Page 10 of Fangs for the Memories
“Are you staying here? Or do I need to call you a taxi?”
“M’staying here,” she mumbles, looking at the empty glass on the counter before going back to her purse.
I spot a large key.
“Then let me help you to your room.”
She laughs, but this time it’s much harsher. “Oh, you think I’ve not heard that one before?” She pats me on my chest. “Try another, buddy.”
“My name is not buddy, it’s Ferenc. Ferenc Kóbor.”
I haven’t let go of her elbow. Her unsteady gaze is on mine once again.
“I won’t hurt you, I promise,” I say.
“Well then, Ferenc.” She pronounces my name flawlessly down to the ’ts’ at the end. “I can make my own way to my room, but you are welcome to escort me to the elevator.”
The way she says it, all British and imperious, makes me smile without even meaning to.
“Although, if you are going to continue to look as if you’re going to eat me, I may well rethink my invitation,” she says, pushing away from the bar but not attempting to remove herself from my grip.
“I won’t eat you,” I respond. “As long as I know your name.”
She gives me a sharp, focussed look, at odds with her faltering steps.
“It’s…Grace,” she replies.
“Grace?”
“Just Grace. That’s all you get for tonight.”
I make sure she doesn’t fall, indicating to the barman to put the wine she’s been drinking on my account, and gently help her through the lobby to the elevator, ensuring she is kept from any prying eyes.
I press the button as she leans gently against me.
“You smell good,” she says. I feel her body slipping, and without a word, I gently tip her into my arms as the doors open, and I step inside. “What are you doing?” she adds without any real concern.
“I’m carrying you before you fall down. Which floor?”
“Top. I’m in the…” She flaps a hand weakly. “Something suite? Someone’s name, I think?”
“Maximilian Schell?”
“That’s the one. You’re good at this.” She sighs.
“At what?”
“Finding broken butterflies to mend,” she responds.
“I didn’t know you were broken, but I will track down whoever broke you and kill them.” I growl.
She says nothing, her eyes closed, long eyelashes sweeping her cheeks which are speckled with little brown dots. Her breath comes in long, slow sighs.
What have I got myself into?
At the door to her suite, I juggle her into one arm while I go through her purse to extract the key. She’s as light as a feather, but then all humans are to me.
Inside, the huge suite seems far too large for this one tiny slip of a female, but from the scent in the room, she is clearly the only one staying here. I take her over to the bed and place her on it, sitting next to her to take off her boots before slipping her under the covers.
