Allister, J. Rose - Immortal Menage [Immortal Paradise 4] (Siren Publishing PolyAmour)

by J. Rose Allister

  Grayel smiled. “Thank you.”

  He half expected the demi to walk backwards all the way out the door while executing a contrite bow, but instead he turned in silence and exited while appearing lost in troubled thought.

  Grayel paced back and forth, wishing he’d taken the chance of his father storming the mortal realm and meeting with Lex Ann when he’d last crossed the barrier. Perhaps Grayel had gone overboard with Love just now, been too harsh. He didn’t want the male who would be instrumental in the success of the mating ritual to be uncomfortable in his role. The transformation would not take place if the sexual bond was not consummated unabashedly and simultaneously. Love holding back out of fear his member would be cut off in a jealous rage would not grant Lex Ann an eternity in Grayel’s arms. And Grayel honestly did not feel qualms about the right being taking his mate sexually during that time. The man’s cock that would thrust into her and bring her to orgasm would only be a tool, an extension of his own mating organ that was too potent for her human flesh to survive.

  He turned back to begin final preparations, making a pact with himself. He would visit her one more time in dreams, and try to explain things in a realm where words became symbols that were all too often missed—or misunderstood. Meanwhile, he would trust Love to help her understand what fate awaited her, and pray that she would accept the calling when next they stood together in the channels of her mind.

  Chapter Seven

  Bang.

  Bang! Bang!

  Crash.

  Lexie groaned, pulling the pillow over her head to drown out the noise that had started up at an ungodly early hour of the morning.

  Screech.

  “Oh, for gods’ sakes!”

  Three hours of this already. She threw off the pillow, which landed on the floor along with the fluffy bedding she kicked off shortly thereafter. Sitting up in a huff, however, proved to be a mistake. She groaned as muscles protested her rash actions. Her arms and legs felt like they’d been through a boxing match, and her lower back had known better days as well.

  Then the reason she felt battered and bruised came back to her. She had been battered, by pounding waves when she’d taken a ridiculous risk in the ocean the night before. Then she’d been rough-housed by an iron workhorse of a man who claimed not to be a man. He had carried her to shore and dumped her on her towel—and then…

  She groaned again, this time in disgust at the memory of what she’d done on the beach at a stranger’s urging. Right in front of him, no less. And she’d gone for it like an exhibitionist on holiday, all for yet another man whose name she didn’t know. She had quite the dysfunctional theme going.

  I am what you are feeling for me right now.

  Whatever.

  Lexie snorted and got to her feet. A Jacuzzi bath would be heaven right about now, followed by some good, solid time on a therapist’s couch. She wondered whether the resort employed a full-time shrink to deal with the problem of delusional guests who flew to the island in search of ghosts. Gorgeous, sexy ghosts who drove them to all-new meanings of insanity.

  The banging outside grew louder, followed by a boom.

  “Ugh.”

  Gritting her teeth, she went over to the window and yanked back the velvety pale green curtains. The sun blinded her momentarily. Hotels definitely knew their stuff when it came to blackout drapes for uninterrupted sleep. Too bad this one failed to realize that it didn’t matter one whit if they couldn't drown out the sound as well.

  She peered out and grimaced. Workers were hammering and sawing one floor below, practically right beneath her window. The hotel hadn’t been kidding when they’d said they were putting her in a construction zone. Any closer and they’d be inside her room. Then one of them started shouting about weather and cement drying and bull floats, whatever the hell that was. This whole thing was bull.

  “Great.”

  She went over to the bedside phone and punched in the number for the front desk.

  Bang.

  “Hello? This is room 212. Are you aware that it is”—she paused to flick a glance at the bedside clock—“nine a.m. and…what?”

  Crash. Slam.

  “I can’t hear you,” she shouted over the din. She pulled the phone away from her ear and then pressed it tighter. “There is too much noise in here. Hello?”

