Something Secret This Way Comes: Secret McQueen, Book 1 (10 page)

“Oh, and, Secret?” Sig interrupted my internal diatribe.

“Yes?”

“We would very much like him alive.”

Chapter Fourteen

Before I could register what the Tribunal had told me, I was back in the hall with Holden and we were winding our way back up the mile of wet stairs, my feet making the motions automatically. He must have seen the shock on my face or the stumbling way in which I was taking the steps, because his unwavering frown had deepened to a look of concern.

“Secret? What did they say?”

“Peyton,” I muttered, and stopped walking to lean my face against the cold wall. The rough brick against my cheek lured me back to reality.

“I don’t understand.”

“They want me to bring them Peyton. Alive.”

His eyebrows shot up and I almost chuckled. It’s so rare for a vampire to be surprised by anything, it’s a treat to be the cause of one of those alarmed looks. Unfortunately I couldn’t really enjoy it at the moment.

“Why didn’t they just kill you?”

This time I
did
chuckle. “And get their precious hands dirty? Isn’t it so much easier to send me to a certain death? This way they aren’t the ones who killed me, but they don’t have to deal with me anymore. Juan Carlos will be thrilled.”

“Yes.” We began to walk again. If you’re looking for comfort, a vampire didn’t have the best shoulder to lean on. The only kind they could offer was a cold one. “But certainly Sig doesn’t want to see you die?”

Both Holden and I were aware of Sig’s special interest in me, though neither of us knew what it meant, and Holden
really
didn’t like it.

“Maybe he thinks I can do it.” I wasn’t sure I believed that, but it was a pleasant thought, so I held on to it.

We didn’t speak again until we were back out on the dark New York sidewalk.

“Do you think you’re capable of bringing him in?” A nice vote of confidence from my vampire liaison. But he had reason to be doubtful. I certainly was.

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

We had arrived at a busier street and were standing in front of an upscale SoHo boutique shop. It became difficult to continue our conversation with all the modelesque Barbies carrying out their shopping bags turning to get an eyeful of Holden. I also had somewhere to be, and as luck would have it we were only a few blocks from Rain Hotel.

“Can we discuss this later? You need to, uh, feed?” I nodded at a healthy-looking brunette who had walked past us and none-too-subtly winked at him. “And I kind of have a date.” I paused. “Maybe. I think?”

“With the wolf king?”

I drew to an abrupt halt in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a meaty wall of a man to walk directly into me. He skirted around me muttering something about
stupid women
, but my focus was on Holden, fire blazing in my eyes.

“You were following me last night?”

“After I got your message. Yes.”

“And you didn’t think to, oh, I don’t know, help me out when some strangers threw me into a car?”

“They were only werewolves. You were fine,” he said dismissively.

I snarled at him, and it was so inhuman a sound there was no doubt at all which half of me made the noise. Holden stiffened and took a step back. His face flashed with unease to hear something so animal coming from me.

“I’m not your bodyguard, I’m your liaison, and sometimes I think I am your friend. But don’t pretend you wouldn’t have been angry with me for rescuing you like some misguided white knight. As you are very fond of pointing out, you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. I did not believe you to be in any danger and I was right.” He gestured to me to indicate I was alive and as well as could be expected.

We glared at each other in the middle of the sidewalk. Just another Manhattan lovers’ spat as far as the people filtering around us could tell. If I had a dollar for every time Holden and I looked like a dysfunctional couple, I could buy a nicer apartment.

After a long silence and obviously feeling he needed to speak first, he tested the waters with an apology. “I’m sorry?” It sounded more like a question, and I doubted his sincerity.

“Fine. Whatever.” I waved a hand at him and walked away in the direction of the hotel.

He did not follow.

I was glad I’d worn something at least moderately dressy to meet the Tribunal, but I regretted not bringing a purse, heels or anything a normal girl would have with her for a date. Would Lucas think I was slighting him because I was wearing jeans and flats?

I reminded myself that when he’d first met me I had been significantly more dressed down than this. I also decided that if we really were soul mates, he was going to have to accept that I wasn’t the ball-gown-and-stiletto kind of princess he might have had in mind.

