Page 24 of Shadowed Bond

He starts the engine and glances over at me. “Too late.”

Whispered Thoughts

Charlotte

By the time we reach the nearest hotel, the rain is still coming down in a steady downpour.

The place is small and tucked beside a narrow road with a flickering sign. It is not the sort of hotel an Arden would usually choose, which is precisely why I say nothing about it. At this point, dry walls and hot water are enough to earn my loyalty.

Ares parks near the entrance and gets out without a word, grabbing both our bags from the trunk.

I follow, pulling my damp coat tighter around myself as we cross the car park. Mud clings to my boots, my hair is damp, my outfit is ruined, and Ares looks no better. His jeans are torn where the ladder scraped his leg, the bloodstain still obvious.

The receptionist looks up when we step inside, her eyes running over us both, and a familiar wariness enters them. We probably look as though we have crawled out of a hole, which we pretty much have.

Ares approaches the desk. “Room.”

I close my eyes briefly. What is he, two?

The woman blinks. “Sorry?”

“A room,” he repeats.

“With two beds, or two separate single bedrooms”, I add smoothly, stepping beside him before he can sound any more like an escaped criminal or an uncivilised caveman. “Please.”

Ares glances at me, but I ignore him.

“We have a twin room,” she says. “That’s the only one available.”

“It’ll do,” Ares replies instantly.

I glance at him, and he looks straight ahead, jaw set, shoulders broad and rigid beneath his wet jacket.

The receptionist takes the money he puts down and gives us a key, and tells us our room is upstairs at the end of the corridor. I thank her. Ares makes a noise that could possibly be gratitude, but sounds more like a dishevelled dog wanting to bite someone’s head off.

We head up in silence; it feels awkward. Both of us are very aware that we are about to share a room. One room. Two beds.

It’s perfectly normal on missions, and practical for safety reasons, which is exactly why I refuse to overthink it, and yet I can’t seem to stop thinking.

Ares unlocks the door and steps inside first, flicking on the light. The room is plain but clean, with beige walls, heavy curtains, a small desk, a narrow wardrobe, and two single beds separated by a bedside table.

I stare at the two beds; they’re practically joined, separated by a mere handspan. It’s literally a single room with two tiny beds cramped into it.

“Problem?” he asks.

“No.”

“You looked at the beds.”

“They are quite difficult to miss.”

“There are two.”

“I can count, Westwood.”

“Good. Just checking the Arden education wasn’t all table manners and judging people.”

I turn to him slowly. “Would you like me to demonstrate one of those table manners by politely telling you to shut up?”