Mystic Flame (Beyond Ontariese 4) (6 page)

“I can help the next person in line.” A
young man motioned them toward his station. “What name is your
reservation under?”

Dro Tar swallowed hard then forced a smile.
“We don’t exactly have a reservation. We made reservations at one
of the other hotels, but the obnoxious young woman swears we aren’t
in their system. Her attitude pissed me off so badly we brought our
business to you. We’ll take whatever you have available.”

He entered several commands into his
keyboard and stroked his chin as he stared at his display screen.
Without looking at them, he entered more commands. “There’s a
convention going on. I’m afraid all our rooms are booked.”

“Are you sure you don’t have anything. I
really don’t want to go crawling back to that bitch.”

He didn’t quite hide his smile as he said,
“Wait just a moment please.” He left the counter and slipped into
an office behind him.

“Can you zap his computer or something?” She
glanced at Evan. “We need a room.”

“My abilities don’t work that way and you
know it.”

The man returned, his expression cautious.
“Is price an issue? We have a suite on hold, but my supervisor has
given me permission to release it at eleven if the couple hasn’t
checked in by then. Between you and me, I’m sure they’re a no-show,
but we have to wait until eleven.”

“What would the cost be if we stayed for the
next four nights?” He stated the amount and Dro Tar blanched. The
other hotel had insisted she pay in advance because she didn’t have
a credit card for them to scan. “That’s more than we’d hoped to
spend.”

“I can put you in the suite for tonight and
do my best to move you to something more affordable for the other
three nights.” He looked at the restless queue and added, “You can
always take your chances at another hotel, but the whole Strip is
booked solid. Three major conventions landed on the same weekend.
It’s been chaos all day.”

“We will accept the suite for our entire
stay,” Evan said, his words heavily accented.

“Very good. Come back at eleven and I’ll
have everything ready for you. You can leave your luggage here if
you like. Enjoy the casino or wander through the convention’s
vendor showcase. It’s in the grand ballroom one level down.”

After checking in Dro Tar’s bag, Evan led
her away from the front desk. She scrubbed her hair with both
hands. “For someone with no currency, you’re certainly willing to
volunteer mine.”

“These are games of chance, correct?” She
nodded. “Which requires the least amount of skill?”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. Why hadn’t
she thought of this? He was a frigging Mystic. “The slots are a
no-brainer, but we’re back to machinery.”

“I believe my clairvoyance would be most
valuable in accomplishing our goal.”

Taking him by the sleeve she led him toward
the nearest roulette table. “Can you
see
which number the
ball will land on before the wheel stops?”

He clasped his hands before him as if he
were about to pray. Her fingers tingled and he whispered,
“Twenty-four.”

The wheel slowed and the ball dropped into
the small compartment below the number twenty-four. Dro Tar grinned
and reached for her wallet. “Roulette it is!”

“I faultlessly predicted the outcome of each
spin.” Evan walked beside Dro Tar, who cradled four trays of
striped casino chips against her chest, beaming at their recent
victory over the roulette table. “Why did you disregard my
predictions at times? Other times you only bet on the corresponding
color. Wouldn’t our winnings have been greater if you bet on the
specific number each time the wheel was spun?”

“All of the tables are under surveillance.
We needed them to believe we were just lucky. If we’d pushed it too
far too fast, we’d have drawn the wrong kind of attention.” She
nodded toward a caged area along a perimeter wall. “Let’s cash
these in and grab a drink or something. We still have almost an
hour to kill.”

“This waiting doesn’t set well with me,” he
grumbled. “We should find somewhere private enough for me to open
the journal.”

“Unfortunately the only place fitting that
description won’t be available until eleven.” Knowing she was right
didn’t ease his restlessness. The fragments of his vision refused
to clarify within his mind. He needed time and a quiet place to
meditate. Dro Tar exchanged the chips for currency and divided the
money in half. “Don’t carry all your eggs in one basket. It’s
always safer that way.”

“You mentioned a beverage.” Tuning out the
musical hum of the slot machines, Evan swept his surroundings with
a curious gaze, trying to locate a restaurant. “Did you have
something specific in mind?”