A princess, me. Man that was a lot to wrap my head around. Maybe I should have told Holden I was werewolf royalty. Hell, maybe I should have told the council.
Oh hey, Sig, I know you want to send me to certain death, but just so you know, I’m half werewolf and a princess at that, so show a little respect.

Right, that would go over brilliantly.

I took the opportunity of being alone to have a good look at the lobby of Lucas’s hotel. From the main foyer two hallways extended in either direction, one leading to a world-class spa, the other to a sushi restaurant. In the center of the lobby was an intricately sculpted crystal chandelier that looked to weigh several hundred pounds. To each side of it was a matching smoky-quartz chandelier, and beyond those, towards the end of each hallway, obsidian mates rounded out the tri-colored set.

The interior walls glistened like they were alive, lights from the chandeliers dancing on the moving surface of the cascading waterfalls that poured over black marble. At equal intervals down each hall were pedestals with large bouquets of exotic, fragrant flowers. In a corner, hidden from view, someone was playing a harp. Everything was alluring to the senses, and I breathed it all in, letting it soothe my rattled nerves before I walked up to the front desk.

My new Zen state was obliterated when I caught the attention of the desk clerk and asked to visit Mr. Rain in the penthouse. He took one look at my jeans and ponytail and his frown set so deep
Grandmere
would have warned him a bird might poop on his lip.

“And
who
are you?” he inquired, condescension dripping from every word. He smelled like a were but not a wolf. There was something weaselly about him in both scent and demeanor.

What to say? That I was Lucas’s date, his soul mate? Dinner?

“My name is Secret McQueen.”

He rolled his eyes before he picked up the phone next to him and pushed a large red button. The name on his tag said Melvin, and I planned to remember it. Just like I knew he’d remember mine after tonight.

“There is a woman here
claiming
she’s here to see Mr. Rain. She says her name is Secret McQueen, and—” He listened for a beat and then all the color seeped from his face. “Yes, Mr. Alvarez. My sincerest apologies. Yes, I will be certain everyone at the desk is made aware of that.” He hung up the phone and angled his head in my direction in a sort of half bow. “Miss McQueen, I apologize for my rudeness. You must understand a great number of women attempt to visit with Mr. Rain without his invitation.”

“You’re just doing your job, Melvin. I’m sure this will never happen again.”

“No. Absolutely not.” He slid a black card across the desk to me. “This is an elevator-access pass. Mr. Alvarez is on his way down to meet you, and he will help you program a code so you can reach the penthouse directly.”

I wasn’t sure who Mr. Alvarez was, but I took the card from Melvin’s trembling hand. “Thanks.”

The elevator dinged behind me, and I turned to see Desmond exit through the doors. He was wearing a soft gray sweater and some
very
well-fitting khaki trousers. His dark hair was a tousled mess, and he did not look pleased to be in the hotel lobby at nine in the evening on a Thursday. Especially not with me.

“Secret,” he said with a nod. So we were on a first-name basis, then.

“Desmond.”

“I trust Melvin gave you an access card?”

“He did.”

“And I trust he has made his apologies?” He shot a meaningful look to the man at the counter. Melvin cowered and I couldn’t blame him. Desmond was an intimidating force, even with bedhead.

“Yes, he did.”

“Good. Follow me.”

In the elevator he swiped my card and had me enter a four-digit code of my choice. He explained the card was now mine to keep and would grant me direct access to the penthouse floors. I knew he wasn’t thrilled about this, because he also added that my card and code could be canceled at any time.

In the quiet that followed, there was an unmistakable change in the atmosphere of the elevator. Not to say he became more relaxed, or I less wary, but the sensation of unfamiliar tang bursting in my mouth had returned. At first I thought it was because we were getting closer to Lucas, but then it dawned on me that this flavor was altogether different. Instead of the heady cinnamon taste Lucas left in my mouth, I now experienced something brighter, more citrusy.

Lime. It was the puckering flavor of limes, and the only place it could be coming from was Desmond. I didn’t know what to make of it and didn’t know how to ask him what it meant, so instead I changed the subject. “What kind of were is the desk clerk?”

“Ah, you smelled him.” This seemed to put him in a better mood. “Melvin is a wereferret.”

