Embrace the Power: A Paranormal Romance (The Blood Rose Series Book 9) (27 page)

She rose up then turned around on her knees, careful to keep her coffee from spilling. She gasped softly since the entire lake was lavender. She knew her backside was fully exposed, but she didn’t care. This was worth it. “Oh, it’s so beautiful.”

“It certainly is.” She glanced back at him and saw that he was looking at her tush, his brows raised as he brought his cup to his lips. She was pretty sure she saw the tip of his tongue emerge before he sipped.

She chuckled softly. So, this was what she had missed through the years.

He waved her in his direction. “Come sit on my lap. Or better yet—” She watched him set his cup on a nearby table, then levitate. He moved toward the bed, caught up a knit gray afghan, cast it over her shoulders then picked her up in his arms.

She chuckled as she held her cup steady, looking up at him as he maneuvered her slowly through the air and back to his seat. He had her covered up and situated on his lap as though he’d done it a thousand times. And not once had her coffee sloshed in the cup.

Rosamunde leaned her head against his shoulder and couldn’t keep the tears from touching her cheeks. She’d never known this kind of relationship before.

As surreptitiously as possible, she wiped at her face. She was completely overcome. Maybe it was the sky full of a deepening lavender light, now graying at the edges.

Or maybe it was being cradled in Stone’s arms and so thoughtfully covered with the soft knit afghan.

Or maybe the cardamom flavored coffee.

She didn’t know, except that somewhere in her memories she could recall sitting on her father’s lap in a similar way as a very young child. This felt like family to her, the way a family was meant to be.

But her father had been killed while protecting the Fae Council in her kingdom.

A thousand years was a long time to be without kin of any kind. She had Lorelei, of course, though she rarely got to see her. Maybe she’d make a greater connection once Margetta was defeated.

“I can feel you thinking very hard.”

She smiled and sighed. “I suppose I am. Your kindness, Stone, has undone me. I want you to know that straight out. I’ve been alone for a very long time and I forgot what this could be like.”

“But you had boyfriends occasionally?”

“Only a few times. My rank made long-term relationships very difficult.”

When she finished her coffee, she extended her arm across him to set the empty cup on the side table. Leaning back once more, she looked up at him. “I love that you brought me to your chair so I could see the sunset. This has meant a great deal to me, more than you can know.”

He looked very serious. “I can guess. And I’m sorry I held such harsh opinions of you.”

“But how could you have known the truth?”

“I would have never guessed, especially that you were Aralynn.”

“Now you know us both.”

“That I do.” He kissed her forehead. “By the way, I contacted Vojalie when I got up an hour ago. She very kindly brought you some clothes and toiletries from both the castle and the cottage.”

She leaned her head against Stone’s shoulder once more, but her thoughts took an entirely different direction. “You’re coordinating the Combined Forces with Mastyr Ian and Mastyr Zane. Am I right?”

“Yup. They’re my two right-hands.”

“Have you spoken with them this evening?”

“Of course.”

“How fares the war? What’s been happening since last night?”

He chuckled softly.

“What?” She sat up a little and craned her neck to meet his gaze.

“War talk. I like it, but you’ve surprised me again.”

She dipped her chin. “You have to remember that my life has been dedicated to preserving Ferrenden Peace and keeping Margetta out. I’ve followed all the Realm newspapers from the time they were invented. So, what’s the latest?”

“There’s good news and bad. The good news is that the realms are quiet. Also, Delia says we’re all set for the gala later tonight.”

“She’s worked hard on the event.”

“She has. I’m sure it will be, um, eventful.”

She chuckled. “Not exactly your thing, is it?”

“Not quite. But I know it’s a necessary celebration for all the realms, so I’m happy to do my part.”

She thought for a moment. “So what’s the bad news?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, the same as the good news: All the realms are quiet. There is no Invictus sign. Anywhere.”

At that, Rosamunde sat up and shifted her bottom just enough to face him. She had to grab the edges of the afghan to keep from exposing her breasts again. “What? Not even a few rogue wraith-pairs? Oh, no.”

