Chapter Eight

The air in Vegas was hot. To Ness, the only redeeming grace was that Vegas had a dry heat. A hundred plus degrees temperature would be unbearable for him if it came with a high humidity. “Doesn’t the temperature bother you?” He asked Cyrus as they made their way out of the plane, heading toward two cars Cyrus had arranged for them.

“Nope.” Cyrus was looking crisp and sharp in his suit, having changed his clothes just before they reached US airspace. “I’ve learned to adapt to most things over the years. A big part of my training, I suppose you can call it, when I was a lot younger involved becoming immune to aspects such as changes in temperature, dealing with injuries, various torture techniques. Nothing special. I have found over the years that training makes it a lot easier for me to deal with whatever people throw at me now, and I never worry about the weather. A hundred above, a hundred below, it’s all the same to me.”

I was only asking about the weather and in temps a hundred below you’d be dead. Since when did torture come into it? That wasn’t the first time Cyrus had alluded to a harsh upbringing. When Cyrus caught his hand and started swinging it as they walked along, Ness wondered if he should have a serious talk to his mate about it, because to Ness, those offhand comments sounded terrifying.

He truly appreciated that Cyrus was apparently being open to him about everything. His only experience with ‘family men’ came from watching movies, and none of those gave him any tips on how people like Cyrus moved through life. So far, he’d never seen Cyrus raise his voice, or threaten, or anything like that, and while Ness reasoned that as Cyrus’s mate, Cyrus would never speak to him in such a way anyway, he was curious to see how Cyrus would act now they were on his home turf.

Apparently PDAs were fine. Ness had seen that in Inverness the day before. It was as if Cyrus walked through the world totally uncaring what anyone thought about him or his actions. Ness was simultaneously aroused and quietly worried about it. He didn’t have that confidence.

“I’ve arranged for your plane staff to stay at my hotel,” Cyrus said easily, holding open the back passenger door of the first town car waiting for them. “I hope you don’t think I was being overly controlling organizing that for you. I appreciate you probably have systems in place for your own staff. But I promise, my staff has been informed to look after yours, and of course, anything they want or need during their stay will be taken care of.”

“Controlling? You?” Ness chuckled as he slid into the back of the car. His overnight bag had already been stowed in the trunk by the driver. “That was thoughtful, thanks.”

“I’m sure you know what it’s like.” Cyrus hopped in beside him, sitting close enough their thighs touched as the car started to move. “You would be well used to managing things. It’s second nature for both of us.”

“It’s nice not to have to think about things like that all the time, though. Hopefully I can do the same for you at other times.”

“Having my own hotel has its uses.” Cyrus hummed happily as the car started moving through the streets. The airport was only fifteen minutes’ drive from the Strip, the city itself rising up out of the desert like a mirage. “I never stay anywhere else when I’m in town. Where do you usually stay when you’re here?”

Ness laughed again. He was beginning to get a handle on Cyrus’s competitive nature. He named a hotel on the outskirts of town, one off the Strip as he preferred to rest in somewhere a little quieter than the bright glittering hotels downtown.

“Not a bad place.” Cyrus nodded. “It’s owned by Florence and Georgio from the Catalan family. Not shifters, obviously, but they’re good people. The place is clean and efficiently run.”

“I’ve never met the owners, obviously.” Ness was quietly amused at how Cyrus spoke about somewhere he’d stayed at infrequently. “But the night manager, Brutus, is a vampire. He was always friendly and attentive.”

“Hmm.” Cyrus gave him a look Ness couldn’t decipher. “Be sure to let him know you’re mated when we see him again.”

Considering Ness doubted Cyrus would be keen on him going anywhere alone in Vegas, he didn’t see that as a problem. In the meantime, the car had pulled into an underground parking lot of one of the biggest and brightest hotels on the Strip. “Is this one yours?”

“I own the block.” Cyrus wasn’t bragging, he was stating a fact. “Sturgis will take your bag up to our suite, but I just want to call into the office first and make sure there’s nothing needing my urgent attention.”

As Ness would’ve done exactly the same thing, he walked alongside Cyrus as they took an elevator from the parking garage up twenty-five floors. The elevator opened with a soft sigh, and Ness was faced with a wide hallway that had doors interspersed on either side. There was silver embossed wallpaper on both sides, and the carpet under his shoes was plush and a lovely shade of silver gray.

“Shades of your shark?” Ness murmured indicating the walls and carpet. There was something about the hall colors that gave the impression of quiet elegance.

“Only on this floor.” Cyrus grinned, stopping outside a door that looked like any other. “My other floors are more traditional, but very few people can afford the suites up here, so the foot traffic is minimal.” Pulling a card key from his inside jacket pocket, Cyrus swiped his card and then opened the door, indicating for Ness to go in first. “This is the hub of my operations… Shit.”

Cyrus grabbed at Ness’s arm, but Ness had already got a whiff of the scent of blood and refused to fall back, moving into the room, his nose wrinkling. Cyrus’s eyes were wide as he followed Ness in, closing the door quietly behind him. “I can explain.”

This is who my mate is, Ness reminded himself firmly as he took a seat to the side of the room. “Trying a new decorating technique?” he asked as calmly as he could, indicating the body-sized patch of congealed blood in the carpet. Inside, his heart was racing, and his animal side was ready to come out, but that wasn’t going to help. The danger, whatever it was, had clearly passed, but someone – Cyrus? – hadn’t done a very good job of cleaning up after themselves.

“Give me a minute. I need to make a call, but I swear I can explain.”