That helped her to forget the others.
And as he moved, she noticed he drew way too many other females' notice. White-hot heat stabbed at her breast and she had the strangest desire to start knocking some wealthy heads together.
Syn didn't acknowledge them in the least as he stopped in front of the main desk.
Lifting a haughty brow, the clerk looked him up and down and appeared extremely put out that she had to wait on them. "May I help you?"
Syn returned her look with an even snottier one. "I'd like a room for the night."
She gave a short laugh as if doubting his ability to pay. "And you are?"
He handed over an ID.
The clerk looked at it, then her demeanor instantly changed. "Lord Cruel, please forgive my rudeness . . . I-I should have recognized you instantly."
Shahara started at the name and had to force herself not to show a single emotion.
He was pretending to be one of the Cruels? Was he nuts? Impersonating royalty was . . .
Shahara, the man is a wanted criminal. Not like one more warrant for his arrest would matter one way or another.
The clerk held out a scanner. "I'll just need your imprint, my lord."
Syn placed his hand over the white screen. Shahara held her breath, waiting for the alarm to blare and security to come running for them.
Instead, the white beam scanned his palm, then a small green light beeped.
The clerk's face brightened even more. "We have our king's suite available, my lord. Would that suit your needs?"
He let out an irritated sigh. "I hate to slum so, but if that's the best you have . . . I suppose we can make do for one night." He lifted Shahara's hand and kissed her fingers. "Forgive me, my lady, for not doing better by you, but you know how these plebeian establishments are. Dreadful, really. But tomorrow night I'll have you at my palace and shall make amends for tonight's misery."
Shahara pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at his perfect regal drawl. His acting abilities were impressive. "Well," she said in a bored tone as she joined his mimicry, "I suppose they have beds here, surely. We shall make due and be rewarded by the gods for our suffrage."
His dimples flashed as he winked at her.
"We'll make sure and comp your dinner, my lord. Believe me, it's an honor to have you here and we want you to have nothing but the best experience." The clerk looked past them and motioned for a VIP valet. "Please, show Lord Cruel and his guest to his suite."
Syn handed the valet their packs.
He took them without flinching. "Please follow me, my lord."
"It's all right," Syn whispered in her ear as he drew alongside her. "Trust me."
He took her hand. Squeezing it tightly, she let out a shaky breath as they passed by a security guard. There was a part of her terrified that they'd be recognized and stopped at any moment.
What they did was extremely dangerous. But Syn seemed oblivious to it as he kept pace with the valet and ignored the rest.
While they waited for the lift, she swept her gaze around the lobby. There were several stores located just beside the lift bay and she watched as people came and went.
Glancing at the various boutiques, her gaze fell to a gorgeous greenish-blue dress displayed in a nearby window. She'd never seen a color so pretty, nor material more delicate. It looked even softer than silk. Maybe a foreign material . . . What was so unusual was that the finely woven strands interlocked around the neck and sleeves to form a spider-web effect. The dress itself was a plain sheath that hugged the mannequin's body.
What she wouldn't give for a single moment of peace to try it on just to see what it'd be like to wear something that wasn't secondhand.
It would be incredible, surely.
But then, what would be the use? She probably couldn't afford the thread used to hem it.
Still, it's beautiful . . .
Syn watched Shahara's face as she stared longingly at the dress in the window not far from them. She would be breathtaking in it. Come to think of it, he'd never seen her in anything other than work clothes.
She deserved so much better than that. All her life she'd worked and struggled for the sake of her family. And what did she have to show for it?
Tessa was always in trouble and Kasen was down right nasty.
And Caillen . . .
Syn winced. He didn't want to think about Caillen because thinking about Caillen made him all too aware of why he could never again try and settle down.
His past was something that would haunt him forever. Hell, some asshole would probably put it on his tomb--Here Lies the Last Remains of Idirian Wade's Son. We Forgot His Name, but Hey, Who Cares? He Was a Worthless Filch.
Yeah, that'd be about right.
The lift pinged open. Tugging gently at her hand, Syn pulled her into it. Still she stared at the dress until the doors closed.
Syn looked away. He'd worn that same hungry look all his life, and all too well he knew what it was like to want something he couldn't have.
Peace. Family.
And most of all, someone to love.
Those three things didn't belong to anyone who bore the Wade surname.
It is what it is . . .
Shahara glanced at the valet, who quickly directed his gaze from her breasts to the wall. Any other time she'd have made him pay for such ogling, but she was still feeling somewhat overwhelmed and intimidated by her posh surroundings.
The doors opened on their floor.
The valet led them out and down the wide yellow corridor to the room at the end of the hall. Syn stepped around her and placed his hand against the door lock that the clerk had programmed to respond to his touch alone. The large wooden doors swung open with a flourish.
Shahara's breath caught in her throat as she looked inside. Never in her life had she seen anything so beautiful. Gold-veined green marble covered the floors, and the walls were painted a vivid, inviting yellow and the trim was all dark wood.
As she entered the suite, a huge vase of fresh flowers greeted her, scenting the air with a wonderful bouquet. The sitting room had overstuffed cream-striped chairs and two large sofas, one of which was set before a fireplace.