“We figure the Ancient Fae is rounding up her troops.”

“So, we really are building to a final battle.”

“Yes, that’s what we believe. Though, given events of last night, we’re all in agreement that she’s still after me. Any thoughts on why?”

She loved that he asked her opinion. “It has to be about your ability to channel the elf-lord power. Margetta must know this about you, maybe through her fae prescience, and she wants you in her arsenal.”

She slid off his lap, tugging the afghan around her. “If Margetta’s winding up for a showdown, then I want to be ready, because who knows what she has planned for tonight.” She glanced around. “So, where are the clothes Vojalie brought for me?”

He gestured to the opening to the left of the bed. The entire wall was made of a beautiful gray stone. “I have a small dressing room off the bathroom. I’ve laid out some of your clothes and the rest I hung up on the far side of the closet. You can arrange things as you like.”

“Thank you.”

Rosamunde tugged the afghan tight around her as she made her way into the bathroom. Once she passed through the opening, there was only one way to turn, which of course was away from the lake. Every room of Stone’s house faced the lake. There weren’t even windows on the non-lake side.

She saw the natural wood-framed entrance to the dressing room. As she passed through, she was struck with the smell of leather, which made sense since Stone had a large collection of Guardsmen gear off to the right.

She let the afghan slide off her shoulders then folded it up. Seeing which clothes Vojalie had brought, she retraced her steps and made her way to the walk-in, stone-lined shower. She didn’t hesitate to turn on the two opposing heads and it didn’t take long for the hot water to arrive. Adjusting the temp, she stepped beneath both sprays then turned in a slow circle. The water felt wonderful, a kind of massage after two harried nights of battling wraith-pairs, then tussling with Stone.

Now they were lovers and she served as his blood rose.

As she washed her hair, she knew it would take so little to bond with him. She would barely have to say the word ‘yes’ and the deed would be done. She could still feel her mating vibration deep within her body and how it seemed to be on a constant hunt for Stone as though this part of her recognized him as her mate and was missing him.

After she rinsed the soap from her hair, she pressed a hand to her chest. She could also feel that she was slowly building a new supply for Stone, even though she could tell that for the present he was satiated. The whole thing was as intriguing as it was unsettling.

She wondered why the blood rose phenomenon had come into existence in the first place? Even as she mentally posed the question, her fae instincts already seemed to know the answer. The increase in essential power as a result of the bond aided each couple in defeating whatever enemy was present at the time.

In this case, her Aunt Margetta.

She found Stone’s crème rinse and applied it liberally. They shared the managing of long hair in common. She loved Stone’s thick wavy black hair.

She loved his tattoos and his lean muscled body.

His eyes.

His shoulders.

His tight ass.

And she’d loved looking into his mossy-green eyes last night when he’d brought her to the peak and beyond.

Her body warmed up and set to tingling all over again. She’d truly never dreamed sex could be this amazing.

Through the years, she’d had an occasional lover, but she’d always pretended to be someone else. When the man discovered her identity, he usually found an excuse to disappear.

She didn’t blame any of them and the truth was, she’d never fallen in love.

Now she was with Stone and part of her knew it all made sense.

Yet, as she stepped under the spray once more, she also knew she couldn’t complete the bond with him since she had more than one difficulty still standing in the way.

She pondered the secret of his birth parents. The compulsion to tell him what she knew became a powerful force within her. Given his hot bloodedness and his strong beliefs in the right way of doing things, he would see it as a betrayal that she hadn’t told him.

But how could she have done so? When she’d learned the truth herself, Davido had sworn her to secrecy.

Finally clean and with all the crème rinse out of her hair, she shut the water off. She’d long accepted the curse of the occasional entrapment vision that Margetta would set for her and she’d learned to settle those horror-filled visions into a locked-up place deep within her mind.

Each vision had meant the death of beloved realm-folk. Without jeopardizing the lives of the entire population of the Nine Realms, she’d had to live with the terrible foreknowledge of those acts Margetta had planned to inflict on innocent people.

