Page 50 of Shattered Veil
Balor steers me to the elevator. “They’re putting out food in a little while. Get settled in your room and meet me back down here in the lobby.”
I go still.
My room.
Balor and I aren’t sharing a room. Why did I think we would? I hoped it, but...
“Here.” He hands me a keycard. “Do you want Trace to go with you?”
“He’s your bodyguard,” I say, brushing a hand through my hair, wondering what I look like after such a long, trying day.
“I don’t need a bodyguard. My brothers insist.”
I like that his brothers take his safety seriously, but it also makes me wonder why they insist. Is Balor in some kind of danger he’s not telling me about?
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“You worried about me, butterfly?” He pinches the collar of my coat. “I’ll stay here and grab us a table to eat. Youneedfood, Ella.”
“Honestly, a bag of chips—”
“You’re eating.” Balor hovers over me. “You barely ate lunch. And chips are hardly a meal.”
My heart flutters that he’d notice how much I’m eating. Or not eating. I’ve not mentioned that spikes of nausea attack me throughout the day. And I’m scared to death of what it means.
“There are a lot of people in this hotel. I don’t know how much food they are putting out. I want to make sure you get a meal.”
Nodding, I spot Trace rocking on his heels a few feet away, wearing shades and scanning the room. Sure enough, as we speak, the lobby is filling up.
“Trace, here’s the key to our room. Please sweep both.” Balor hands him the second keycard.
“Aye, boss.” Trace takes it and struts toward the elevator.
I turn to walk away and Balor tugs on my arm. The force sends my forehead straight for his mouth where he plants a kiss on my skin.
“What was that for?” I ask, swallowing hard.
“I... I don’t know,” he whispers harshly. “It’s just so damn hard not to.”
Not sharing a room is his way of keeping a distance he’s fighting.
“I’ll be right back.” I turn, and when I’m not grabbed this time, my heart sinks.
Trace and I ride the crowded elevator and on the fourth floor, others mill around with little kids, looking for their room. Trace takes the lead and strolls confidently down the right-hand hallway. At an alcove with two doors, he stands to the side.
“It looks like you’re right next door.”
Nodding, I key my way in and wonder if Balor hears me try to make myself come later, will he knock down the wall to get inside and help me finish?
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I’m back in the crowded lobby, and Trace launches into full bodyguard mode. He’s visibly rigid, glaring at anyone who comes remotely near me and Balor.
While Balor saves us a place on the food line, Trace steers me toward an open table with his hand on the small of my back. He’s protecting me. But he’s Balor’s bodyguard. Does Trace see what I mean to Balor by protecting me like this?
Trace Quinlan still makes me uneasy. He not only saw me in a robe after Balor fucked me, but he paid me for the sex we had. Now, here I am. Balor’s assistant. But sleeping in a separate hotel room.
Riding with Trace each morning, I never thought to bring up what happened in Los Angeles, but now that we’re in this hotel situation again and with Balor several feet away, I feel like I need to set the record straight.
“You know I’m not really an escort, right?”