Syn tipped the valet and took their packs before he closed and locked the door. He set the packs down and crossed the room to where she stood. "Are you all right?"
"Fine." She took a step down to walk toward the massive windows that looked out over the bustling city.
Whoa . . . It was gorgeous.
She felt like some mythical princess in a fairy tale. Did the people who were born to this kind of life really appreciate it? Or was this as mundane to them as plain flatbread to her?
What a pity if they couldn't understand how lucky they were.
Syn frowned as he followed after her. "I don't know . . . I've never known you to be so quiet. You sure you haven't swallowed your tongue?"
She gave him a nasty glare before turning back to take in the glorious view. "I suppose you're used to things like this."
He joined her at the window. "Not really. When you grow up without anything at all, you never really get used to things like this. It still awes me that I'm able to be on the inside after all the years I spent looking in windows, aching to be in this world."
"Breaking in windows, don't you mean?"
He smiled and this time there was no defensiveness or anger. "That, too."
She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him curiously. "So how did we get in here, anyway?"
He handed her the ID, which held his face and Darling's name. "We did this years ago. It allows me to infiltrate areas I'd never be able to access with my own identity."
"You two have a strange relationship."
He returned the ID to his pocket. "Not really. He works with me. Remember? We do a lot of screwed up stuff like this."
"You're not afraid his family will find out?"
"His brother Ryn wouldn't care and I'd pay his uncle to come at me. I wa
nt a piece of that bastard so bad I can taste it."
The sincerity in his tone and expression gave her chills. But then she knew why. Darling's uncle abused him. She'd had to pull Caillen back on more than one occasion when her brother was going to head out and kill the man.
"You really are a lot like my brother. You know that?"
"Gah, I hope he's not as attracted to you as I am. 'Cause that's just sick."
She rolled her eyes at him. "You're awful."
He didn't argue as he pushed open the window so that Vik could join them.
Vik landed on the sill, turned into his bot form and slammed the window closed. "I hate this planet. How long we got to stay?"
"Hopefully not long."
"Good, 'cause I'm missing my toaster and need to get out of here."
Syn held his hands up. "I'm not even going to go there."
Scanning the room, she saw the bar. "You want something to drink?"
"Sure, I'd love a glass of wine." He picked up the hotel's link. "I'm also starving. You want anything?"
"I'll take whatever you order."
"When did you get so trusting?" Before she could answer, he laughed evilly.
"What?" she asked, her trust taking a back seat to his humor. Something told her that she was the brunt of his joke.
The smile he gave her was brilliant and gorgeous. "I forgot that you have to eat your own cooking. I guess anything else is nirvana."
"Ha, ha," she said, wishing she had something to throw at him.
He sobered as someone came on the line and he ordered food for them. She listened to the sound of his deep voice speaking in his native tongue. It was simply amazing how he could adapt to all these different environments. He could run with outlaws, skim sewers, and quell snotty royalty and unruly clerks.
Most of all, he'd taught a tracer how to trust even when she'd thought herself immune from any man's charms.
How did he do it?
Pouring their drinks, she felt him draw close after he'd finished ordering their food. The heat from his body singed her as he reached around her and picked up his glass. He stood so close his breath tickled her neck, raising a chill the length of her body.
His warm masculine scent wrapped around her like an old comfortable blanket. And her body answered the call with a readiness that astounded her.
How could she still burn for him when she'd just had him only a short time ago?
What was it about this man that made her wanton?
But then she knew. It was everything about him. His humor, his intelligence. That wonderful dimple that peeked at her every time he smiled.
He set his glass aside and turned her around in his arms. "I know an even better way to kill time," he said, his voice deep with need.
Trying to retain her nonchalance, she cocked her brow. "You do?"
That wonderfully wicked smile curved his lips. "Hmm," he said, dipping his head down until his lips met hers.
Shahara parted her lips, welcoming him inside. The warmth of his breath and heat of his body stirred her near to madness and she wondered if she would ever get enough of him. Something inside told her that even if she had him for two hundred years, she'd always appreciate it.
"Uh, people?" Vik rushed over in his bot form to stand at their feet. "I think I'll go patrol for something. Definitely. I'm not into voyeur stuff . . . yeah." He transformed into a bird, then hit the closed window and fell to the floor. "Dammit, Syn. Did you have to do that?"
Syn laughed before he opened the window and helped Vik out. "Don't come back without warning."
"Don't worry. I don't need my circuitry burning out 'cause I saw you naked." He flew off.
Syn shut the window, then returned to her side and pulled her back into his arms.
Suddenly, a laugh bubbled up in her throat.
Syn pulled back, staring at her as if she'd insulted him. "What?"
She smiled. "I can't believe you're ready for another round. Caillen always says he needs a day's rest after he has sex."
He snorted disdainfully. "Caillen's a wuss." He took her hand in his and placed it to the bulge at his groin. "I assure you, I'm well up to the challenge."
Her throat dry, she felt heat creep up her face, to her hairline. Before she could move, he returned to their kiss, leaving her hand trapped between them so that she had no choice but to feel his blood rush through the most intimate part of his anatomy.
