Roseblood

by Emily Shore

  “Hazelnut dark chocolate,” added Raoul, laying the tray at my feet.

  “And red wine.” I didn’t hesitate to down the glass. Not after the night I’d had. “Is there a reason you’re waiting on me hand and foot?”

  “Do I need one?” He leaned up against a nearby bookcase.

  “Sit down, Raoul.” Despite my soft voice, it wasn’t a suggestion. Raoul knew because he sighed and took a seat on the floor on the opposite side of the fireplace. I tried not to show my jealousy from how embers strayed toward him, flickering across his skin, harmless as fireflies. As usual, his posture was straight as an arrow from his time as a soldier. But I still recognized relaxation in his serene shoulders. Bronze eyes still as a sun-stroked winter sky.

  I reached for a cluster of grapes and sampled each one with chocolate. Then, I broached the subject. “We haven’t spoken about what happened earlier.”

  “Do we need to?” I hated when he answered with a question.

  “I’d like to know your thoughts.”

  “I was under the impression you were already aware of my trust in you. My faith.” He leaned his head back against the bookcase without his eyes straying from mine.

  “But you disapprove of me.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “We may disagree. But I could never disapprove of you.”

  “Damn it, Raoul. You’re way too reasonable about this!” I threw my hands up in the air, aggravated. After this night, I reserved the right to be an emotional basket case. Even if I knew I was using this as a distraction from Caroline.

  “Excuse me?”

  I stood to challenge him. “Why? Why do you have to be so polite? So perfect?”

  Raoul blinked. “I’m the furthest thing from perfect.”

  I groaned, pacing back and forth, cursing this vampire’s aggravating modesty. Opposite of every vampire I’d ever encountered, Raoul was infuriatingly humble.

  “Reina, you’ve had a long day. Perhaps we could talk about this another time. You need rest.”

  “No,” I refused, pacing more, my annoyance growing. “The last thing I want to do is sleep. For all I know, I could wake up in the middle of a wolf den.”

  Raoul propped his forearms on his knees. Even his refusal to stand calmed me. “Is that why you’re upset?”

  “Everything!” Digging my fingers into my scalp, I tried to settle my rattled nerves. “The nightmares, the prophecy, all these abilities, training, the riots, what happened earlier tonight, Skip, you…”

  “What about me?”

  Now, I dropped to my knees to look him in the eye. “Why aren’t you trying harder?” I accused him.

  Raoul chewed on his lower lip before replying, “Why would I want to put more pressure on you? You have enough already.”

  “But you’re not making it easier!” I smacked the floor next to him, blood-fire steaming the back of my neck.

  “What do you mean?”

  “In not pressuring me, you make everything harder.” My voice strained.

  Raoul let out a breathy chuckle. “What do you want, Reina? You want me to march up to Skip during your training and challenge him to a death duel? You want me to charge in on a white horse and shining armor, scoop you up, and carry you off like some damsel in distress?”

  Crap.

  When I said nothing, Raoul gestured to me, presenting his case, “You proved tonight you’re no damsel. Even if you are distressed at the moment, which is more than understandable.”

  “You always understand,” I complained and slumped down next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. He felt safe. He smelled like redwoods and herbs and earth and all the things I loved. He felt like home.

  “I try.”

  “If you don’t cut that out, I will use this…” I indicated, sporting my flames, gesturing toward the ones prancing in the fireplace like wild horses.

  Raoul touched the back of my hand, instantly extinguishing my fire. How did he do that? Where Skip empowered my abilities, Raoul tempered them. And what on earth did it all mean? Right then, I longed to speak to Caroline more than ever. I’d been so swept up in the prophecy, in my abilities that this love triangle paled. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. My Queen, my mentor, my friend had just been murdered. Grief should be natural. But all I felt was rage. But annoyance over Skip and Raoul was easier to control, to feel. I couldn’t control the shitstorm going on in Le Couvènte with me at its center.

