Page 62 of Marked by the Demigod

Trixie nods at her, the corner of her eyes crinkling in a smidgen of worry, and she also pulls out her phone, to signal that she'll make sure to keep in contact.

The man signals for his check, so Aimes bustles out, holding her purse close to her like a shield.

TALL MAN (4:32 PM): Go to the bathroom, go into a stall.

It's Vegas, and they put bathrooms every few steps, so she ducks into the nearest.

A girl sits on one of the sinks, perched over it, applying individual lashes to her lash line, wearing garishly orange lipstick. She doesn't even blink when Aimes comes rushing in and into one of the stalls.

There's a beat, a moment for her to look at her shoes and wonder if she's going crazy in the cool artificial air and --

A grip on her arm, not even time to twist and look at him, before she's immediately in the hotel room.

She stumbles, because she was just transported somewhere, but Iakov steps away from her instead of steadying her.

He looks at her, eyes cool, for a few too many seconds.

"Who was he?" Aimes blurts out, rubbing her arms.

Iakov doesn't answer, instead striding across the room, tracing his finger along the doorframe.

It's not quite an idle action, too purposeful for that, but his eyes seem unfocused from the task.

"Is everything okay?" Aimes asks, picking up her librarian cardigan from her bed and shrugging it on.

He raises an eyebrow, the stoops and traces his hand across the bottom of her door. "I'm glad you enjoy the necklace, but maybe don't wear it in fucking Vegas?"

She touches the necklace, unconscious, then snatches her hand away. "How was I supposed to know it did anything?"

He looks at her, sharp and uncomprehending, before his shoulders loosen with a snap. "Right. You don't know things." He cracks his neck, and it's such a quick movement it’s intentional. "I've just warded your door, so no one who bears you or your friend ill will can get in." He glances at the windows, then shrugs.

She sits on the bed, as if she’s a small child who just failed another class. "So the necklace was from you?" She asks, her voice much quieter than she would want it to be.

He gives her such an uncomprehending look she wants to shrink away. "Who else would it be from?"

“I found it on luggage I haven't used in a while, so I didn't know." She bites back, the hairs on the back of her neck rising.

His eyebrow furrows, then clears. "I thought that leaving jewelry on the dresser would be bad form?" He's still standing far away and it feels like a huge gaping chasm between them.

She sighs, looking anywhere but at him. "I'm just confused, I thought you didn't want me to have your phone number."

"I don't," he says, sitting down heavy next to her. "I don't want anyone to use you to contact me, and that," he pauses, heavy, "and that was what was gonna happen at the bar." He leans in close, then wrinkles his nose. "You smell like pineapples?"

The switch makes her head hurt. "It was a hookah bar and I didn't know I had your number then!"

"He wouldn't have had you call me, he would've tortured you until I showed," he says, flat. "I figured you wouldn't like that."

It's silent, for a few moments, with the soft hush of circulated air.

Despite the skirting around, despite Dave's worry and Katya's stress, his words are thunderous.

"Torture, really?" She asks, not looking at him but at his knees, folded up in a pristine suit. "Isn't that a bit medieval?"

He shifts, and his hand touches her back, gentle. "We're Russian, we're not able to get past that stage." His voice dips low, the accent strong. "I've done...preliminary things to hide you, I've made Los Angeles more difficult to track people in, your apartment is a no go for anyone stronger than a wisp. I'm not just...leaving you out to dry."

She scowls up at him, but he flinches away from her scowl so fast she softens it. "Katya says you have no one to fear."

He rubs the hand up and down her back. "She's a know-it-all government official who wants to know everything about everyone." He grumbles, but it's in good cheer. "Your friend's coming back, try not to wear the necklace out of Los Angeles." He leans in close, as if to kiss her.

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