Falling from the Light (The Night Runner Series Book 3) by Regan Summers Read Free Book Online Page B

security specifications as she can, but the guests are under no such restrictions. It would be best to avoid them.”
    “Why a vampire hotel?” I asked. “We’d blend better with humans.” Mickey stuck out her lower lip and I scowled at her.
    “In the event this…negotiation becomes unfavorable, you will be safer there than in the open. Chev owes a debt to Malcolm and nobody would dare attack Tenth World, not without an army.” He smiled blandly. “Our intelligence has revealed no approaching army.”
    “It’s not a negotiation.”
    “Miss Franklin, these are vampires. Each word has dual meaning. Each action is strategic. Your every breath is a negotiation.”
    Unable to meet his patronizing smile, I turned toward the window and swallowed a hard lump. I’d thought I was doing well. Not blending, certainly not belonging. But I’d been navigating the world of vampires pretty successfully. But I’d never be able to think that way, never be able to scheme my way around my honest reactions. And one day soon that could be dangerous.
    Had I said something that triggered Bronson’s attack on Mal? Had I forgotten to say something, to show the Master something that could have spared him that pain? Thurston glanced at me, then examined Petr as though he’d just become aware of him. We slowed and turned off the highway. I wouldn’t think about Malcolm being hurt or any other terrible thing. He was smart and, for once, he had plenty of backup. Everything would go fine. We’d move on, farther north, and time would pass and he’d be released. And then…we’d think about that when we got there.
    I squirmed and rubbed my palms against my thighs. I hated riding in cars. Driving was one thing. Driving was control and satisfaction wrapped in horsepower. Riding was being stuck in a box, subject to the whims and mistakes of someone else.
    The car roared through a yellow light before swinging into a parking lot. A single window was lit on the second level of a three-story building decorated with thick, white columns and surrounded by palm trees. Someone had gotten up early to meet us.
    “Is this the hotel?” I asked. It seemed kind of…puny.
    “This is a spa.” Petr pulled on a fedora and climbed out of the car. “Mr. Kelly advised you were in need of a makeover. I took the liberty of scheduling services.”
    Hell first, then the hotel.

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    H ell might have been an exaggeration since the spa did have an excellent array of cosmetics. But it was starting to feel like purgatory when, a hundred million hours later, Mickey leaned down beside me and smiled at our combined reflection in the giant mirror. It was a startling and impressive change. My hair had been stripped of the green and re-dyed a dark, glossy brown. Extensions added enough length that, instead of ending at my nape, my hair now flowed to my elbows. I’d rejected the “streamlining” of my eyebrows, but my short nails were even, shaped, and painted dark purple. I looked soft and pretty and a touch sophisticated, and I couldn’t wait to get out of the plush leather chair.
    “You got this, Petr?” I slung my bag over my shoulder, then had to fix my new hair when it tangled in the strap. He looked up from where he stood at the front desk, tapping away on his phone. The makeover wasn’t my idea, so no way was I paying for it.
    “It’s already taken care of. We’ll go to the hotel from here.”
    I didn’t want to follow the typed schedule from his folio, and I sure as shit didn’t want to ride in his car anymore. I’d rent a damn dune buggy if I had to. That might actually be fun.
    “You know, how about this? We’ve just landed and I’m dying for some of the comforts of home. You know, fast food, movie popcorn, lingerie shopping.”
    “Yeesss,” Mickey chimed in. “Let us watch a romantic comedy then buy thongs that match. I’m thinking argyle.”
    “Purple argyle,” I suggested before turning back to Petr. “So how about you give me the