Shahara burned with her own need as she shifted her body to fit more snugly with his.
Syn moaned at her surrender. She was spectacular and he couldn't believe that he wanted to make love to her again. Normally, he'd be like Caillen, too, and need a day to rest.
But not with her. Every waking minute he was with her, all he wanted was to feel the security of her arms, feel her breath tickle his neck while he took possession of her body. He got hard every time he looked at her.
She moved her hand from him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Syn stepped closer, pressing himself against the warmth of her body as he continued to tease her tongue with his own.
"Shouldn't we be plotting our next move?" Her words were ragged in his ear.
"I already did."
"When?"
"While I was in my office. I grabbed my IDs and everything else we needed."
"So you know where the statue is?"
"No. But I'm hoping we can find clues in the office where I stashed it." He put his finger to her lips. "Trust me, Shahara. I'll get the chip and get you out of this. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
How she wished she could make the same promise to him . . .
Suddenly, a knock intruded. "Room service," a voice called from the other side of the door.
Growling low in his throat, Syn stepped back from her. "Can you get it?"
"Me?" Shahara shook her head. "I don't know how to do this. I've never been in a hotel in my life."
He cleared his throat meaningfully. "C'mon, I can't answer the door like this. It's a guy out there."
Her gaze dipped to the area he indicated and she realized his arousal was more than obvious. Laughing, she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a playful look of her own. "I think it would make interesting waiter conversation for him and his buddies if you did."
His look turned murderous. "Just open the door, let him bring the food in, and sign the ledger he hands you."
"What about the tip?"
"It's already added to the bill."
Shahara paused for a minute longer, just to annoy him. "All right," she said at last. "I guess you're off the hook."
Before she could blink, he disappeared through a double set of doors to hide.
"You coward!" she called out, mocking him.
"Don't give me no lip, wench. It's all your fault."
Her smile wide, Shahara pressed the release to open the main doors. A young man brought in a huge tray covered with silver and gold dishes. He placed them on the marble-covered table just to the left of the foyer. "Does madam require anything else?" he asked politely.
Wow, no one had ever called her "madam" before. She actually liked it. "I think we're fine."
He handed her a small computer ledger and she started to sign her name an instant before she thought about how stupid that might be. Instead she made up one.
The waiter inclined his head and left her.
"You can come out now," she called out to Syn. "It's safe."
While she waited for him to rejoin her, she starting pulling off lids. Her stomach growled at the wonderful scent of roasted meat and vegetables. Her mouth watering, she took a pinch of the softest roll she'd ever seen before.
It was marvelous.
Syn came up behind her again, silent as a ghost, and pulled her back against his chest so that she could tell the interruption hadn't dampened his mood a bit.
She realized then that he always moved that way. Graceful and quiet like a feral hunting beast. If she didn't know better, she'd swear he had assassi
n training. But then, given his father, his training had probably been even harsher.
He looked at the food, then back at her. "I don't know which aching need to quench first. I think I'd rather take a bite out of you."
Catching his chin in her hand, she laughed. "Take care of the food first. I assure you I won't get cold."
His deep laugh joined hers, and he gave her a kiss of promise and a tantalizing stroke between her legs before taking a seat at the table.
Shahara went for their drinks before she joined him.
Sitting down, she stared at all the cutlery the waiter had brought them. There were three different forks--obviously for different foods. Which one should she use? It was a foolish concern, she knew, but after what he'd said about Mara, she didn't want him to find her lacking in any way.
As she struggled to put her peas on her fork the same elegant way he did, he reached over and touched her hand. Looking up, she was captivated by the tenderness in his dark eyes.
He took the fork from her grasp and stabbed the peas with it. "I quit caring about such stupid things a long time ago. Manners don't make you decent and it doesn't make you a better human. Trust me. Eat your food in peace and know that you're more of a lady than any noblewoman I've ever met." He handed her the fork.
Swallowing the bite, she watched him from under her lashes, somewhat embarrassed that he'd noticed what she'd been doing. And that she'd failed so miserably at having etiquette.
A painful lump settled in her stomach. "When I was little, I used to sit in the market down the street from where we lived and watch the upper plebs come in to shop. They were always so elegant and beautiful. I used to pretend I was one of them. Did you ever do that?"
"No. I used to pretend I was Vik. I'd send him out to fly, and I'd wear vids so that I could see and hear what he did. I wanted his freedom so badly that I don't think I'd be sane today had I not made him."
She sighed as she remembered her own childhood. While bad, it was nothing compared to his. "Did you move a lot?"
"Constantly. We weren't allowed to keep anything that couldn't fit into a pack that we could grab and go whenever the authorities got too close to my father. I can't even count how many times Digger would wake us up in the middle of the night to run."
She sucked her breath in sharply. "I always hated that feeling of panic most."
He cocked a brow at her words. "You ran, too?"
"From creditors. My dad would wait until the day before eviction and we'd have to flee before they arrested him. I remember when I was ten, my pack got left behind because I was helping Caillen."