  “How can I help you?” Asked Raoul when I didn’t follow up with anything. His fingers traced the crests of my knuckles, exploring the curves of each one. I didn’t shiver. I didn’t crave him unlike Skip.

  Inhaling deep, I concentrated on the familiar dark paths of his eyes. Deep bronze passageways bathed in shadow skin. An enigma with a mystery for a past. His hair close-cropped exposed his dark tower of a neck, the veins like silver filaments against his skin―skin soft as black swan’s down.

  “Would you give it to me?” I asked softly, my fingers tiptoeing toward his neck.

  Raoul turned away. “No. The last thing I want to be to you is an addiction. I want to be a choice. With a clear head and a full heart. Just as you are to me.”

  I sighed, retreating. “I’m caught between choices. Between two people. The one I’ve been. And the one I want to be. My past and my future. You feel like my past. The one I can trust, the one where I feel safe, the one I can depend on. But he feels like my future. With you, I am human. With him, I am a queen.”

  Raoul cupped my cheek, his touch tranquil, injecting peace straight down into my heart. And while leaning forward to meet my gaze, Raoul whispered, “I see both, Reina Caraway. I always have. And I always will.”

  When I kissed him, when I tasted him, a storm of his memories thundered their way through my mind. And I realized from the first moment I met Raoul when he saved my life all those years ago, he’d always treated me like a queen. Just as he did tonight. And yet, he always made me feel like I didn’t have to wear a crown. I could always just be Reina.

  Where Skip took more, Raoul held back. Right when he shifted his mouth so my lips tried to open his, he pulled away, leaving me wanting. One simple brush of his mouth against mine and he stood, righting himself.

  “I’ll be right outside your door. But please try to get some rest soon,” he suggested.

  I would later. Not until I could crash. Until then, I spun leaping gold imagery into the fire. But no matter how much I tried to conjure random sun, moon, and stars and other nature symbols, I kept summoning Caroline, always perfecting her fire-persona.

  I paused in my elemental machinations when I realized what hovered in the background of Caroline. A subconscious image: a bloody rose.

  Chapter Thirty

  History

  The next morning, I had no desire to get out of bed or go to school. Not that school would be allowed after the previous night’s events. Today was for answers. The first one who came to see me was Mom.

  “Was it the Rose Killer?” I asked all the while knowing she couldn’t reveal any sensitive details shared during a Council meeting.

  “It was.” A breadcrumb. Because of last night. “A rose was left behind.”

  Unless it was a copycat. Judging from my mother’s prickly posture, I knew I wouldn’t get anything else. I suppose the Rose Killer was so preoccupied last night with murdering the Queen, he didn’t have time to bother with me. A stray thought had me wondering if it was all a diversion: the pack’s and clan’s challenge to my blood claim. Did the Rose Killer take advantage of it all? Did he use them?

  All the thoughts were giving me a headache. For weeks, I’d kept too much inside, short of my conversations with Caroline. But it was time for me to lean on another Queen, albeit a former one. So, after sharing with her my suspicions, I also revealed the news about my wolf transformation. All my spilled guts twirled in the air like dust bunnies. I tensed, anticipating however Mom would react.

  “I'm going to say two things, Reina Elizabeth Caraway.” Crap.
Mom straightened, body supported by her fist punched into one of the pillows as her warm brown eyes intensified ― mocha burning slowly. “The first is that you never ever wait so long to tell me these things again. I am your mother, and you are still living in my house, and I am the overarching, mother-fucking matriarch werewolf.” Ugh…not good when my mom cursed. But fortunately, she softened right after, “The second is this…”

  Her eyes cooled into a syrupy sort of fudge. “I can't imagine how difficult this stage of your life has been for you. You're transitioning, transforming, and training. I think we can all safely agree on that, and it's strange and scary because none of us has any inkling as to what that life will be,” she acknowledged before reaching to touch my curls. One brow furrowed, confused. Suddenly, her knuckles coasted to my forehead. “You’re burning up.” Mom groaned. “This can happen sometimes. Side effect when our kind transitions. Fevers, chills, headaches, nausea. No doubt compounded from last night.”

