Licking her finger, she turns the yellowed page and continues to ignore us.
Celine pulls a wad of cash out of her pocket, tapping her foot silently on the floor as she waits for the employee to acknowledge us.
I don’t have the patience.
Forcing a smile onto Luca’s face, I knock on the counter. The book shudders, and several pages turn on their own as the woman’s head snaps up, her casual indifference replaced with fury. Perhaps I used too much force, but what’s done is done.
When her gaze reaches my face, her scowl flips into a grin. “Oh my,” she cackles. “How can I help you, sir?”
“We need a room,” Celine says. She’s still smiling, but her jaw is tight.
“No hourly rentals here.” The woman points to a sign on the corner of the desk and gives me a pointed look.
“Good to know,” Celine says breezily, wrapping her arm around my waist. “But an hour won’t be nearly enough time for what I have in mind.” Her voice is pure sex, and my brain short-circuits. It’s all I can do to keepLuca’s face in place.
“A room with two queens will run you about?—”
Celine laughs, and her grip on my waist tightens. “Do you see my boyfriend? We’ll need one with a king.”
The woman’s mouth drops open, mostly closes, then settles into a pinched circle. She bears an uncanny resemblance to a fish, and when the chains on her glasses shudder ominously, it’s clear she’s spoiling for a fight.
After the day we’ve had, I’m terrified Celine will give her one. I kiss her cheek and beam at the hag. “Make sure it’s sturdy,” I tell her, hoping she has a shred of sense and lets this go.
She huffs and takes Celine’s money, slapping the key card down on the counter.
“Enjoy your stay,” she croons.
“Enjoy your book.”
I grab Celine’s hand and tug her out the door.
Five minutes later, we’re climbing a stained concrete staircase and sliding the key card into the slot attached to the corner room. Four green lights flash above the knob, and the lock disengages. Relieved, I push the door open, only dropping my guard after it closes behind us.
The room is shabby, but cleaner than I expected.
Celine tosses her backpack onto the bed, and her wings shoot from her back. “The fucking nerve of that woman,” she hisses.
I place both bags of food on the small table beside the boxy television. “I don’t think I understood the subtext,” I admit. “What was that about?”
Celine’s hands ball into fists. “She called me a whore, Riven.”
I drop Luca’s face, not willing to have this or any other conversation with her as someone else. Her wings are smoking—she’s furious—but the wet sheen in her eyes is much worse.
I shift again, choosing the lanky cop’s form, and stride for the door.
“Where are you going?” Celinedemands.
“To kill her.” I glance over my shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”
Before I can reach the door, she’s on me, gripping my shoulders with both hands. “Change back,” she snaps. “Not to Luca, Ciprian, or anyone else. I want to see you.”
I do as she asks. “It won’t take long, I promise?—”
Her lips crash against mine, and I taste her fury. Scorching and impossible to resist. This is bad for me, but I don’t care about that anymore. How can I while she’s stealing the air from my lungs and kissing me like she doesn’t care if I have a face of my own or not?
“You can’t kill her,” she whispers.
I drag my lips along the curve of her neck and shrug. “If you say so, darling.”