Chapter 8
Quinn
When dinner arrived, a single covered plate humming to the top of the dumbwaiter, I was still having trouble shaking the image of Rollick in his full demonic beastliness from my mind. I carried the plate over to the coffee table in the sitting area on autopilot, not able to summon much hunger.
My men had told me he was a demon—a powerful one. But I’d never seen him in anything other than his human guise, which was compelling and sometimes even electrifying but hardly monstrous. Now, there was no denying just how immense a foe he’d be if I defied him.
In physical heft, he wasn’t that much larger or more beastly-looking than Crag’s gargoyle body, which I actually kind of liked now that I was used to it. I wasn’t used to Rollick’s demonic form, though, and I sure as hell didn’t trust him never to tear into me with those jagged teeth and claws or pummel me with those bulging limbs. And the aura of power that emanated off him even when he looked like a man, full of equal parts promise and menace, had amplified to the point that my whole body had shivered with it.
If he was right and the other foes I was up against were as formidable as him—or worse—I couldn’t help thinking that I was totally screwed.
Annoyingly, I wasn’t even totally unnerved by Rollick’s display. I might not trust him, but I was now well aware of how… enjoyable certain monstrous features could be. A small part of my mind couldn’t help speculating about what it’d be like to have a monstrous lover I could trust who came endowed with not just one but two cocks. That image kept swimming up from my memory too, the one jutting out over the other above a single set of balls, both sized to match the rest of his massive frame even when flaccid.
God, how big must they be when erect?
I slapped my hand to my forehead as if I could jostle those unwanted thoughts out of my brain and forced myself to focus on my dinner. I needed to eat and keep my strength up, because who knew if I’d need to go on the run again with no more access to hotel-quality food.
I’d say this for the demon—he had been very conscientious with my meals. Every spread that’d appeared in the dumbwaiter, three times a day, had offered up something mouth-watering but within the realm my doctors would have approved of. Yesterday a delicately flavorful mango sorbet had arrived at just the right timing for me to indulge right after I’d finished my dinner without it being at all melted.
So, the whole being held under captivity experience was ten out of ten for sustenance, which was about all I could recommend about it.
Tonight’s spread included a chicken breast drizzled with nuts and a fruity sauce, with a fresh-baked whole-grain roll and a pear and spinach salad on the side. Plus another bottle of sparkling water, since Rollick seemed to feel I shouldn’t be reduced to drinking from the tap with my meals even if I couldn’t partake of his preferred beverages.
There was also, poised on the edge of the plate as if it didn’t totally belong there, what it took me a moment to realize was an apple carved with deft precision into an ornately petaled rose.
My chest hitched with a pang of sudden affection. I recognized Lance’s work immediately. He mustn’t have had a chance to come right up to see me, but he’d stolen a moment to show he was thinking of me and to sneak this little present in with my meal.
I picked up the carved apple, cupping it between my hands. I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to eat it—but then, I probably shouldn’t leave it lying around, because I doubted Rollick would approve.
For a second, tears pricked at my eyes. God, how I missed the dragon shifter’s sly warmth and playful energy. I could just imagine spending hours in here telling him about all my adventures around Florida and explaining the parts of human life he didn’t totally understand, finding out more about his life before he’d crashed into mine, challenging him to an impromptu sparring session… and of course all the other fun we could have been having together, alone or with the other two men.
He didn’t seem to take much very seriously—other than my protection. It’d have been so much easier not to let my worries consume me with him around.
I swallowed thickly and made myself bite into the apple. Mouthful by mouthful, I swallowed it down. Closing my eyes, I savored the sweetness and the texture of the carved petals and imagined telling him how much I’d appreciated the little gift when I did get to see him again.
However long that took.
When I set the core aside, I considered the rest of my dinner. My gaze caught on the knife at the right side of the plate. With past dishes, I’d only ever received a dinner knife. This one was a steak knife—for greater ease of cutting the chicken breast, I assumed. The serrated edges gleamed under the room’s artificial lights.