  Huh…I was sick. Humanity reared its double-sided coined head. Now, I got to milk it for all it was worth.

  “Need anything else, your highness?” mocked Heath after he set the tray bearing a pitcher of water, saltine crackers, chicken broth, and a box of Kleenex down on my nightstand.

  I tilted my head to the side and cracked a smile. “Can you fluff my pillow?”

  Grimacing, Heath reached behind me and prodded both sides of the pillow before shoving it back. “Brian's getting your heating pad and the wool blanket from the basement. Anything else?”

  “Grab my laptop from the closet? I'm going to watch a movie.”

  “Need me to grab the movie for you, too?” He wondered while opening the closet door.

  “It's on the top shelf with all the other DVDs.”

  Returning, Heath cunningly quoted from my selected film. “Are you going to show any compassion for me?”

  Almost preening, I raised my hand and flicked it, palm-down, instructing Heath. “You may kiss my hand.”

  “You're really enjoying yourself, aren't you?” Heath pecked my knuckles.

  Just then, Brian entered the room with my other requests. “Should I give you two some privacy?” He joked when he saw our older brother force-fawning over me.

  “There's no living with her when she's like this.” Heath jerked my hand away while the laptop hummed to life.

  “Mom made both of you my slaves for the rest of the day, so you have to do whatever I wa—” my speech was interrupted by another series of damp coughs, and Heath snatched a handkerchief from his pocket and chucked it toward me as I finished and blew my nose. I loved how my brother kept a hankie even when he was dressed down for a normal day. Just after, the doorbell sounded.

  Heath volunteered before Brian could.

  “How did you deal with your fever?” I asked my other brother and settled back down into my sheets.

  “Stuck in wolf form for a solid week and hunted until it was over. Even holed up in a cave during a blizzard one night.”

  I stuck out my tongue. “Goodie for you. I don't have any control yet.”

  “What did Heath think when he found out you turned wolf?”

  “He's grumpy. What did you expect?”

  Brian shrugged and began to unfold the wool blanket and spread it out on the bed around my cold feet. “Point taken. But hey, maybe you can still hold out hope for some fangs.”

  “Not hoping today.”

  I coughed again and blew my nose before freezing when I saw Heath turning the corner of the hallway into my room with a visitor. “Go away!” I flung the covers over my head. Why was he here when I canceled training for today?

  “Honestly, Rin,” Skip declared before approaching my bedside and nudging the covers down. “I grew up with three sisters. I can handle your illness theatrics.” He studied me. “Your curls are certainly out of control.” He fingered one or two. “But you still look lovely.”

  He was just being nice. Compared to me, Skip looked like a god, especially with the white cropped pants he sported, sinful crimson tee, and black open-vest. A casual fedora to boot.

  “You good?” interjected Heath. “Can we get a break?”

  “Yes, yes, you're dismissed,” I fluttered a hand.

  “I came to pay my respects to the invalid with a small token.” Once Heath was gone, Skip reached for something behind his back and withdrew a bag of small Ghirardelli dark chocolate raspberry filled squares. “I considered flowers, but I remembered how you preferred chocolate.”

  More than grateful, I accepted the bag and clutched it close to my chest like it was a baby doll. Then, both of us snapped our heads at another doorbell ring.

  Skip bristled like a thousand hornets had just stung him since it probably took that much to affect a vampire. “I should have known I wouldn't be the only visitor,” he remarked before Raoul appeared in my doorway.

  “Come in,” I waved to him. “I don't mind sharing my germs, especially since you vampires never get sick.”

  Raoul and Skip’s styles couldn't be more opposite. Raoul dressed for comfort, Skip dressed to impress, but they both had looks any girl would salivate over, though for different reasons. And I had. A girl of extremes, I was both tempted by Raoul’s dark angel and Skip’s golden godness. Raoul’s black shirt under a deep, brown leather jacket and dark wash jeans diverted my attention only for a moment because I was more interested in the closed basket in his hand.

