Page 48 of His to Hunt

That does something to him. I feel it in the way his hand flexes at my back. I also feel it in the way my stomach dips and my thighs suddenly remember how much trouble they’ve already gotten me into.

The woman behind the desk clears her throat. “Some things arrived earlier. If there are any other deliveries, they will be sent to the suite when they arrive. We’ve also arranged for private access to the elevator. Your floor requires a keycard.”

“Good,” Victor answers.

Private access to the elevator. Apparently, I’ve wandered into the part where elevators need security clearance. If goth Taryn could see what magic can actually do, she’d never outgrow it. But I’ve outgrown it all. One spell is enough, thank you.

The woman hands Victor two keycards in a little black folder. “If you need anything at all, please dial zero from the room phone. There is twenty-four-hour concierge service, private dining, laundry, and spa services available.”

Laundry. My poor jeans suddenly feel like they’ve been publicly shamed. But I’ve got several new pairs now, so I think these will end up in the trash instead of a washing machine.

Goodbye to my old life, one hand-me-down at a time.

“Thank you,” Victor says, taking the folder.

The woman looks at me with a smile. “Enjoy your stay, ma’am.”

Ma’am? I turn around to see if there’s a properly dressed woman behind me. There isn’t. Just a bellman with a cart filled with expensive-looking luggage. Are those Victor’s things? If they are, it looks like he’s planning to stay a while. Which means I’m staying a while.

Victor guides me toward the elevators before I can embarrass myself. Once we’re inside, he taps the keycard and presses the top button. The doors close, sealing us into a small, mirrored space.

The second we’re alone, I let out a breath.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Everything is… a lot.”

His gaze moves over my face. “Good a lot or bad a lot?”

“Both, I think,” answering him as honestly as I can.

“Look, it’s okay. Do you believe in karma?” he asks.

“Um, I guess so?” I say, unsure if I’ve really put much thought into it.

“Then maybe bad karma is done with you for a while,” he strokes his hand down my back. “You’ve certainly had enough of it.”

The elevator begins to rise, smooth and quiet. Too quiet. Even the elevator is rich. It doesn’t rattle or jerk or smell like old pennies. It just glides upward like it has too much dignity for gravity.

I catch sight of myself in the mirrored wall and wince. Victor sees that too, and I feel foolish. Jumping at the sight of my own reflection. What’s next? Tripping over my shoelaces or slipping on a banana peel?

“I can feel you thinking something insulting about yourself,” he growls.

“You can feel that?” I squeak. “I wasn’t going to say it, but I guess my mind was doing the work for me.”

“I can’t feel it, exactly, but your scent changes when you let that creep in,” he explains. “I notice it because I’m your mate.”

I look at him and raise a brow. “Does my scent change for other things?”

“Yes,” he rumbles, chuckling under his breath. “Sometimes I can’t smell anything but your arousal. You’ve been aroused a lot today. The fragrance seeps out of your pores.”

I blush and look away. “That’s really not fair.”

“I didn’t say it was fair, but it’s useful,” he purrs.

“For you maybe,” I say, sniffing my arm.

“For you too,” he says. “It means you can’t hide when something hurts you or makes you mad. Or turns you on.”