“Let’s find a coffee bar. I’m dying for
something utterly froufrou.”

He stuffed his half of the money into the
front pocket of his jeans. “That is not a legitimate word.”

She chuckled. “Sure it is.” Reaching for his
hand, she led him through the bustling casino. He should resent
being dragged around like a child, but he enjoyed her touch too
much to object. Besides, she clearly knew more about their current
environment than he did. Content to watch the sway of her hips, he
followed silently. A rich aroma reached his nose and he inhaled
deeply. “Oh yes.” She sighed. “Fresh-ground coffee.”

A youthful attendant hopped down from a
stool and hurriedly straightened his hat. “What can I get you?”

Dro Tar looked over the rectangular-shaped
board hanging behind the attendant. A menu, no doubt. Shifting his
weight from one foot to the other, Evan studied the board as well.
None of the words were familiar. Illiteracy was so frustrating. He
would have to augment his knowledge of English as soon as they were
alone.

“I’m not sure what my friend would enjoy,”
she told the attendant. “Let’s do a taste test sort of thing. Give
me a small double espresso, small hazelnut latté and small
mocha.”

“You got it.” The lad moved behind a metal
machine that hissed and gurgled. The pleasant aroma grew stronger
as he worked.

“You forgot to order a froufrou,” Evan said,
and she laughed.

“Froufrou is an adjective. Two of the three
drinks I ordered would be considered froufrou. We’ll see what you
think.”

They sat on high stools at a tiny round
table. A half wall separated the seating area from the main walkway
wending its way through the casino. He tasted each beverage before
delivering his opinion. “The espresso is bitter and unappealing,
the latté is too sweet but I rather like the mocha.”

“We’ll have to get you some chocolate before
we head back to Ontariese.” Dro Tar pushed the espresso aside, took
the latté for herself and left him the mocha. “The combination of
chocolate and coffee is very popular here on Earth.”

Before he could reply, a small group of
females approached on the other side of the half wall. Two were
laughing merrily as they listened to the impassioned debate of the
other two.

“You are such a prude,” the dark-haired
woman said to her blonde companion.

“It’s indecent, I tell you,” the blonde
insisted. “That entire…display should be shut down. There are
children in this hotel. What if one of them wandered into—”

“Why do you think the models were at the
door? No children are going to go wandering into the ballroom.
Haven’t you ever used a vibrator or watched—”

The blonde covered the other woman’s mouth
with her hand, glancing around with owlish eyes. “You’re being
purposely vulgar because I was shocked by that… It was disgusting.”
She paused to glare at the two making no effort to disguise their
laughter. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves.” She stomped
off in a fit of indignation, leaving her friends to follow at a
more leisurely pace.

“What was that about?” He looked at Dro Tar,
a muscle near his jaw twitching. The sooner they melded for a
language transfer the better. This communication barrier was beyond
annoying.

She flashed an impish smile. “I say we find
out.” Leaving the partially empty cups on the table, they found the
break in the half wall and headed across the casino. “One of them
said something about a ballroom. I’m betting this has something to
do with the vendor show.”

“If a human was upset by this display,
perhaps we should just wait for our room. Surely we have ‘killed’
enough time.”

“It’s ten forty-five and I’m curious.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he muttered
under his breath. At the bottom of a moving staircase, Dro Tar
spotted a bright red arrow. The word written across the arrow made
her laugh. Annoyance zinged through Evan. He spoke eleven languages
and was literate in nine. Ancient English just wasn’t among them.
“What was that word?”

“You’ll see.”

Two additional arrows led them to the grand
ballroom. A shirtless man and scantily clad woman flanked the
double doors. “Welcome to Sexcapades. Enjoy your stay.” The man’s
greeting sounded mechanical. Cyborgs didn’t exist in this era.
Apparently the attendant was bored. He opened one of the doors,
allowing them to step into the brightly lit ballroom.

