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“See. Good things come in small packages, especially if you eat ’em all at once.”
Taking a seat, I tucked into the sandwiches. We had a few hours until morning, when the management would have to open the doors. As soon as we were able to freely walk about the hotel again, we could begin recruiting some of the guests and dig deeper into the Stephanie Hotel’s new vampire management.
The snick of the lock jolted me awake.
Ding-dong! “Good morning, guests. Please note the storm is still in full swing. We highly recommend you remain in the hotel for your own safety. Breakfast is about to be served in the restaurant.”
“Ooh, breakfast.” Zee was already up, towel-drying his hair while he walked around the room. He was shirtless, wings out and dusting glitter that vanished when it hit the floor, and looking effortlessly delicious in low-slung pants, especially to my sleep-addled brain. I admired him from my pillow . . . how his hips swayed, and his tail lazily flip-flopped. Watching him meant I didn’t have to think about the day ahead, but also, Zee was always worth watching.
Victor emerged from the bathroom, quick fingers buttoning his perfect shirt. His belt hung open, but he set that right pretty fast too, marching toward the door as though about to give the hotel management a proper talking to.
“I am going to investigate the restaurant and keep an eye on Larimer. Join me for breakfast when you’re ready, Adam.” And with that, he left.
I sat up and draped my wrists over my knees. Zee looked over, his towel-drying paused.
“That was abrupt,” I said.
“He doesn’t like being shut in. I tried to help ease some of that daddy tension, but I dunno if I helped. I mean, I sensed he enjoyed it, but there’s a lot going on in that handsome ancient head.” Zee tossed the towel over the back of a chair, parked his ass on the end of the bed, and grabbed my feet under the blanket, like he did sometimes when he needed to think. “He knows when I say I hate suckers I don’t mean him, right?”
“For sure. But do you think he’s angry the bad guys are vampires?” I asked. “Again.”
“Probably. Can’t be easy knowing your whole race are murdering assholes . . .” Zee trailed off as he saw my face. “Ah, yeah, right. I guess you know what that’s like.”
“Yeah. It gets exhausting.” Yawning, I ruffled my hair and rubbed the weariness from my face. We’d talked more ideas around and around last night, but without being able to leave our room we hadn’t made much progress, and after being locked in we’d all been too on-edge to indulge in each other. “We’d better go down for breakfast.”
“I got Daddy Vampire.” Zee got to his feet and grabbed a shirt from over the back of a chair, but he only managed three buttons before getting bored and abandoning the others. He’d have looked good dressed in a trash bag and crocs. “Meet us there when you’re ready.”
“You sure?”
“Pfft. I am a pro at melting emotional walls of ice like the one Fancy Fangs puts up to keep everyone at arm’s length. I have definitely got this.”
“Okay, Zee.” I flung the sheets off my legs, then added with a grin, “Hey, keep him out of trouble.”
Zee saluted, vanished his wings, and headed out of the room, clicking the door closed behind him. He would keep Victor safe. Despite their bickering, name slinging, verbal abuse, endless teasing, disagreements, and occasional off-the-charts sexual tension, they made a great team.
I showered fast, and had a go at controlling my bouncy hair with Zee’s weird hair wax, but somehow I glued myself to a towel. Once free, I pulled on a faded yellow T-shirt and jeans and was about to head out when a soft knock sounded at the door.
Zee wouldn’t knock, he’d just poof in, and Victor’s knock consisted of three perfect knuckle raps, each equally timed.
This knock belonged to someone else.
Standing on my tiptoes, I peeked through the peephole but found it blacked out. Huh.
The handle dipped. The door inched inward.
Someone was coming in.
I hopped behind the opening door and plastered my back against the wall. I probably should have said something like hello. Not everyone was a murderer. Maybe it was housekeeping?
Fabric rustled, and a hulking figure ventured into the room step by shuffling step.
Housekeeping probably didn’t carry an axe . . . but this person did.
Oh, okay then.
Maybe there was a perfectly good reason to enter guests’ rooms with an axe?
Their fingers flexed on the thick leather-wrapped handle, but the hood of their sweater hid their head, obscuring their facial features. Maybe I could rush them, take them down . . . but that would mean more attention on us, and as I was supposed to be human, again . . . What would a human do?
