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datatime: 2022-12-02 03:50:08 Author:oZzscMOc

You seem nervous, Jeremy.

I looked at him. It's bothering you to see me nude.

Good for you, but trust me about the shower.

Shouldn't I be?

He raised his left hand in the air. Let's just say that Branwyn's Tears has a long shelf life. Take the shower.

He opened his jacket like a model on the runway showing off the smooth line of his shirt and tie. But he was flashing the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. It was just a darker shape against the paleness of his shirt, but I knew it was a 9-mm LadySmith because it was my gun. He took an extra clip out of one pocket. The box of extra ammo is in the sack with your clothes. He laid the gun on top of the taped packet and stepped back around the bed, so that it stood between us.

I stared at the packet, then at him. That wasn't all that was under the seat.

I stared at the packet, then at him. That wasn't all that was under the seat.

Jeremy laughed. Don't worry, I haven't made any calls, but I'm sure the police have by now. I don't know why you've been hiding all this time, but if you're hiding from the sluagh, the Host, then you're in deep trouble.

He tossed a small paper-wrapped packet onto the bed. It was the packet of papers that stayed taped under the seat of my car. He'd brought my new identity. How did you know?

He nodded. My apologies for that, but it's why Ringo and Uther are down in the van. Just as a precaution.

I don't have my passport.

What's happened?

Even across the room in the dark I could feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of it. It was impolite for a fey to ask another direct questions, but, oh, he wanted to ask. You could feel the unasked questions like something touchable in the air between us.

Sluagh was a rude name for the lesser Unseelie fey. The Host was the polite phrase. Rude first, polite was an afterthought. Oh, well. Only another Unseelie could say sluagh and not have it be a mortal insult.

He stood near the door, and the light switch. It was hard to tell in the dark but he seemed dressed in one of his usual suits, impeccably tailored, compact and elegant. But there was an underlying tension to him, as if he wanted to say other things, more direct things, or maybe, he knew something already. Something bad.

Shouldn't I be?

Then hurry.

I'm an Unseelie princess. Why should I be hiding from them?

He opened his jacket like a model on the runway showing off the smooth line of his shirt and tie. But he was flashing the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. It was just a darker shape against the paleness of his shirt, but I knew it was a 9-mm LadySmith because it was my gun. He took an extra clip out of one pocket. The box of extra ammo is in the sack with your clothes. He laid the gun on top of the taped packet and stepped back around the bed, so that it stood between us.

He nodded. My apologies for that, but it's why Ringo and Uther are down in the van. Just as a precaution.

He leaned back against the wall. That is the question, isn't it.

Shouldn't I be?

Even across the room in the dark I could feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of it. It was impolite for a fey to ask another direct questions, but, oh, he wanted to ask. You could feel the unasked questions like something touchable in the air between us.

He opened his jacket like a model on the runway showing off the smooth line of his shirt and tie. But he was flashing the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. It was just a darker shape against the paleness of his shirt, but I knew it was a 9-mm LadySmith because it was my gun. He took an extra clip out of one pocket. The box of extra ammo is in the sack with your clothes. He laid the gun on top of the taped packet and stepped back around the bed, so that it stood between us.

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