Page 132 of Stone Cold Touch

“I really wish I was going in there,” Zayne said, pulling his hands off the steering wheel. “I don’t like you going in there alone.”

“She’s with me.” Roth grinned as he leaned into the window. “She’s not alone.”

“You don’t count.”

It was so past the time for me to get out of the car. I started to open the door, but Zayne caught my hand. “Be careful,” he said.

“I will.” I hesitated, feeling as though I should kiss him goodbye, but I couldn’t with the one-man peanut gallery staring at us.

“How cute.” Roth pushed back from the car, his tone light, but his expression was sharp. “Don’t worry, Stony. She’s in good, capable hands. I think you know just how good and capable, right?”

Zayne drew back, anger flashing across his features. “Yeah, go screw yourself.”

He grinned. “Well, about that—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” I snapped, slamming the door shut. His eyes met mine over the roof of the Impala. “Seriously.”

Roth arched a brow and then wiggled his fingers at Zayne. Turning away, I headed toward the sidewalk. He was beside me in an instant.

“That wasn’t necessary,” I said.

Roth’s shoulders were tense. “Whatever. It’s not what we need to focus on right now.”

“Focusing on that or not isn’t the point.” We crossed the virtually empty street, which was strange considering it was only around eight in the evening. “There’s no reason for you to say stuff like that to him.”

He looked at me as he reached for the door. “There isn’t, Layla?”

For a moment, our gazes locked and it was as though his shields were down. Anger. Disappointment. Yearning. Helplessness. It all came through those amber-colored eyes. And then he turned, motioning me into the lobby. “Let’s get this over with.”

Taking a deep breath at the harshness in his tone, I shook off whatever was going on with him and went in. The hotel was nice and new. Silver ceiling lamps cast light across the main floor, but it was as though the building reached out to us, as if it was seeking comfort and light. The hairs on the back of my neck rose.

I followed Roth to the elevator and we rode it up to the thirteenth floor in silence.

I was all nerves as we stepped into a long hallway. Not just because we were about to be surrounded by a slew of witches of the unfriendly kind. A seedling of hope was burning bright in my chest. Maybe the crone would tell us something that changed what I believed and proved that Zayne was right.

Just as I was about to ask if we had the right place, we turned a corner and a restaurant or club came into view. The windows were tinted bronze, but I could make out several human forms sitting at tables. There was the loopy design above the double doors.

“You ready for this?” Roth asked.

“Sure.”

He looked doubtful as he opened the doors and we stepped inside. The first thing I noticed was how normal everything was. Like totally human normal. We were stopped right in front of a hostess station. Couples sat at tables, laughing and talking. A stocked bar ran along the back, packed with people sitting and standing. Light jazz played from overhead speakers. These people didn’t look as though they’d stepped off the Goth train. I actually blended in.

“What were you expecting?” He chuckled in my ear, and I wondered if I’d spoken out loud or not.

“Not this.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of not judging a book by its cover?” He reached down and took my hand in his and when I got allwhat the Hell is up with that,he tightened his grip. “Like I said, shortie. Don’t judge a book by its cover. I need you to stay close to me.”

A slender woman appeared, her hands clasped together. She wore a simple black dress cut above the knees and her hair was pulled back in an elegant chignon. “I’m sorry. We do reservations only.”

Roth smiled. “How do you know we don’t have reservations?” He glanced over at the hostess station. There was no book. “You don’t know our names.”

“I know you don’t have reservations.” Her chin rose as her cool gaze centered on us. “And I also know what both of you are. So if you want to leave this building without so much bad luck it would make theTitaniclook like a Disney cruise, I suggest you leave before—”

“Rowena,” the man who came up behind her said. “They are expected. Let them through.”

We were? I glanced at Roth, but his expression was unreadable.

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