I let out a loud, short cough of a laugh. “He’s a
werret
!”

Desmond found this at least passingly funny, because he chuckled, a low, pleasant sound. “Yes, I suppose that would be one way to put it.”

We arrived at the penthouse more relaxed than we’d been on the main floor.

“He’s expecting you.” Desmond nodded to the spiral staircase. He gave me a gentle nudge, and I couldn’t help but notice how his hand lingered on my back a little longer than was necessary. I turned to see if there was any explanation on his face, but he was already walking away.

The subtle burst of lime diminished with his every step.

Was this a werewolf thing, leaving tastes in each other’s mouths? No, that was impossible. I’d been around other weres and never tasted a single one before Lucas passed me on the street last night.

It was more than a little disconcerting. Lucas had told me it was an indication of the soul-bond I shared with him, so why could I taste Desmond? Surely it wasn’t possible to be soul-bonded to two people. And why did I suddenly want a margarita?

It seemed like every moment spent with Lucas and the wolves was going to present me with a dozen new questions.

Chapter Fifteen

I found Lucas in the same place I’d left him the night before. Now, instead of bare feet and jeans, he wore the most exquisitely tailored pair of gray trousers, the same color as the sweater Desmond was wearing. I stopped to admire the way they hugged his bottom. I wanted to shake the hand of the tailor who made pants for the men of this pack. Had I been a were-feline of some variety, I would have purred. As it was I let out a fluttery sigh.

He turned to look at me with a bright, toothy smile. He had on a long-sleeved black shirt with a slight V-neck that gave me a teasing glance of his smooth chest.

“I thought you might not come.”

“Well, I figured I’d see what you’re like when you’re not kidnapping me.” I couldn’t help but smile back. “Um.” I looked over my shoulder, worried Desmond might suddenly appear behind me, which he did not. “Why does Desmond taste like spring break?”

From his place next to the massive fireplace, Lucas’s brows knit together, but his reaction was slow and the shock seemed forced. Interesting.

“You can taste Desmond? The way you taste me?”

“Yes. Only you taste like Christmas. Cinnamon. Desmond tastes like lime.” I licked the back of my teeth, chasing the lingering flavor.

Lucas furrowed his brow. “How peculiar.”

Something about the way he said it further proved to me he wasn’t all that surprised by my revelation.

“What does it mean?”

His face relaxed and he waved a hand in the air as if swatting my question away.

“It’s irrelevant. Just a quirk, nothing to be concerned about.” He stepped away from the fire and came to stand in front of me. He put his large hands on my waist, and I allowed him to do it. It didn’t escape my attention that he was hiding something, but I also didn’t think the situation with Desmond warranted over-thinking at the moment.

“You look lovely.” He was all smiles once again.

“So do you.” The taste of Desmond was gone, and now I felt as if I’d been sucking on cinnamon hearts. I wondered if being around Lucas would give me fresher breath.

I also wondered, if I kissed him would I find out what I tasted like to him? Could I lap up my own flavor by tracing my tongue over his? Before I finished thinking it, I rose on my tiptoes and closed the gap between us. I hadn’t been consciously aware I’d made the decision to kiss him, but suddenly his lips were against mine.

He must have been surprised by the abruptness of my action, because for a second he hesitated.

I began to pull away, my cheeks flushing red as I muttered, “Sor—”

I didn’t get a chance to say more than the first syllable before he drew me back into a tight embrace, holding me fast. I was literally swept off my feet as he kissed me—he was so tall my toes weren’t even touching the hardwood. If I’d been human, the force of his grip would have threatened to squeeze the air out of my lungs.

But I was not that fragile, so I draped my arms over his shoulders and parted my lips to answer the imploring request of his tongue.

His hands slid lower, cupping my ass and lifting me fully off the ground. I responded with uncharacteristic eagerness by snaking my legs around his torso. The kiss deepened. His mouth slanted over mine and his tongue brushed along my own, the hypersensitivity making my head swim. He moved his hands, squeezing my thighs firmly, and my flurry of demanding kisses pleaded for him to continue. The inside of his mouth tasted sugared, the sweetness of something like cotton candy or toasted marshmallow. That something was me.