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A Kiss Of Shadows :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 191 из 338She watched Barinthus with hungry eyes, and I spoke without thinking, using words to acknowledge and break the connection with the girl.
I leaned in close, and said, "The picture you have in your mind of him nude."
She started to protest, then let her words die, eyes large, licking her lower lip. She finally just nodded.
"You're not doing him justice."
Her eyes got even bigger, and she stared at Barinthus as he stood by the elevators.
I was still picking up her emotions. It happened sometimes, like picking up random bits of television or radio signal. But my bandwidth was narrow: lust images, mostly. Random lust images, and only from humans—I'd never gotten a flash from any other fey. I never understood why. "Want me to ask him to take off his coat so you can see better?"
That made her blush, and the image she'd built up in her mind crumbled under her embarrassment. Her mind was just a series of jumbles now. I was freed from her thoughts, her emotions.
I'd been told by one of the old fertility gods at the Seelie Court that being able to see other people's lust images was a useful tool if you were seeking priests and priestesses for your temple. People with strong lust could be used in ceremonies, the sexual energy harnessed and magnified so that their lust could be imparted to others. It had once been assumed that lust equated fertility. Unfortunately, not.
If lust equaled reproduction, the fey would have populated the world by now, or so the old stories go. The desk clerk would be so disappointed to discover that Barinthus was celibate. If he'd been staying in the hotel, I might have warned him about her. She struck me as the type who just might surprise him in his room after hours. But Barinthus would be back at the mound by nightfall. No worries.
Jenkins was now standing by the elevators, leaning his back against the wall, smiling. He was trying to talk to Barinthus as Galen and I walked up to them. Barinthus was ignoring him as only a deity can: with a total disregard, as if Jenkins's voice was the buzzing of some unimportant insect. It was beyond disdain. It was as if, for Barinthus, the reporter truly did not exist.
This was an ability I lacked, and envied.
"Well, Meredith, fancy meeting you here." Jenkins managed to make his voice both cheerful and cruel.
I tried ignoring him as Barinthus was, but knew that if the elevator didn't come soon, I'd lose.
"Merry Gentry, couldn't you do better than that? The gentry has been a euphemism for the fey for centuries."
Maybe he was still guessing, but I didn't think so.
I leaned in close, and said, "The picture you have in your mind of him nude."
She started to protest, then let her words die, eyes large, licking her lower lip. She finally just nodded.
"You're not doing him justice."
Her eyes got even bigger, and she stared at Barinthus as he stood by the elevators.
I was still picking up her emotions. It happened sometimes, like picking up random bits of television or radio signal. But my bandwidth was narrow: lust images, mostly. Random lust images, and only from humans—I'd never gotten a flash from any other fey. I never understood why. "Want me to ask him to take off his coat so you can see better?"
That made her blush, and the image she'd built up in her mind crumbled under her embarrassment. Her mind was just a series of jumbles now. I was freed from her thoughts, her emotions.
I'd been told by one of the old fertility gods at the Seelie Court that being able to see other people's lust images was a useful tool if you were seeking priests and priestesses for your temple. People with strong lust could be used in ceremonies, the sexual energy harnessed and magnified so that their lust could be imparted to others. It had once been assumed that lust equated fertility. Unfortunately, not.
If lust equaled reproduction, the fey would have populated the world by now, or so the old stories go. The desk clerk would be so disappointed to discover that Barinthus was celibate. If he'd been staying in the hotel, I might have warned him about her. She struck me as the type who just might surprise him in his room after hours. But Barinthus would be back at the mound by nightfall. No worries.
Jenkins was now standing by the elevators, leaning his back against the wall, smiling. He was trying to talk to Barinthus as Galen and I walked up to them. Barinthus was ignoring him as only a deity can: with a total disregard, as if Jenkins's voice was the buzzing of some unimportant insect. It was beyond disdain. It was as if, for Barinthus, the reporter truly did not exist.
This was an ability I lacked, and envied.
"Well, Meredith, fancy meeting you here." Jenkins managed to make his voice both cheerful and cruel.
I tried ignoring him as Barinthus was, but knew that if the elevator didn't come soon, I'd lose.
"Merry Gentry, couldn't you do better than that? The gentry has been a euphemism for the fey for centuries."
Maybe he was still guessing, but I didn't think so.