  Unable to hear a word, she sighed and hung up. Some trip this was turning out to be. Not only was she going insane, but the accommodations in her private nuthouse sucked, too.

  After a quick shower in lieu of the Jacuzzi she’d have preferred, she pulled on a pair of pale blue terry cloth shorts and a matching tank, jammed her feet into flip-flops, and grabbed her tote bag. All the way to the lobby she fumed, ignoring the happy, lovey-dovey guests who were just thrilled to be frolicking with their lovers.

  The waterfall’s roar sounded angry as she stalked out of the elevator bank and over to the main desk.

  The clerk, whose name tag read Travis, was dressed in an island shirt crisp enough to look not only pressed, but starched as well. “Yes?”

  “I need to change rooms.”

  “Ma’am?”

  Ma’am? Christ, just how old did she look? This guy couldn’t be more than four years younger.

  “Yeah, sonny. My room sounds like a war zone. I need another one.”

  The boyish-faced clerk shook sandy-colored bangs from his face. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” A muscle twitched near her eye at the repeat offense. “What room are you in?”

  He poised his fingers over the keyboard on his desk computer.

  “212.”

  The poised fingers dropped. “Ah. You’re in the construction area.”

  “Now you’re getting it. It’s awful. Isn’t there a room somewhere else?”

  “Let me check.”

  After a minute of fierce key tapping, he offered a victorious smile. “We can move you to 609 immediately.”

  “Great.” She fished through her tote to pull out the old keycard and make the trade.

  “Of course,” he went on, tapping a bit more, “there is an upgrade in price.”

  She frowned. “How much?”

  Tap, tap. “One thousand.”

  “A thousand extra dollars for this trip?”

  He cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s one thousand extra per night.”

  Her jaw fell open. “That’s ridiculous! It’s you guys’ fault I have to move. Shouldn’t you give me the upgraded room for free?”

  “You signed a waiver indicating you were aware of the potential for construction noise. You agreed to take the room at a reduced price to compensate the inconvenience.”

  She folded her arms. “That’s not an inconvenience. It’s a damned sonic boom festival.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. We could offer you a complimentary dinner at the Pier for your trouble.”

  She arched a brow at him. “Is it a sleep-in restaurant? Because I might just fall face-first into my fifty-dollar soup if I don't get some rest.”

  He threw her a look that said I-wish-I-wouldn’t-get-fired-for-saying-what-I’m-thinking. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience. But I don’t have any other rooms outside the construction zone that we could upgrade you to without a surcharge.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? Sleep in the lobby?

  “It’s all right, Travis.” The voice was male, and belonged to a blond man who shot her eyes wide open. “Miss Porter is my special guest.”

  Travis became a man transformed. His eyes grew wild, and his average-guy-meets-highbrow butler attitude shifted into that of a nervous little boy. “Yes, of course.” He started tapping keys frantically. “Let me see if we have any higher level rooms that are vacant.”

  “That won’t be necessary. She will be staying in the End Suite.”

  Her jaw was already open as she stared at the sublime man, and from the corner of her eye she saw Travis’s jaw follow suit.

  Her heart began to skip and leap, leap and skip. It was him.
She blinked and looked again, just to be certain. Yes. Not him, the man she’d fallen in love with and flown over two thousand miles to see. This was the man who’d been in last night’s dream. The one who’d fed her grapes while she lounged half naked on the floor.

  The gaze he turned on her instantly relaxed shoulder muscles she’d unwittingly tensed. She offered him a gracious smile. “That’s very generous of you, but I don’t want to impose.”

  The shake of his head seemed to ripple the very air around him. There was something familiar in the aura of power he seemed to exude. She tried to puzzle it out, but came up blank. Handsome features shot into overdrive by the smile he flashed seriously challenged her ability to think.

  “It’s not an imposition. It’s a requirement.” He held out a hand. “I’m Love.”

  She tossed her head back and laughed. “Well, hi, ‘Love’. I guess you can call me ‘Looking For’.”

