Free The Siren's Dance by Amber Belldene Page B

wholesome scene with his presence. “Who is he?”
    “The instructor’s boyfriend and business partner. And a jerk, but otherwise he claims no similarity to Demyan.”
    From what she could see, he bore none at all to her former teacher. He was shorter, stockier, and the thick hair falling to his chin was fair. Then Yuchenko’s little joke penetrated her preoccupied mind. This man and Stas shared the trait of both being jerks.
    She cracked a smile, giving her attention to Sergey, who was by all evidence completely free of that particular flaw. “What now?”
    “I’m not sure.” He rubbed at the back of his neck as if the muscles there had grown tense.
    Stas had liked her to knead the knots of tension there--one of the only times he’d permitted her to touch him.
    She glanced down at her translucent hands and clenched them into fists, surprised by the desire to touch the puppy in the same way.
    Sergey dropped his own hand to the parking brake. “I know I said I wouldn’t go until later, but my mom has lived in Odessa almost her whole life. Maybe she’ll know something useful.”
    Anya barely stopped herself from shouting no . She didn’t want to be alone again, even for a little while, after the experience of having a companion--being seen and spoken to--the prospect chilled. Some part of her couldn’t help but fear he may never return.
    But her best--maybe only--lead had just fallen flat. If his mother could provide one, being alone was worth it.
    “Yes, of course, go.” But please come back fast , she added silently.
    In only a few minutes, he was pulling up to the white curb outside the Hotel Bristol’s baroque entryway. Anya ghosted through the passenger door of the car.
    Sergey grabbed Gregor’s ring and pocketed it before tossing the car keys to the valet. “Keep her here for me. I’ll be right back.”
    She floated inside the lobby. The stunning opulence left her frozen, suspended in midair as she took in the enormous room, bright with gilt and peacock-blue drapery. An icy wave passed through her, sending her into a choking panic. But then a man’s gray head bobbed away from her--he’d walked right through her. He shivered and rubbed his upper arms through his suit jacket.
    Anya propelled herself toward Sergey, trying to catch up. As he checked in, she twirled, inspecting each enormous chandelier and estimating the height of the mirrors that reached from the floor to well over the patrons’ heads. Since Gregor’s ring was safely tucked in Yuchenko’s pocket and no one could see her, she gaped freely at the extravagance.
    Their room--and apparently they were sharing because ghosts didn’t need a bed--was done in warm, soothing colors, but was equally luxurious. Behind the privacy of the door, Sergey dangled the signet ring, and she whooshed up to wear the thing.
    Relief took over his face when she became visible, and a flutter answered in her ghostly chest. He was probably just worried he was going to lose her and have to explain to Gregor. But it was nice to pretend he was happy to see her, even if he was about to leave her alone again, for who knew how long.
    “I’ll turn something on the TV for you,” he offered. The flat black rectangle hung on the wall like a painting. Along with Sergey’s mobile telephone the size of a deck of cards, the newfangled technology was astonishing.
    “No, thanks.” She should have been grateful, but she could only manage to sound sullen in the face of his imminent departure. The scenery had changed, but she was about to be alone with her slipper again. Same as always.
    “I’ll turn the sound off, but putting on a show makes me feel better about leaving you alone.” He began to flip through the stations.
    “I said no.”
    But Inspector Puppy ignored her as if he knew what was best for her. She tried not to be mad, tried not to look, but the images that flashed on the screen were so colorful, so captivating. A busy street in an Asian country. A vast cruise