for action. She reminded herself he was the enemy. Then something inside her shattered. Her heart.
Crazy, stupid witch.
Roark’s lips twisted into a charming but deceiving grin. “Oh, good. Do you want to eat downstairs?” He hesitated as his gaze took her in, sitting back against the cushions, her hands lapped over her backpack. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Who were you talking to?”
“It’s not polite to listen to other people’s conversations, Indy.” He gave her that sexy grin which was meant to suck her in with his charms.