The first few times it had happened, she’d nearly lost her mind. Only a series of counseling sessions with Davido, and later Vojalie, had kept her sane. They’d each helped her to build a personal, if painful, vault in which these visions lived. She’d had to separate herself from the terrorist that was her aunt, to keep the blame firmly on Margetta’s shoulders, rather than be consumed by her own guilt.

She had no intention of telling Stone about these visions, at least not if she could possibly help it. He wouldn’t understand, especially since one of those visions had been of Charborne and the subsequent slaughter of half the villagers and outlying farmers, including his adopted troll parents.

She’d long since forgiven herself for what she had been unable to control and hoped she’d never have to confess her foreknowledge to Stone. The man was a warrior vampire. How could he possibly understand her need for complete restraint?

He wouldn’t. He would have believed he could have done something, which meant if he ever learned this secret, he’d never forgive her for holding back.

She felt weighed down again with the cost of being Queen of Ferrenden Peace and a conduit for the elf-lord power. Sometimes she wondered who she would have been if she’d never ventured with her baby goats into the mist and her mother had lived. Of course that was a fool’s game and she quickly set it aside.

This was her life. She must deal with it as it was.

~ ~ ~

The moment full-dark arrived and his fragile vampire sensitivity to light was no longer at risk, Stone stripped out of his jeans, grabbed a swim towel from a stock he kept near the sliding glass doors, then headed outside to the end of the dock.

By then, he’d heard his hair-dryer whirring and knew it would take some time for Rosamunde’s long and very curly hair to dry.

So, a swim it was.

He made for the far shore and swam in long easy strokes, swinging his head from the water every now and then to drag in some air. As he drew close to the far end of the lake and his fingertips touched the mossy rocks, he flipped in the water and headed back.

It wasn’t long before a very fine euphoria began moving through his veins. He loved to swim, especially when things got chaotic and tough. Ploughing water always helped.

Halfway back on his second full lap, he began to slow down. He wanted his breathing almost normal by the time he reached the dock.

When he finally pulled himself from the water, he saw that Rosamunde was busy in the kitchen, the woman who never cooked.

Uh-oh.

He grabbed the towel he’d left for himself, dried off then wrapped it around his hips.

When he entered the house, she was pulling bread and ham from the fridge. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought I’d make a couple of sandwiches. I can at least do that.”

Sandwiches. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good idea.”

He smiled, aware of the strange amount of affection floating around in his chest for the woman who had so recently been on his shit-list.

He took a moment to really look at her. Her violet eyes were large and extraordinary, her brows softly arched and her lips full. She was a beautiful woman. She’d managed to tame her hair with two braids then secured the mass in a Guardsman-type woven clasp, the design intended to keep long warrior hair in place during battle.

She was dressed for war as well in what he recognized as Aralynn’s battle gear, down to the oh-so-sexy snug boots she wore.

As she set the ham and bread down on the cutting board, she glanced at him. “Is anything wrong?”

He moved toward her quickly and took her chin in hand then kissed her on the lips. “Not a thing. I contacted Harris and got the latest. The realms are still without incident. Okay that I shower now?”

“Of course. Would you like a sandwich? I mean maybe you’d prefer something else.”

At that, his brows rose. He almost teased her with a comment about her soft life in the castle and didn’t she wish she had her chef with her, then thought the better of it. From what she’d told him, her life had been anything but, more like a prisoner of war.

“I’d love a sandwich.” He then headed in the direction of the bathroom. Before showering, he went into his dressing room and checked his tux. He’d had it specially made for tonight’s gala. His Italian leather shoes were ready, his cuff links, everything was in order.

He smiled as he thought about taking Rosamunde as his date. He knew she was going. At the time, he’d felt obligated to invite her. Now, he was beyond grateful he had and he’d ask her before the night got too busy.

A few minutes later, he’d just finished toweling off, when he heard Rosamunde call to him. “Stone?”

At first, he thought maybe the meal was ready. But something in her tone made him grow very still.