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My new Zen state was obliterated when I caught the attention of the desk clerk and asked to visit Mr. Rain in the penthouse. He took one look at my jeans and ponytail and his frown set so deep Grandmere would have warned him a bird might poop on his lip.
“And who are you?” he inquired, condescension dripping from every word. He smelled like a were but not a wolf. There was something weaselly about him in both scent and demeanor.
What to say? That I was Lucas’s date, his soul mate? Dinner?
“My name is Secret McQueen. ”
He rolled his eyes before he picked up the phone next to him and pushed a large red button. The name on his tag said Melvin, and I planned to remember it. Just like I knew he’d remember mine after tonight.
“There is a woman here claiming she’s here to see Mr. Rain. She says her name is Secret McQueen, and—” He listened for a beat and then all the color seeped from his face. “Yes, Mr. Alvarez. My sincerest apologies. Yes, I will be certain everyone at the desk is made aware of that. ” He hung up the phone and angled his head in my direction in a sort of half bow. “Miss McQueen, I apologize for my rudeness. You must understand a great number of women attempt to visit with Mr. Rain without his invitation. ”
“You’re just doing your job, Melvin. I’m sure this will never happen again. ”
“No. Absolutely not. ” He slid a black card across the desk to me. “This is an elevator-access pass. Mr. Alvarez is on his way down to meet you, and he will help you program a code so you can reach the penthouse directly. ”
I wasn’t sure who Mr. Alvarez was, but I took the card from Melvin’s trembling hand. “Thanks. ”
The elevator dinged behind me, and I turned to see Desmond exit through the doors. He was wearing a soft gray sweater and some very well-fitting khaki trousers. His dark hair was a tousled mess, and he did not look pleased to be in the hotel lobby at nine in the evening on a Thursday. Especially not with me.
“Secret,” he said with a nod. So we were on a first-name basis, then.
“Desmond. ”
“I trust Melvin gave you an access card?”
“He did. ”
“And I trust he has made his apologies?” He shot a meaningful look to the man at the counter. Melvin cowered and I couldn’t blame him. Desmond was an intimidating force, even with bedhead.
“Yes, he did. ”
“Good. Follow me. ”
In the elevator he swiped my card and had me enter a four-digit code of my choice. He explained the card was now mine to keep and would grant me direct access to the penthouse floors. I knew he wasn’t thrilled about this, because he also added that my card and code could be canceled at any time.
In the quiet that followed, there was an unmistakable change in the atmosphere of the elevator. Not to say he became more relaxed, or I less wary, but the sensation of unfamiliar tang bursting in my mouth had returned. At first I thought it was because we were getting closer to Lucas, but then it dawned on me that this flavor was altogether different. Instead of the heady cinnamon taste Lucas left in my mouth, I now experienced something brighter, more citrusy.
Lime. It was the puckering flavor of limes, and the only place it could be coming from was Desmond. I didn’t know what to make of it and didn’t know how to ask him what it meant, so instead I changed the subject. “What kind of were is the desk clerk?”
“Ah, you smelled him. ” This seemed to put him in a better mood. “Melvin is a wereferret. ”
I let out a loud, short cough of a laugh. “He’s a werret!”
Desmond found this at least passingly funny, because he chuckled, a low, pleasant sound. “Yes, I suppose that would be one way to put it. ”
We arrived at the penthouse more relaxed than we’d been on the main floor.
“He’s expecting you. ” Desmond nodded to the spiral staircase. He gave me a gentle nudge, and I couldn’t help but notice how his hand lingered on my back a little longer than was necessary. I turned to see if there was any explanation on his face, but he was already walking away.
The subtle burst of lime diminished with his every step.
Was this a werewolf thing, leaving tastes in each other’s mouths? No, that was impossible. I’d been around other weres and never tasted a single one before Lucas passed me on the street last night.
It was more than a little disconcerting. Lucas had told me it was an indication of the soul-bond I shared with him, so why could I taste Desmond? Surely it wasn’t possible to be soul-bonded to two people. And why did I suddenly want a margarita?
It seemed like every moment spent with Lucas and the wolves was going to present me with a dozen new questions.
Chapter Fifteen
