Page 15 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
Damn fair skin! Damn misplaced thoughts! Damn odd reaction!
Within seconds, the beautiful stranger, who seems to be oblivious to my hot and bothered state, turns around. He closes the door behind us. Why do I feel being trapped inside this elevator won’t be a hassle?
Eventually, I force myself to speak as his eyes land on mine again. “Good evening, yourself.”
He nods, offering me a megawatt smile. “What’s your destination, sir?”
Tempted to reply, “Your bed,” I purse my lips to suppress my impulse. “Excuse me?”
He must realize the effect he has on me, unless his expression only betrays how blasé he is. “Which floor?” he clarifies, shooting me another toothy smile. I make a point of staring anywhere but at his plump lips. He looks like a force of nature, and I’d love to see him manhandling me to tame my energy overload.
Under his scrutiny, I chuckle at the ludicrous idea. Well, it’s not totally ludicrous since sex with strangers is my go-to activity whenever I need to unwind. But then again, I like this hotel and I don’t intend to derail my plans because my dick took the lead.Down, boy!I can’t mess with the staff, no matter how mouth-watering they are.
“Sixteenth, please,” I supply in a shaky voice. This is so not like me. Eager to continue this conversation that can hardly be considered one, I rack my brain to find a suitable topic aside from the weather. I’m guessing that every other patron who cared enough to talk to him has already bored him with it.
Following his hand to the old-fashioned button for my floor, I realize that one is missing. Missing button. Missing floor. Like, totally missing!
Mmm, interesting. Guess I should have paid more attention before, but then again…
“The owners are superstitious, huh?” We slowly begin our ascent.
“I beg your pardon.” His eyes are back on me.
What is this stranger doing to me?
“No thirteenth floor.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, Sheena suffers from triskaidekaphobia.”
“Who’s Sheena?” My brow spikes up as he blushes, worrying his plump lower lip. “Tricky what?”
“I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry, TMI.” The subdued light hides nothing from the deepening color in his cheeks. “It’s happened before… When I’m here, I mean. I can’t seem to—” He pauses. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
“Nah, you’re fine.” I wave my hand. For some reason, I feel compelled to wrench him out of his misplaced misery and redirect the conversation. “I’m new here, and you seem quite knowledgeable about this venue. Please, clue me in. Your revelations are safe with me.”
“Sure.” He shakes his head, as if making peace with the idea. “Sheena, the manager, hates number 13. Not sure why… That’s triskaidekaphobia.”
“So the fourteenth floor is actually the thirteenth one?”
“Nope. There is a thirteenth floor. It’s restricted to certain guests because it’s supposedly haunted.” He chuckles, his eyes searching mine for validation or maybe for someone to stop his verbal diarrhea. This is entertaining, although he is awfully talkative and excited for sure. “Fearless ones.” He halts before adding, “Like me.”
What the fuck is he talking about? Plastering a knowing smile on my face, I play along. “Ohhh, so you’re a guest, but you work here anyway, huh?”
“Indeed. This isn’t my regular jam, but both women know me well. They understand I sometimes long for a spark of excitement—to break the… stillness. A pressing matter brought me to the US, so I figured, why not come here and play extra.”
“Hence, you’re on a first name basis with the owner. I get it.”
“You’re quite perceptive for a human. To be honest, the concept of last names is rather foreign to me, so…” He trails off.
This unexpected exchange is getting weirder by the second, but I school my features so my face won’t betray my growing wariness. Instead, I joke, “Because you don’t have a last name yourself.” My words are followed by a chuckle. It’s amazing how this reserved man turned talkative in a matter of seconds. Still, he isn’t making sense. To confirm my assumption, he moves his head, letting his curls float around his gorgeous rugged face while proudly pointing to his name tag. “Zagreus, right?”Riiight… My fascination for the man grows accordingly with his cryptic words. I studied history and mythology to understand the value of the objects I was hired to steal—and handle them with the care they deserved. It was my late father who first sparked my interest in mythology, encouraging my curiosity. I doubt he ever imagined it would be put to this kind of use. “Are you Greek or are your parents into ancient gods?”
“Both, actually.” His eyes spark with glee. He sighs, then grabs something from his jacket pocket and plays with it, sliding it from one finger to the next so fast that it’s almost impossible to figure out what it is.
What prompted his sudden nervousness?
I praise myself for my attention to detail, but this guy makes me lose all common sense. Now that I think about it, he does look Greek… on steroids. And another detail he mentioned strikes me. “For a human…” I trail off, calling him out on his bullshit. Since I set foot in Princedelphia, I’ve heard countless stories about the city that hosts variouscreatureswho belong to secret kingdoms and live among us. Hell, even my client, Volkoff, believes in this fairytale, but I’m a rational man. “Care to elaborate?” I wonder if he’ll humor me.
He opens his appetizing mouth to speak, but the cabin shakes, sending Zagreus towards the back. My throat releases a screeching sound. Maybe this fancy elevator isn’t as safe as I thought… My pulse races as I envision my dead body crushed beneath metal debris.
