Page 107 of The Monster of Hotel No. 7
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and watch as he studies the motion. “I don’t want to be weak for you,” I finally say, giving him a deeper truth than maybe I should have. Perhaps from my nerves, or the alcohol still in my veins, or maybe the honesty he gave me back in the cab. “I don’t want you to think you have to take care of me.”
He tilts his head, and a single ray of sunlight penetrates the cloud coverage and trees enough to light up the amber in his irises. He is breathtakingly beautiful, but I know if I said that, he would think I’m lying again.
“I like taking care of you,” he finally says, glancing at my shoulder. “Stop trying to be someone you aren’t. I don’t mind the weaker version of you.” He turns away from me, staring at the house. “That one won’t run from me.”
“This looks exactlylike a place that held conventions for serial killers.” I twirl in a circle, staring around at the black and silver in the room, different from the blue-tones of the downtown hotel. There are silver armchairs, silver rugs over black marble floors, chandeliers dripping in silver set among the high ceiling of the first floor.
The lobby is enormous, a double staircase beyond it, leading up and around to heights I can’t see from here.
The scent of an old building locked up for years and the hint of bleach is what greeted us after Sullen managed to pop open one of the doorknobs. It was locked, but pathetically so, as if no one is too interested in keeping all of this secret.
That bothers me. Despite the fact it seems deserted, everything is neat and clean and there is no visible damage to the building’s interior that I can see.
Someone has been checking in, tending to this place. I just don’t know if it’s Stein or Writhe, or someone else.
The door creaks closed at my back and I glance over my shoulder, watching Sullen throw a large deadbolt that wasn’t engaged when we arrived.
Why?Is it abandoned? Forgotten? Or simply so hidden the owners feel comfortable being lax in security? Aside from Treefall, we saw nothing as we walked here along the side of the road. No traffic passed us, either.
Sullen’s eyes lift to mine, his gloved hand still on the lock, and I turn away, my pulse pounding hard for reasons I don’t understand.
Now we are shut in together.
I’m not so sure that makes me any safer.
I turn away from him, then dart over to the long counter that would have been used for checking in. I quickly run my finger over the marble top, the feel of it cold on my skin. Then I raise my hand, glancing at my fingerprint.
“No dust,” I announce, lifting my gaze to Sullen as he stands inside the door, on the silver carpet at the entrance. He says nothing; he’s only studying me in silence, and it unnerves me. I drop my hand and wince, my shoulder throbbing, and I see Sullen’s expression change.
His eyes narrow, a muscle in his jaw jumping. Then he drops our bags—the shopping tote and duffle—before he slowly starts to prowl toward me. And that’s what he looks like; a hunter stalking his prey. But even as he moves so preternaturally, I see the stiffness in his gait, and I know I am not the only one in pain.
The urge to run to him is strong, throw my arms around him, kiss him everywhere. Beg him to let me make him feel better.
But I know he won’t want that.
I drop my gaze from his and turn my back to him, walking around the lobby counter slowly, trying to move as if my heart is not nearly beating its way through my ribcage, anticipating him reaching me.
Golden phones are lined under the lip of the countertop, curly black cords attaching the handsets to the receivers. I’ve never actually seen phones like this, and I smile a little, pressing my fingertips to the counter as I study them. There aren’t wires connecting them to any source of power or phone line though, and that makes me feel marginally better about being here.
“My mother had one of those, on her wing in the Ritual Drive house.” Sullen’s low voice startles me and when I look up, he’s right beside me.
I tense, watching him study the phones. My nostrils flare and I inhale his sensual scent combined with sweat from our walk. I want to lick it off him. I want to throw myself at him.
I bite the inside of my cheek and don’t move.
“I think I tried to order a new father once.” He smiles, but it’s so cold. “Mom was watching me. She didn’t stop me.”
My lower lip trembles and the urge to reach for him grows so much stronger. But again, he recounts these memories with such a flatness in his tone, I know he doesn’t want me to pity him. To touch him.
To combat the desire, I reach for the nearest phone cord instead, curling it around my finger, watching it press into my skin, blanching it white.
“Karia.”
I blink and find him staring down at me.
“We should shower, find a room, and you can let me take care of your shoulder.”
My throat rolls as I swallow. I don’t want him to have to worry about me. “I’m fine.”
