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

by Caris Roane

  “Do you know why he used to do this? Didn’t it seem odd?”

  “I asked him about it later on. He said he knew I’d be a mastyr one day and he wanted to be sure I was protected.”

  “Davido is a good man and one of the best husbands I’ve ever known.”

  “He’s very devoted to his wife.”

  “That he is.”

  The conversation continued in this vein for a good long while. He asked her about castle life and she asked him his favorite swimming spots. He preferred his lake, but he also enjoyed the chain of grottos at the Sea of Vermed. She confessed to swimming naked in a small spring at the western edge of Ferrenden Peace. Teleporting made it possible. If anyone ever came near the spring while she was paddling around, she simply took herself with a thought back to the castle.

  No, she’d never driven a car.

  Yes, he’d owned several Harleys over the years. One of them had been stolen, maybe Joseph’s devilment.

  The hours moved swiftly by and their sharing of stories was steady except for the occasional hourly contact Stone made with Harris. Throughout the night, Tannisford remained quiet, a circumstance that continued to trouble Rosamunde. Her fae instincts told her Margetta was up to no good.

  After Stone’s final conversation with Harris, he made love to her again, only this time she remained solely as Rosamunde.

  When dawn arrived shortly after, she fell asleep in his arms.

  When she woke up the next night, she lay on her right side, in a bed that didn’t feel familiar to her. Yet it was comfortable and warm and she was naked and she didn’t want to move. The hour was late, almost full-dark. She’d slept through the day, again, which seemed incredible. She was always up at least two hours before the sun disappeared in the west.

  Yet as sleep began to roll away from her, memories surged of having made love with Stone, of all men, on the night before. He’d come to accept her as Rosamunde.

  She could smell coffee and the wonderful aroma caused her to roll on her back, flopping her arms to either side. This was heaven, nothing less. She could even forget about Ferrenden Peace, especially knowing that Vojalie and Davido were keeping watch over the veil of mist.

  She could also recall falling asleep in Stone’s arms.

  But at this thought, she frowned. She knew something about Stone’s birth parents that she wished he knew. She hated having carried around so many significant and difficult secrets all these centuries. She might need to talk to Davido about finally removing the silence-ban on who Stone’s biological parents had been. She was pretty sure most adopted kids, no matter their age, wanted to know their roots or at least to be given the opportunity to say ‘No, thank you. I don’t need to know’.

  She stared up at the natural wood rafters of the bedroom ceiling and sighed deeply. Was this really happening? Was she a blood rose? Had she fed Mastyr Stone while in her Rosamunde form? Had Stone truly accepted her?

  It all seemed so impossible, yet wonderful in an amazing way. From the time she’d battled beside him as Aralynn, she’d come to discover that she and the Mastyr of Tannisford actually shared some things in common. He was as devoted to his realm as she was to serving the people of Ferrenden Peace. She might have been given the job under extremely difficult circumstances, but never once had she questioned the value of serving as queen. She’d loved being a protector and so had Stone. Neither, it seemed, had looked back once the journey for each had begun.

  Stone arrived in the doorway, wearing jeans but no shirt. He must have showered since his long black hair was damp and he wore a towel beneath to cover his shoulders. He carried two cups of coffee.

  Without thinking, she sat up and stretched out her hands, ready to receive one of the cups. But the comforter fell away.

  Stone started for the bed, then stopped as his gaze dropped to her breasts.

  “Oops.” She lifted the comforter and caught it up under her arms to cover herself.

  He put his feet back in motion. “Don’t do that on my account.”

  But she felt heat on her cheeks again. She had such a terrible tendency to blush around Stone. As Aralynn, not so much.

  He handed her a cup and she drew it in a swift motion to her lips. In part, she wanted to cover her embarrassment but also nothing was quite as good to her as coffee first thing at night.

  She loved the unique flavor. “So this is cardamom.”

  “It’s served in one of the shops near the Com Center. They import a lot of spices from the States.”

  “Well, I love it.” She continued to sip while sitting up in Stone’s bed, still feeling very naked though she had the comforter wrapped around her.

  He sat down in a wood and leather chair angled across from the bed, which meant it faced the windows and the emerging night sky. He leaned back and with his elbows on the dark wood armrests and the cup in both hands, he sipped along with her. He didn’t seem inclined to talk but fixed his gaze out on the lake.

  With the low, wrought iron headboard positioned against the wall of windows, her view was of wood paneling, nice in its way but not the view she preferred. She craned her neck and saw that the protective day-shutters were already half raised, and the sky was filled with a beautiful lavender sunset.

  She appreciated that she could look at this level of light, as could Stone, without suffering. She wouldn’t be able to tolerate but a few seconds standing in such light, but now that the sun was behind the hills, she could marvel at the beauty of the sunset.

  “Why do you have the bed facing away from the lake?” She took another sip, the mug still in both hands. The warmth felt good against her fingers.

  “It seemed right to me because this chair suits me better for viewing when evening comes. Once I’m done batting for the night, I’m usually dead asleep about two seconds after my head hits the pillow. But when I wake up, I like to sit right here.”

  She wanted to see the lake at this hour as well, with the sun behind distant tree-studded hills and soft wispy clouds catching the last of the color. So, she made the decision to let her embarrassment go.

  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 s
ee 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 he
r 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.