  His hand blazed with heat when she took it. Did every man here burn with the same jungle fever? She hoped it wasn’t catching. Still, it was his eyes that intrigued her the most. They shimmered like pale aquamarines that were much lighter blue than hers. And they burned with something brighter in their depths, secrets that tantalized and shot her curiosity into full gear.

  He turned back to Travis. “You’ll move her belongings immediately?”

  Travis nodded. “Of course.” Travis gave her a look that bordered between respect and awe. “Thank you for bearing with us, ma’am. Enjoy the rest of your stay.”

  She allowed herself the fun of shooting him a bit of a nyah-nyah smile in return. “You know, I think I just might.”

  The blond dream man gave a slightly amused expression and gestured for her to follow him. She complied, shaking her head that for the third time in recent past, she was doing what a strange man was telling her to. And for the life of her, she hadn’t the slightest idea why. At least she knew this one’s name—well, sort of. Love? Seriously?

  In any case, why would she complacently follow this man to his room, where he’d do god knew what to her? Had she gone completely mental?

  Except, not so deep down, she knew why she followed him.

  Don’t be afraid to follow your heart. Love will find you when you least expect to succeed.

  And here he was. At least one of the men from her dreams had made an appearance in her real life. How could she not go along, see where this craziness would lead? Meeting her dreams head-on was the entire reason she was here. Somehow she knew this man held the answers she sought.

  When they bypassed the elevators, however, she became a bit concerned. “Where are we going?”

  “To a floor most guests are not permitted access to.” He whirled on her and flashed another pure white smile. “I trust you can keep a secret?”

  “Why not?”

  And she meant it. It wasn’t as if she told anyone she got fucked thoroughly most every night by a dream specter, and then decided to race off to an island just in case her hallucinations turned out to be real.

  He took her down a hall of what appeared to be administrative offices, through a set of double doors, and into a lounge that caught her breath. The spread of food set out along one wall would feed a small town for a week. In five-star style, no less. They bypassed this and went to another door in the rear, which appeared to be locked. He did something odd, pressing his finger over the slot where a key would go, and then she heard a click. On the other side was a smallish room with nothing but a single elevator. He did the odd finger thing again to a key slot on the elevator panel and punched a button. It whirred to life and dinged a short time later. There must have been some sort of fingerprint recognition system on the locks, though it seemed weird there wasn’t a flat, press-your-finger-here pad rather than what seemed an ordinary lock. Oh well.

  Once inside the rich red and gold elevator, the doors closed and something in her body opened. She felt surrounded by this man, enveloped by the sense that all was right in her world. It seemed like no harm could ever come to her, and that she would always have the acceptance—even adoration—of others. She gave him a sideways glance, intrigued by the shine on his pale blond hair. It seemed brighter than the dim elevator lighting could reflect. His features were defined, but not rigidly chiseled. Her eyes slid along his contours, over his Adam’s apple and creamy skin that was unblemished and softer than she’d ever seen on a man. Skin so perfect should belong on a female model, or a child, perhaps. Nevertheless, the effect of such satin and cream skin over the perfectly round sculpt of his muscles was potently masculine.

  He pushed a button marked 9E and their car jumped to attention. The elevator ride seemed to take forever, and the pulse beat of her heart grew louder with each passing moment. Why elevators were such a hotbed of social ineptitude she had no idea, but standing in one with this man magnified that awkward phenomenon tenfold. She couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to break the tension, so she settled for fidgeting with the straps of her tote. He, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to the perils of sharing close quarters with a stranger. In fact, he gave a small smile that seemed to indicate he was quite enjoying himself.

  At long last, the elevator dinged and came to rest it seemed fifty stories up, although the indicator lit up indicating they were on the ninth floor. This did seem to confirm his claim that there were floors other guests could not access, as she was one hundred percent certain that the main elevators only went up six floors.

