The Seer Page 4

Her irritation spiked. “Well, you didn’t have to come with.”

  His expression turned disappointed and his attention was directed back out the window. “You know that’s not true. I’m in this as much as you are.”

  “No. You can walk anytime you want. There’s no place where I can ditch the stream of information getting fed to my brain.”

  “I cannot walk at anytime.”

  She chanced a glance at him. His mouth was set in a troubled line. “I’ve insulted you.”

  He raised a brow, like ya think? But his reaction set her mind on a path. It was frustrating, not receiving information about him. She didn’t always get critical reads. Often it was tidbits dropped in a conversation. Like when Calli had first arrived at the compound. Isabelle had known the female would have to sneak out and had given her clues to figure it out. But then Calli hadn’t connected the advice to action, so Isabelle had texted her enough to prompt her to crawl through the ductwork. It had risked Isabelle’s own escape route, but it had been a turning point for Calli.

  With Scurn…she couldn’t figure him out. He hadn’t mentioned the kiss. Was it forgettable for him?

  With him in the vehicle, she couldn’t think straight about their lips locking. Back to how he was offended.

  What would he do if he weren’t watching her? He was a warrior, but she doubted he’d work for Demetrius or his team. It smacked too much of what had led him to her.

  Had he any other skills? No. He came from generations of warriors who’d served the council.

  Was he…was he with her after all this time because he had nothing else to do?

  Her heart constricted. She braved taking a hand off the wheel to rub her chest. If he had other options, would he seize them?

  Of course he would. Standing outside her door for years wasn’t a life.

  “What’s wrong?” Scurn’s voice cut in. “Do you need to stop driving?”

  She shook her head and found another curb to park along. This conversation was too serious for her to concentrate on the road. And dawn was approaching. Even if they found the girl, they wouldn’t have time to discuss the dangers and options with the family. And the problem was that Isabelle didn’t know what the options were. Find a warrior to post outside her door for the rest of her life?

  She flipped the gearshift to park and turned to Scurn again, much preferring how close they were in the car than when they were talking in the corridor at the compound.

  “You’re not stuck with me anymore. The Synod has shown themselves to be cognizant of the people’s best wishes. They don’t know about my abilities. I’m safer than I’ve ever been.”

  A crease formed across his brow and his lips were back in their troubled line. “You aren’t safe. None of us are. All it takes is the wrong person figuring out what you can do. Calli guessed it.”

  “I’m surrounded in the compound.” She rested her hand on Scurn’s. Her ivory skin was stark against his big, swarthy hand. “You aren’t beholden to me. Don’t you want a life?”

  “I gave an oath to your father.”

  “Your oath was to me. I ask again, don’t you want a life?”

  All of their long talks and they’d never broached this topic. She’d instinctively known that he wasn’t ready. But he was out in the world, following her around, gazing out the window like he wanted nothing more than to go tourist on Freemont’s streets. It was time.

  “My life is serving you.” An emotion flickered in his eyes, and she didn’t need a reading to know that this required tough love. He couldn’t waste the time he had left staring at the wall or playing strategy games on his phone.

  “Your life is yours, Scurn. You’re fired.” She sucked in a breath as soon as she said it but didn’t remove her hand. She squeezed him instead and had to blink rapidly. Were those tears?

  She lifted her other hand to wipe them away. It was shaking.

  She dropped it and met his stark gaze. “You don’t want me around?” he asked.

  “That’s the last thing I meant.” Her voice cracked and she sniffled.

  He was leaning over the seat in an instant, his hands cupping her face. “Then why?”

  He was blurry, her tears were so thick. “Because I want to be equals. I don’t want to be your charge. I don’t want you to have to call my brother and jump around my parents.” Her words had never been so heartfelt. She wanted more. More out of her life and more out of the people around her.

  Withdrawing his hands, he sat back.

  “Why’d you leave?” He’d know what she meant.

  “I can’t allow another kiss to happen.”