“Sexcapades?” Evan leaned close to Dro Tar
so she could hear him over the din. “I’m not familiar with the
term.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

Dro Tar enjoyed the exhibition on two
levels. The bold displays of sex toys and adult entertainments
fueled her imagination, but she found Evan’s mixture of wonder and
horror even more amusing. He moved along the rows in a dazed
stupor, eyes wide, lips compressed as if he were in pain.

“Have you figured it out yet?” She
smirked.

“Theses are the human equivalent of Ontarian
simulators.” His voice was remarkably calm given his flushed cheeks
and clenched fists.

She paused in front of a booth displaying
DVDs and video games. As if the front covers weren’t provocative
enough, many of the back covers featured couples performing sexual
acts in acrobatic positions.

The man behind the table made a sweeping
gesture with one of his hands. “These are all pretty vanilla. If
your tastes are more exotic, just let me know what you’re looking
for.”

“We’re just looking.”

The man shrugged and turned his attention
toward more interested customers.

The next display was larger than the others.
A small crowd had gathered outside a red velvet rope. Bright lights
illuminated the area and elaborate cameras were mounted on wheeled
carts. Were they transmitting the demonstration or recording it for
posterity?

“As you can see the variations are only
limited by your imagination.” The spokeswoman wore a formfitting
business suit. A push-up bra ensured her breasts swelled well into
view between the wide lapels of her jacket. She motioned toward the
scantily clad couple at her side. The woman was suspended in a
semi-reclining position by what looked like an oversized swing. A
muscular man stood between her widespread thighs, thrusting his
pelvis against hers.

“I do believe they’re taping an
infomercial.” Dro Tar chuckled and moved toward the next booth.
Evan followed, his steps clumsy and halting. “Are you all right?”
Knowing he’d spent the past fifteen solar cycles locked away like a
monk, she’d hoped to shake him up a bit. He didn’t look shaken, he
looked physically ill. “What’s the matter?”

“Humans…broadcast emotion…when they
are…”

She hooked her arm around his elbow, shocked
by the heat radiating off his skin. “Every person in this room is
broadcasting emotions?”

“They are broadcasting
lust
.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t.” He grimaced, tension
rippling along his arm. “The sheer force of their lust has eroded
my shields. Every thought, every desire is bombarding my mind
and—stimulating my senses.” He jerked her close, his jaw clenched
as he panted through his teeth. “Get me out of here.”

She hurried him toward the nearest exit.
Blessed quiet enveloped them as they stepped into the chilly
corridor. Looking up and down the hallway, she realized she wasn’t
sure where they were. “As soon as we check into our room, you can
take a cold shower.”

“I’ll never make it that far.” He grasped
her wrist and pulled her toward a doorway across the hall. A large
oval table identified the space as a conference room. He tried the
handle. The door was locked.

“Can’t you zap us inside?”

He shook his head and moved farther down the
hallway. Each door he tried was locked, the rooms vacant. His
fingers grew hotter by the second, and harsh, gasping breaths
expanded his chest. She’d had no idea he’d react so adversely to
the stimuli. He was only mildly empathic. A startled squeak
replaced her apology as he dragged her around a corner and finally
found an unlocked door.

Utilitarian stairs angled up and down from
the small concrete landing on which they stood. With frantic
aggression, he pressed her against the rough wall. Heat radiated
off his body. His mouth covered hers, his lips firm and demanding.
She tilted her head and opened for him. He pulled her arms over her
head and eased one of his knees between her thighs, lifting her
nearly off the floor.

Hot and moist, his breath filled her mouth
and fanned her lips. She waited for the gathering, the familiar
stirring of energy.

“I can’t diffuse it with a liplink.” His
voice was a throaty growl. “I need…to release…”

Keeping her pinned against the wall with his
lower body, he tore his T-shirt off over his head. He reached for
the hem of her shirt and she grabbed his wrists. “You are not going
to—”

“You think I would take you against a cold
concrete wall?” Equal parts insult and hurt tore through his voice.
“I want far more than that for us. I always did.”

“Evan.” Tenderness shouldered past her
uncertainty. They had come so close to forging that rare and
wonderful connection so few ever found. She ached for all they’d
lost, all that might have been.