Page 14 of Traveling with Gentlemen
"I always have your permission," Booker said.
I smiled, tilting my head back to gaze at the shadow of him, and then lifted my arms up. "You do."
Booker took the invitation from me, doing exactly as Auguste suggested and lifting me, cradled in his arms, from the woven chaise. Nothing could make a girl feel light as a feather like the ease with which an enchanted statue might carry her about.
"Are the others—?"
"At home," Booker said, his smile curving with mine as he turned us to the balcony doors.
It took my eyes a moment to adjust as we stepped into the family suite. The main area was a vast room with an eclectic mix of furnishings, thoughtfully arranged to accommodate the whole group of us. Our ridiculously grand bathroom and wardrobe was to the right, and our nest of a bedroom to the left. Booker set me down on my toes as Amon entered from the bedroom.
He was in his sphinx form, padding forward proudly, eyes widening at the sight of me. I ran toward him, eager to dig my fingers into the thick mane around his shoulders, breathe in the warm and rich scent of him, the lingering air of the desert on his feathered wings, but he rose up into his gentlemanly form as I approached. My steps slowed until his smile stretched, eyes crinkling at the corners, and his arms spread open.
I was beginning to suspect Amon held some lingering shyness regarding his sphinx form around me, and I was tempted to ask as much until the doors to the suite opened, and Ezra dragged Jonathon inside.
"My star," Amon murmured.
I slid into his embrace and the desert air was in the strands of his hair, even if his wings were tucked away now.
"How long before you leave again?" I asked, pressing my face into his warm throat, kissing the muscle as his arms tightened around me.
"Ahh good, you caught him in a break," Auguste greeted the others.
"More like he broke my concentration and one of my samples by scaring me half to death," Jonathon muttered.
"A few days, perhaps," Amon murmured in my ear, nipping at the lobe. I sagged against him, and he chuckled. "However, this time—"
"We have news!" Ezra declared.
Amon grunted and turned me to face the room, his arms crossing over my chest and my hands rising to clasp him in place there. As much as I understood the urgency of finding Birsha or at least learning everything we could about him, I was growing weary of Amon leaving and returning for only a few days at a time.
Ezra was flicking in and out of view. He'd been Amon's companion on this most recent trip, the pair of them finding a surprising harmony in their work together. Ezra turned, solidifying and grinning at Amon and I.
"You want to do the honors?" he asked Amon.
Amon shrugged and cleared his throat, but our wicked thief jumped in before he had a chance to speak.
"We've received an invitation to a party," Ezra announced, thick chest puffed with playful pride.
"A party?" Auguste asked, laughing.
"The Countess Sofia Georgievna of…" Ezra trailed off, frowning at Amon for a moment. "I've forgotten already."
Auguste stood from his seat, a dense armchair he often curled up in like a cat, and Jonathon sat down on the arm staring up at our vampire lover. "Not Sofia of Vologda?"
"That's the one!" Ezra said.
Auguste rounded on Amon and I, pale eyes wide. "No."
I stiffened in Amon's arms, but he soothed me with gentle strokes. "I'm afraid so."
"You know her?" I asked Auguste.
Auguste blinked, brow furrowing. "Not…it's…I've had the misfortune of meeting her, ages ago, centuries. It was…common practice at the time to introduce new vampires to her. Most of us are descended from her."
"She holds sway over you?" Amon asked, and this time it was his turn to grow tense around me.
Auguste let out a heavy sigh and sank back into the chair. "No, thankfully."