  A frustrated snarl left her. “You let it happen before. Because we both wanted it.”

  “You are not mine to—”

  She couldn’t stop her tears, but now they were laced with anger. “I can make my own decisions about who I kiss. If you don’t want to kiss me, just say so, or do so, but don’t use me as an excuse not to.”

  In a blink, his lips were on hers, demanding. She hadn’t sensed his movement. He left her mouth only to kiss her tears away. She gripped his shirt, but as soon as he captured her mouth again, she slid her hands to his head.

  Warm and smooth. Solid, just like him.

  She tentatively licked along the seam of his mouth. His answering growl made her feel powerful. When his tongue stroked hers, she whimpered. He was so…so…male. The cab of the car grew stifling.

  He pulled back, still cupping her face. “I want to kiss you, but I want it to be right between us.” He glanced out the window. “Dawn approaches. It’s your call on what we do, but I’m staying with you as long as you want me.”

  “I want you.” Those three words echoed with a deeper meaning than just having him in the car. The way desire flared in his eyes, she wasn’t alone.

  “We drive around more, then we check into a hotel and search more at daylight.”

  Excitement surged through her and she grinned. “I’ve never done that.”

  “I have that card thing Demetrius gave me for emergencies. It’s supposed to pay for stuff.”

  “Perfect.” She eased the car back on the road and snuck another look at him. One corner of his mouth was lifted. “Perfect.”

  “How many questions are you going to ask?” Scurn growled. The human kid behind the counter at the chain motel didn’t look like he should be out of diapers. Fear flickered in the boy’s eyes.

  Coming here had been Isabelle’s idea. She was certain he just walked to the desk and claimed he wanted a room and the person behind the counter would take care of the rest. But he’d had to leave his weapons in the car.

  He eyed the clerk who was shifting from foot to foot. “Just get on with it.” But for darkness’s sake, no more questions.

  Isabelle’s purrs of delight behind him kept Scurn’s blood at a simmer. Her noises went straight to his cock and he wasn’t used to thinking of her in sexual terms, but suddenly it was the only way he could think about her.

  “I just need the card, dude.”

  Scurn tossed it on the counter. The boy’s gaze lifted to where Isabelle was bent with her nose pressed against the four-foot aquarium. Appreciation lit his eyes.

  Scurn rapped his knuckles on the desk. The kid started but grabbed the card, dropped it, then picked it up. Clearing his throat, he ran it through a small machine, waited too damn long, then said, “Okay. Well, since we have an empty room and you’re checking out this evening, we’ll charge you for just one night.”

  Grabbing his card, Scurn bit back a “whatever” and tucked it back into his pocket. The kid flipped a sheet of paper in front of him and a pen.

  “Sign at the bottom, please.”

  Scurn scrawled his name. The clerk’s eyes flared at the elaborate fancy script. Had handwriting changed that much, too?

  “Here’s your key. Room 212. You can park by door E and take the elevator.”

  “How is that a key?” The boy held another card that looked similar to the one Scurn had just paid
with.

  The clerk’s eyes dropped to the card and rose back to Scurn. “Um…you just wave it in front of the lock on the door.”

  “And what, do a little jig?” Years of repression were apparently getting aimed at the clerk, along with his nerves. He was spending the night with Isabelle on equal terms, whatever that meant.

  “Yeah, man,” the clerk said drily. “Spin three times and shake your booty.”

  Scurn almost threw the card back. He wasn’t shaking his boots anywhere. This fascinating world was starting to piss him off. Had he lost his touch so badly that a human youth wasn’t intimidated for long?

  The kid must’ve read the panic in his eyes. “Nah, you’ll hear a click and that means the door’s unlocked.”

  Peering at the card, he thought of his phone. If he could work that infuriating device, he could master this key. “Thank you.” He was driven by the need to soften his presence to keep unwanted attention from getting drawn to them. “We don’t get out much.”

  “You don’t say.”