I picked it up and cut into the chicken. The meat parted with only a light pressure, as if I were slicing through butter. Of course, the hotel restaurant wouldn’t want to give its guests ineffectual cutlery.
How convenient that it could also be a weapon.
I ate the rest of the food mechanically, only paying enough attention to note that it was as delicious as always but not taking much enjoyment out of the fact. A different memory was replaying in my mind now—the moment when I’d first fled from Rollick after he’d come to collect me from the other men. When I’d stabbed him in the side with the silver-and-iron blade I’d grabbed from the sorcerers’ house, buying me a chance to escape despite his strength and supernatural prowess. I’d seen the small mark of a scar I assumed was from that wound on his side today.
This knife would be stainless steel, of course. No way would a shadowkind keep literal silverware around. The men had said that the iron in steel didn’t affect them the same way as the pure metal because of the different composition.
But shadowkind could still take regular physical injuries. It’d been the beast’s claws, not any kind of magic, that’d torn up Crag’s wing. A blade like this could make the difference between freedom and imprisonment, or even life and death if push came to shove.
The kitchen staff wouldn’t bother the hotel owner about it if a knife didn’t happen to return from his rooms, right? They’d assume it’d been misplaced and would be sent back when it was discovered. Not worth hassling the man in charge when they’d have plenty of other knives to work with.
The decision to hang on to it sent my mind spinning off in other related directions. After I’d finished eating, I got up, keeping the knife in my hand, and prowled around the room examining every object and fixture in it with fresh eyes.
I stopped by the empty fireplace, eyeing the ornate mantle clock perched there. The arched case looked like mahogany, and the numbers on the face were printed with aged ink, but the needle-like hands glinted with a silver sheen.
It looked old and fancy. The makers wouldn’t have used steel for a display piece like that, would they? I could just see Rollick taking a perverse delight in having a tiny bit of the noxious metal in his rooms, like showing off to any other shadowkind he allowed to come up here that he was impervious to it.
And probably it didn’t bother him at all with such small pieces tucked away behind the glass face. But if someone stabbed one of those pointy bits into, say, his eye or his throat, he wouldn’t be laughing about that.
With a rush of resolve, I grabbed the clock and went to retrieve my multi-tool from the pocket it’d been relegated to in my messenger bag, since I hadn’t had much use for it here. I stuffed the steak knife into the same pocket and got down to work.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I found the glass face popped open on a hinge. All I needed to do was unscrew the pin that held the hands in place and then tug the minute hand right off. Since it was longer, I figured it’d be a bit more useful.
Of course, Rollick might very well notice that his clock no longer had a minute hand. Then again, how much did a demon care about the time? The clock was just a decoration, one he’d seen thousands of times. There was a decent chance that one small change wouldn’t actually catch his attention, at least not for a little while.
And if he did realize it was missing, well, he hadn’t ordered me not to take steps to protect myself. I could claim that I’d repurposed it as a weapon against powerful shadowkind other than him. I mean, I’d happily stab any of the other monsters that wanted to capture me too, so that wouldn’t even be a lie.
This two-inch long sliver of silver wasn’t going to do me much good on its own, though. I pondered my options and after some experimentation determined that I could actually fit the hand into the lead end of one of my mechanical pencils. I adjusted it so it was half in, half out, figuring that was the most stable position that still allowed for a fair bit of stabbing length.
I stood up and was contemplating how best to keep my makeshift weapon on me where I’d be able to grab it quickly and effectively when a sudden warmth wafted over my skin with the materializing of a body right behind me.
“What an impressive contraption,” Rollick said, peering over my shoulder, his chin nearly grazing my hair. “Were you planning on jabbing it into me?”
He arrived so suddenly and with such horrible timing that I couldn’t restrain a yelp. I practically jumped right out of my skin. My fingers twitched, and I had to fumble to avoid dropping the pencil-turned-dagger on the floor.
