“Do I need to remind you I’m not the one with all the Lucas issues?”
He wasn’t trying to be hurtful, but his words hit me like a sucker punch all the same. We’d had an argument about Lucas before leaving Louisiana. After Desmond had proposed, we’d gone to my uncle, Callum, for his blessing. I’d hoped that would be the end of the ordeal, but Callum had explained I was still married to Lucas in the eyes of the pack. In order to marry Desmond I would need Lucas to declare I was no longer his. It wasn’t an ideal situation.
“You think he’d be receptive to a divorce right now?” I joked, hoping to keep the mood light.
Desmond offered me a tight smile. “‘Hey, Lucas, New York is on fire and the dead have come back to life. How do you feel about me marrying Secret?’”
“You’re right. It’s not the best pitch.”
As far as inopportune conversations went, now was a terrible time to talk about our wedding. But the truth was, I wanted to think about anything other than the current situation. I had to believe Desmond
and I would come through this, and we would have our opportunity to be together when all the dust settled. Maybe it was selfish of me to focus on that, but I felt the universe owed me something positive, considering all the crap I’d been put through.
“Maybe wait until after he’s agreed to help us before you ask,” Desmond suggested.
“Aren’t you the one who claimed he was more reasonable than I gave him credit for?”
“Yes. But you can’t deny you two bring out the worst in each other.”
Desmond’s brother Dominick had said something similar to me last time I’d been with Lucas, and it was a harsh truth. For two people who had been destined by fate and a metaphysical soul-bond to be together, we couldn’t have been more poorly matched. Lucas was selfish and obstinate, and I was too willful and independent to make an obedient queen.
And he would always put matters of the pack before me, which was his job as king, but he did it often enough it became detrimental. He didn’t know how to delegate tasks to others and kept the weight of the whole pack firmly on his shoulders.
He was one of the youngest pack kings in a century, next to Callum, and I think he felt the burden of proving himself too much. His father had been beloved, and it was an awful lot to live up to.
Damn, was I starting to empathize with my shitty husband?
The end of the world was giving me some unsettling perspective on things.
Rain Hotel, where Lucas lived in the city, was a few scant blocks from the vampire council’s headquarters. I was tempted to tell the vamps in the group to go to ground there, but I didn’t know if I’d see them again if I did.
Since Lucas and his father both recognized the wisdom of catering to a supernatural crowd, all Rain Industries hotels were set up with light-safe curtains. It was a lesser-known perk, but something that became a big selling point if exposure to the sun would burn you into a pile of ash.
It took us about twenty minutes to walk from the Dirt Hog to Rain Hotel, and by the time the glossy black façade of the hotel appeared, I was feeling the drag of sunrise. We still had some time, but the blackness of night was starting to peter out, replaced with a lighter blue-purple shade. Soon the sun would peek her head up over the buildings, but by then we’d be safely tucked away.
I hoped.
The front glass doors of the hotel were shattered, but when we stepped into the lobby, we found the place abandoned. Several vases of flowers had been knocked to the floor, and the check-in desks had been ransacked, but apart from that the place was untouched.
If the hotel had been compromised, though, it meant the guestrooms might not be secure. I’d hoped we could spend the night in the regular suites before approaching Lucas, but it looked like our best shot at safety would be going to the king himself.
“Do you have your card?” I asked Desmond.
It had been quite some time since Desmond had lived under the same roof with Lucas. A rift had formed between them thanks to me, and it had never healed properly. The former best friends now only spoke and saw each other when it related to pack business.
Or business-business, I supposed, since Desmond was the head of one of Lucas’s architectural firms.
Desmond pulled out his wallet and withdrew a familiar-looking Rain Hotel keycard. I had an identical one buried in a drawer at home somewhere. I didn’t know if my code still worked, but Desmond’s certainly would.
“This is going to be a tight squeeze.” He held the door open and ushered everyone inside.
Eleven grown adults all wedged into a cramped metal box was enough to set my claustrophobia going haywire. I breathed deeply and kept my eyes shut as Desmond entered his personal access code and the elevator whirred to life.
Wait.
“How the hell is the elevator still working?” I asked, wondering how it had only occurred to me as strange once we were already in it.
“All the Rain hotels have substantial back-up generators,” Desmond explained. “After the 2003 blackout, Lucas’s father insisted on the upgrade. A few people were stuck in the elevators then, and he didn’t want anyone else to have to deal with that kind of experience. Looks like we owe Jeremiah Rain a big thank you.”