  They exited the elevator into another anteroom, and when he reached the door there, he turned to her. “Everything you know is about to change. Are you absolutely certain you are prepared to walk into a new reality?”

  Her heart pounded with anticipation. “That’s why I came here.”

  So what now? Was he speaking metaphorically? Or was she about to step out into some sort of Technicolor wonderland?

  Both theories proved incorrect when he pushed open the door. He gestured her ahead of him into a room that was neither entirely plausible nor decked out like Oz or Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. This was a white palace unlike anything she’d ever seen.

  “It’s so big,” she said, turning in a complete circle as she walked into the middle of the space. “This must take up the entire ninth floor.”

  He laughed. “Not even close. But it is the largest suite in the hotel.”

  There were touches that identified this as part of the Amante resort, such as the marble flooring reminiscent of her decadent bathroom. This marble gleamed even brighter, however, and covered the entire suite. The sitting room they were in was gargantuan, even the furniture. Everything was a pure and radiant white, from seating to chests and tables that gleamed like the tile floors, and the bar and a fireplace that was lit despite the warm tropical weather. Fixtures were silver, some gleaming with a high polish and others rubbed with a subdued patina. The only splashes of color came from abstract art placed at occasional intervals along the walls, and from black rugs like the one that was under her feet.

  Her eyes widened. She recognized that rug. She’d been lying on it in her dream. Excitement vibrated through her body. She knew she’d been right to follow him here. Her dreams were trying to lead her to the answer. To him.

  The blond paused near the bar. “May I offer you something?”

  She almost asked him whether he had any frosted grapes, but thought better of it. Instead, she shook her head and smiled.

  “Then let me show you to your room.”

  Her room? She got to have her own room in this palace?

  Barely restraining a squeal, she tailed him to a pair of louvered double doors just off what appeared to be the front entry hall. There she paused a moment, taken in by an aberration in the all-white decor. The front door was like no hotel door she’d ever seen. It looked heavy, with intricate designs carved into some kind of dark, antique wood.

  “I hope this will be satisfactory,” he said.

  She turned her head, and he opened the doors to her room.


  Her eyes widened. “It’s amazing. Thank you so much.”

  He gestured her past, and she accidentally brushed him when she entered. His skin felt even more silken than it appeared, and it heated her arm like the brush of warm, melted butter. Her gasp was automatic, and her head whipped around to see whether he’d noticed her reaction. He was looking at her, the blue of his eyes appearing even deeper in this lighting.

  She swallowed and walked the rest of the way into the room, halting in shock when she saw the bed sitting in the middle of a room larger than her entire second floor accommodations. She was sure there had never been a bed like this, not in all the history of mankind. It looked impossibly plump and plush, covered in a sinful blood-burgundy spread. It was much larger than the king-sized bed in her previous room, and it was scalloped. Not the bedspread, but the actual shape of the bed included large, round scallops around three sides. The fourth was nestled flat against an antique carved headboard on the back wall with shimmery, cream-colored fabrics draped and wound through posts rising from each end. The posts were shaped like horns, as though taken from an animal too large to exist anywhere on earth.

  She would have loved nothing more than to race over to the monster bed, plop down, and roll around, but she wasn’t about to do that with Mr. Tall, Blond, and Heavenly watching. Especially after what had just transpired when she brushed against him. On the contrary, she was thinking it might not be a bad idea to get out of this room as quickly as possible. Away from the mother of all beds.

  One whole wall was solid mirror, and just beyond that was a short hall into a small vanity area. An upholstered bench that matched her bedspread pulled up to a wall-sized, gilded mirror and counter. She wandered around the corner into another heavenly bathroom, where the marble tile was veined with ribbons of cream and burgundy. No Jacuzzi, but a sunken shower spanned the length of one long wall and offered tiled bench seating.

  “Your belongings should be here soon.” His voice echoed in the space, and she spun around with a small gasp. She hadn’t realized he’d followed so close behind. “In the meantime, you might be interested in the selection of attire hanging in the closet.”