I whirled around, my heart hammering at my ribs, holding the weapon down by my thigh even though a significant part of me wanted to jab it into the demon right now. When I’d already lost the element of surprise, I wasn’t going to get anything out of the attempt other than wrecking our deal surprise.
“How long have you been spying on me?” I demanded, my entire body rigid. Had he seen me tuck the steak knife away in my bag when I’d first come into the bedroom?
Rollick gave me an amused look. It was deeply disconcerting seeing his movie-star handsome face with my recollection of his demonic form overlaid on it. “I don’t think it’s ‘spying’ simply to walk into a room in my own suite. The door was even open.”
Damn it. I’d assumed the fact that he hadn’t joined me for dinner meant that he wasn’t going to show up anytime soon. It sounded like he’d presented himself pretty much as soon as he’d arrived, though, which at least meant he shouldn’t have realized about the knife. And I still had my excuse for the weapon he had noticed.
“I’m sorry about your clock,” I said. “I didn’t figure you needed it as much as I needed a weapon against potential shadowkind attackers.” I allowed myself to raise the makeshift blade, eyeing it with a trickle of embarrassed anticipation. “It is silver, isn’t it?”
Rollick chuckled. “Of course you would find the one bit of the stuff in the entire suite. Are you that uncertain of my protective abilities? I promise, none of the idiots searching for you will find you here—as long as you don’t tell anyone where you are. Which I’ve made sure you can’t.”
He didn’t sound as if he was particularly worried that I had intended to use the silver against him, which didn’t relieve me as much as it should have. Maybe he simply knew it wouldn’t have done much anyway.
“Torrent and the others thought we were safe lots of other times when it turned out we weren’t,” I said quickly, shoving the weapon into my shorts pocket. “It seems smarter to be prepared for the worst. I don’t suppose you’ve found out anything more about the shadowkind that are after me?”
“That’s not for you to worry about,” Rollick said breezily. “If you can contribute to our investigative efforts in any way, I’ll let you know. You need to focus on getting control of your sorcery.”
I grimaced at him. “We already talked about that.”
“And I was hoping you’d reconsidered.” He sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “But maybe you need additional motivation—thinking of all the people you might want to protect. I got word this morning about some activity in your home city that made me concerned your stalkers may be identifying your usual haunts.”
I stiffened all over again. “In Jacksonville? You mean like my house?”
“I’ve averted potential catastrophe.” The demon flicked at his screen and then held it toward me. “Your parents will be perfectly safe for the next several days under my roof.”
It took me a few seconds to process what I was seeing. The photo Rollick was showing me was of my parents: Mom with her fancy camera hanging around her neck in full tourist mode, Dad with the dorky headgear he called his “safari hat.” They were standing at a gleaming black reception counter, a logo showing on the wall behind them in vibrant red: Sunshine Sin Hotel.
“You brought them here?” I said, my insides recoiling from the idea.
“It was safer than leaving them in Jacksonville,” Rollick said without the least sign that it’d occurred to him I might object. “I arranged for them to ‘win’ an all-expenses-paid trip here. They’ll have a wonderful time.”
He grinned at me, but the shiny white teeth only brought back the visual of the jagged tips I’d seen this morning. I swallowed thickly.
The demon was acting like he’d invited my parents here out of the goodness of his heart to keep them safe for my benefit. But I wasn’t an idiot. The implicit threat was clear.
I hadn’t made him promise to do no harm to my family. It hadn’t occurred to me in the moment we’d made the deal that my parents would factor into the situation. Now they were under his roof, under his control…
If I continued resisting, even if I technically met the terms of our deal, there was nothing to stop him from exerting pressure to get what he wanted in other ways.
Like seeing that my parents met some unfortunate accidents.
“Thank you,” I said roughly, since it seemed wiser to play along rather than to make the threat that much more concrete. “I’m glad they’ll be okay. I guess I can’t see them while they’re here.”
“Not in person. As far as they know, you’re still in Florida.”
“Right.” I inhaled slowly and raised my chin. “Okay. Fine. Tell me how you want me to try out this sorcerer stuff, and we’ll see how it goes.”