  Scurn’s mouth quirked. Humans.

  The clerk pointed to the left. “Door E is around the corner. You’ll need the key to get into that door, too.”

  Nodding his appreciation, Scurn collected Isabelle. She smiled and waved at the clerk. The kid returned the wave with a lopsided smile.

  “Isn’t this exciting?” Isabelle whispered. “A real hotel. Have you ever stayed in one before?”

  “No. Never.” Freemont had had a few back in the day. They’d also had threadbare curtains that would’ve let in enough light to ash them in their sleep.

  They found the proper door, and the “key” worked exactly as the boy had said. When they were settled in their room, Isabelle flitted from bed to bed and oohed over the bathroom. Scurn yanked the bedspread off of the bed closest to the window and hooked it over the curtain rod to capture any rays that might sneak through any cracks. He’d take the bed missing a comforter. That way he’d be closer to the sun and Isabelle could have the bed covered by more shadows.

  He swallowed hard as he eyed the room. His gaze strayed to the door.

  Isabelle breezed out of the bathroom, her stocking hat in her hands, and stopped. “You want to go stand in the hallway.”

  “It seems more appropriate.”

  “More comfortable?”

  He shrugged. Both.

  She’d untucked her shirt. It covered her bottom but did nothing to hide the ripe curves of her body.

  He ripped his gaze off her. The TV was half the size of one of the beds. Either TVs had gotten larger or beds had gotten smaller. Isabelle had always had a television since they’d become available. It helped with her isolation, but hers had never had that much square footage.

  There was a desk in the corner with a chair that looked like he’d rather stand in the hallway all day. With their heightened vision, he needn’t bother with the dim lamps. They cast as much light as a lone candle.

  “Scurn.” Isabelle crossed her arms. “Where are you going to sleep?”

  He pointed to the bed that had nothing but a thin blanket and sheets. Inclining his head to the more welcoming bed, he said, “That one is yours.”

  A flicker of disappointment passed through her gaze. He didn’t know about this new development between them, but he had zero plans to take advantage of her—not any more than he already had. He should feel guiltier about the kisses, but they were too precious to regret.

  “I’m going to text Demetrius to let him know we’re staying in town.” When her eyes narrowed, he rushed on. “We’ve never spent a day away. He’ll worry and send people looking. All I’m saying is that your business isn’t done yet.”

  Relief took over her expression. “My thanks. I would do it, but I left my phone in my room.”

  “You didn’t want him to track you?”

  “Forgot it.”

  When she was around him, he could forget how scatterbrained she was. She wasn’t confused or forgetful around him. All her channels were wrapped up in receiving and interpreting signals. How was it that he was her dead zone?

  One more glance around the room to confirm that yes, they were doing this: spending the night in a room away from everyone. So much more intimate than sleeping on the floor in the corridor outside her apartment.

  “Excuse me.” He scooted around her to use the facilities. How thoughtful, the hotel had provided shampoo and conditioner. Lotion. No razor, but he sometimes went without shaving, letting stubble fill in on his scalp and face. Not having to deal with hair of any kind made standing post easier. His hair was so bushy and unruly that he would look like a mountain man in a month if he didn’t shear himself regularly.

  The second time he washed his hands, he admonished himself for hiding. But they were safe and Isabelle was in the next room—not across the hall.

  He stripped down and ran through the shower. Demetrius had installed a bathroom just for him by Isabelle’s place, but Scurn had never lingered. This morning was no different, but he was at least clean before slumbering within feet of her.

  He expected her to be asleep after he’d dressed and left the bathroom, but she was midstretch, her long, lithe body on display and her hair cascading down her back.

  His manhood twitched and he darted to the bed. Settling on his side, he put his back to her. He’d crossed the line by kissing her twice in one night. He wanted more, so much more, but she didn’t need that kind of pressure from him. “Sleep well, Isabelle.”

  “Oh, I’m not sleeping yet. A shower sounds divine.” The bathroom door closed. The heat and life in the room faded without her.

