Kissing Sin (Riley Jenson Guardian 2)

He glanced around. "We cannot have this conversation here." His voice was little more than a stroke of sound. "There's too many ears."

"So why not just touch their minds and tell them all to ignore us?"

"The room is full of psychic-deadeners, in case you hadn't noticed."

I hadn't, but then, I rarely used my telepathic skills so there was nothing unusual in that. "Since when have psychic-deadeners worried you?"

"They don't, but they do stop you from chatting back."

Which I would have thought he'd actually enjoy. Still, we did need to talk about Mrs. Hunt, so we'd have to do so with the very link Quinn had tried to use moments ago. While the deadeners meant normal telepathic channels wouldn't work, the bond we'd created worked in a whole different area of the brain, and owed its existence to the fact we'd once shared blood.

With a slight grimace, I imagined that psychic door in my mind and threw it open. It was certainly easier to do than the first few times I'd tried.

Why do you ask about Mrs. Hunt? he asked immediately.

His mind-voice was as rich and as sexy as his regular voice, flowing through every corner of my being like a hot summer breeze.

I found the scent I remembered, only it belonged to Mrs. Hunt. And Mrs. Hunt's scent is very similar to the scent of a man from my past.

Then you must have the wrong scent. No two persons have the same scent. Besides, it was a man who abused you in the center, not a woman.

Don't you think I'm more than aware of that fact? I thanked the waitress as she placed an entree plate in front of me, and picked up my knife and fork. I'm just telling you what my senses ate telling me. I can't help it if it's not making sense.

I tucked into my meal as I tried to remember the name of the man who had smelled like Mrs. Hunt, but my memories refused to cooperate. Maybe he'd been a one-night stand. I didn't do it regularly, but I was a wolf, and I didn't not do it, either.

Once I'd finished my meal and the waitress had come back and collected the plate, I asked, How well do you know the Hunts?

He frowned slightly, and somehow managed to carry on a polite conversation with the woman sitting on the other side of him as he said to me, I've only ever seen them at chanty events like this.

And has Mrs. Hunt always looked so... dowdy?

His quick glance was somewhat irritated. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and not always evident on the surface.

Says the man who is never seen with someone less than stunning.

Quinn's amusement shimmered through me. I have an image to uphold.

I snorted softly. In so many ways, this old vampire was so typically male in his responses. And a human male at that.

What pack does Mrs. Hunt come from?

I would have said brown, except I've never seen a wolf from a brown pack with eyes quite like hers. But there again, I wasn't exactly well traveled. Quinn, on the other hand, was.

He sipped his wine, flashed a toe-curling smile at the waitress as she picked up his uneaten plate, then gave me a somewhat darker look. And had me wishing he'd flash a few toe-curling smiles my way occasionally.

Mrs. Hunt isn't a werewolf. His tone suggested I was an idiot to believe otherwise.

But while my memories might be whacked, my instincts were working just fine. Trust me on this - she's a wolf.

No, she's not.

Well, the Mrs. Hunt in this room is. I paused to look around the room. She had to be on one of the tables near the stage, which I couldn't see thanks to a pillar. Could she be a doppelganger of some kind?

Doppelgangers are ghostly replicas, not human tissue.

You know what I mean.

Yes. He paused. If she's a wolf, then she's obviously not the real Mrs. Hunt. The question is, when did the exchange take place?