Order of the Omni: A Supernatural Romantic Suspense Novel (The Immortalies Book 1) by Penny Knight (reading books for 6 year olds TXT) 📕

redness creeps up her neck. It’s normal for a woman to blush at the sight of me. But this was something else. There is suffering in her eyes, not just the physiological type which I see buried beneath. This is clearly caused by physical pain she is fighting. Right now.

“Steve says you had an unfavourable encounter outside the hotel?” I ask even if I’ve already viewed the surveillance tapes, and the question is pointless. What I learn, is not. Her hand rubs the back of her neck and she winces. Interesting. Or is that just me searching for any sign to confirm what I want to believe. A human trait that’s hard to kick. One that has proved lethal from the many unnecessary wars and years upon years of deliberate misuse.

“Uh, yeah. No, I mean it was fine.” She shrugs and stands. Her first response to me nowhere in sight. It appears she can’t get away from me fast enough. That is not an option.

“It was nuts,” Steve says. “The woman grabbed her, then she fell flat on her arse,” my employee adds. She shoots him a look of annoyance and I fight a smirk.

“Are you a guest in the hotel?” I ask and hope she says yes. She looks down to the right, with a slightly furrowed brow. This anomaly in front of me is ever more intriguing.

She looks to the left, and processes whatever bullshit she’s about to say to me. My question was easy, so taking even a second to consider the answer piques my interest.

“Yes... I mean, I was intending to be.” Her demeanour has changed. Instead of ready to flee, she straightens, her voice turning controlled. “I was meant to. But, it looks like there’s been a mix up. So I don’t think I will be staying.” She doesn’t realise whatever mix up there is, and for my staff’s sake I hope it’s not on our end, that she is talking to the one person who can, no, will fix it for her.

“Well, this works well. I am actually here to offer you a stay at the hotel, complimentary. For the troubles you encountered outside,” I say.

Her eyebrows raise in surprise, then eyes flicker down to the right. Her head turns slightly. It’s then I catch the hint of a small device in her ear. Small, but definitely there. A listening device. Maybe a cop, perhaps? Whatever the reason, I stand taller. She is up to something. This could complicate things, if it’s in direct conflict with me.

She nibbles the inside of her lip, and my previous thoughts replaced with the flicker of her tongue, catching a different part of my attention. Breaking my concentration and throwing me off kilter. This is unnerving. I don’t get affected like this. It has to be the mark, surely.

“Well,” she says sweetly. I cock my head to the side, enthralled to whatever may come next. “I have one of those things...” She searches for the right word with pursed lips. “You could call it an OCD thing. I have this new assistant. He tries hard, but he gets preoccupied easily, shiny objects and all.” She offers a small giggle; it seems forced, but still endearing.

“Yes, continue,” I urge her.

“He booked the wrong room. I have terrible anxiety and need to stay on the seventh floor. It’s the number, you know. Seven,” she shrugs. “It’s hard to explain, but I only feel safe on seven.”

“And there are no rooms available on seven?” I ask. She doesn’t need to answer, I know there is. Two, in fact. There’s nothing I don’t know about in my hotel. Well, except for today, and her motivations of being here. This rubbish she is feeding me is just that. There is more to her story. Whatever that is, it’s on the seventh floor.

“I’m not sure. I think he’s trying to sort it out.”

“Easy. I can talk with the reservation staff. Seventh floor, correct?” This is turning out better than expected. If I can just get her in a room, the next step would be to find a way to keep her here.

“Yes,” she says. Her voice is terse, so whatever ailment she has seems to have gotten worse. “Oh, and I would really feel more comfortable facing the hills. Again, it’s one of those things.”

Whatever she wants. A room with a view. Sure.

“And a SPA,” she almost yells. Embarrassment flashes over her face and tries again. “Oh, and I would like a spa,” she says softly, about five seconds from fainting.

What is wrong with her?

I try to pull the answers out, searching in her eyes. To forge deeper inside her being. Our eyes are locked. The air thickens. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest builds an overwhelming urge to have her.

Right here. Right now.

This must be it. She has to be the one. The mark is real. How else can I explain my hormones acting like a teenager. After all these years, I’ve become a master at deterring physical attraction. Being the ruler of the Immortalies comes first. And it’s the first weakness of any man. But this chemistry is electric and consuming.

For her, though, she looks ill.

Her brows furrow, and with a shake of her head, she looks away. Breaking our connection. Disappointment washes through my veins. I want more. Much more.

“Leave it to me.” My voice comes out hoarse.

“Ok, thanks.” She doesn’t give me her eyes again as she walks right past me. I close mine as her scent infiltrates my senses. When she is out of earshot, I turn to my employee by my side. “Make it happen,” I almost growl.

I watch as she settles at her table until her companion, a skinny young guy with shoulder length sandy hair and a white t-shirt, sits across from her.

It has begun.

I retreat to one of my offices in the hotel. There’s many. This one’s behind security and reception. The need to be close, overpowering.

A knock sounds