  Water turned on. He closed his eyes and sifted through his options for mental exercises to keep lustful thoughts off her naked form on the other side of the wall, water sluicing down her soft body.

  Isabelle’s voice carried through the walls. She was singing. He didn’t recognize the song. Something about Havana, followed by ooh-la-la. He didn’t remember the song going quite like how she sang it. Her warble was adorable and she pitched it low enough that he could hear her but neighboring humans wouldn’t.

  Off-key, but she got points for enthusiasm. When was the last time he’d sung in the shower? Never, but his mother had told him he had a nice voice and too bad he would never need it in his line of work.

  He had, though. From outside her door, he’d sung Isabelle to sleep several nights, between when she’d quit being terrified of him and when she’d grown old enough for it to be inappropriate for him to sing about rocking cradles.

  He evened out his breathing when she came out of the bathroom on a wave of ocean-fresh shampoo. It couldn’t compete with her natural citrusy scent. The other bed squeaked as she eased into it. Covers rustled as she flipped around to a comfortable position.

  It wasn’t long before she went still and her breaths were steady. Scurn rolled to his back but didn’t look at her.

  His butt sank in the middle and the pillow propped his head at an ungodly angle. He tried to relax. He turned back to his side, the springs groaning under his weight. Now he bowed like soggy wood. With a sigh, he flipped back. Isabelle squirmed with the extra noise but stayed asleep.

  Dammit. After a century, he wasn’t going to adapt to a bed overnight. As he rolled off, the bed protested his movements. He dropped to a crouch until Isabelle settled down again.

  He scanned the room. The only places with enough room for him to stretch out on the floor were at the foot of the beds, between the beds, or outside the bathroom. Sleeping propped against the wall was the other position he also slept in, but the small room lacked enough bare wall space to fit him. He picked between the beds.

  Stretching out on the floor, he exhaled a long stream of air. So much better. The dank carpet wasn’t a deal breaker and his muscles relaxed into the familiar position.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept before his eyelids flew open. Isabelle was hanging over the edge of her bed, frowning at him.

  “I couldn’t sleep,”
he rumbled.

  Her green eyes lit with understanding. She rolled off and dropped next to him. “Humans are noisy.”

  Hustle and bustle from the hallway filtered into the room and doors randomly slammed up and down the hall. He was surprised he’d fallen asleep at all.

  He scooted over, but she wedged herself into his side. “What do you think the Synod would do with me if they found out?”

  Trying to relax, he couldn’t. She was too close and he couldn’t force himself to move. Where had all those years of rigid discipline gone? “Are you saying if, or when they find out? Have you seen something?”

  “I’ve seen me facing them. I know Demetrius is at the table with them. I can describe their features, what each Synod member looks like. Other than Bastian, of course. I already know what he looks like.” Ophelia’s mate was the newest member of the Synod, and the first non-prime vampire to be involved in governing the species. But he didn’t know Isabelle’s riddles meant she saw clips of the future.

  “Did the noise wake you, or the worry?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve been seeing this more and more since Bastian took office. Then I had a vision of the girl and she took priority.”

  “Because you facing the Synod means she might have to one day, too.”

  “I don’t want to be used.”

  He could get behind that. He’d been used by their former government. His purpose in life was keeping her from facing the same. When people found out you could see parts of their future, they got…weird, unreasonable.

  Isabelle fit perfectly into him, and his body noticed. She needed to talk and he needed to tame his reaction to how she pressed against him.

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “More importantly, I don’t want what I say to be misinterpreted and used against anyone.”

  “I’ll keep that from happening.”

  She lifted her head and leaned over him, her hair draping across his chest. He’d never seen her like this…so intimate.

  He should move to the bed. Or to the office chair that looked like a torture device.

  “Bartholomew. I want to have sex.”

  He froze. Had he heard correctly? How had they gone from her definition of Armageddon to her desire?