  “Heath alerted me that you would be at home today and wouldn’t need an additional Guardian escort on account of them being your indentured servants.” Raoul explained while weaving his way around to the opposite side of the bed from Skip.

  “I prefer slaves but tomato tomahto.” I coughed again into Heath’s hankie but pointed to the basket. “What did you bring?”

  “Found something in my garden shed I thought might cheer you up.”

  Raoul opened the basket and I gushed, lurching forward to scoop up one of the squeaking kittens and rub its soft fur against my nose and cheek. There were three more ― two tortoiseshell colored and one black with white patches. I held the kitten above my face so I could see its glossy eyes ― a wayfarer blue. Fitting.

  “Mmm,” I coddled the creature closer to my chest and marveled. “They're adorable! Thank you so much!” I coughed into my shoulder.

  I was all too aware of Skip’s stiffened posture, betraying a sense of…jealousy? Indifference? Annoyance? More than ever, I wanted to read him, but my head cold and fever proved to be worthy adversaries to my telepathy. I didn’t want to aggravate them all the more.

  Raoul trailed two fingers along the back of one of the kittens as it arched its rump and ambled across the top of my laptop and stumbled over my leg. Giggling, I took the kitten and plopped it down next to its brother or sister.

  “So, you like cats.” Skip hovered his index finger toward one of the kittens that began to bat at it like a toy.

  “Yes, I'd have a cat if I could. More independent for my busy schedule.” I puckered my lips and pecked the tip of the rust-colored kitten’s briar-dry nose.

  “I'll keep it in mind.” Skip eyed Raoul with a measure of disdain as the other vampire scratched the remaining kitten’s ears as it remained curled up in the basket, content.

  “Okay, that's it. I have had it!” My gaze galloped back and forth between the vampires. “It's time to tell me what's going on. Right here, right now. I'm sick, so you have to do what I say. You are going to endure each other’s presence until I’m satisfied. So, one of you better start talking.” I cradled Rusty like he was a teacup.

  “Spoken like a true queen,” commented Skip before turning aside but only for a moment to grab the chair from beside the closet. Scooting it closer to my side, he leaned over and with hands folded, he opened the floor up to discussion. “Would you like to start, Kelley, or shall I?”

  Raoul gathered up the other two kittens to prevent them from being a distraction, but Rusty stayed with me. “Out of respect for the situation, Skip, I
'll allow you to begin.”

  Skip took one deep breath, tension wafting from him like hot smoke. Finally, he exhaled, and I watched his chest rise and fall with the effort. “You know Raoul and I have a history. A disturbing one.” He eyed the other vampire with a cool detachment. “We’re brothers if you can call it that.”

  Confused, I leaned forward in the bed, allowing the kitten to squirm its way out of my cupped hands. “What do you mean by that?”

  “We are half-blood brothers, Reina,” Raoul tried to clarify.

  “Yes, my father was a bit promiscuous in his younger years.” Loathing etched Skip’s voice.

  “She doesn’t understand.” Raoul furrowed his brow.

  I leaned back against my pillows, shrugging. “Sorry. I failed Vampire 101. Baby talk me, please.”

  Raoul placed the basket on the floor and took control of the narrative with his hand resting on the edge of my bedframe. “Reina, Shaw White, Skip’s father, bit me. In fact, he was responsible for saving my life. Please understand why I cannot give you more details, but I was born into slavery.”

  Skip placed his forearms across both armchairs, his silver veins throbbing like threads of lightning. “No, please let’s not regale her with your sob story. Just give her your meticulous #ownvoices diary sometime.”

  I glared at him and gestured for Raoul to continue. “My father was a plantation owner, a bitten vampire. My mother was his…slave. He was honestly relieved that I was as human as any. However, I was a young man when the Confederates began to lose the War,” he explained. “He tried to curry favor with some northern family members, hoping for monetary support, however distant they were. Shaw White came to visit, but little did my father know Shaw was part of the Underground Railroad. Shaw arranged for us to get to Canada.”

  Skip shifted in his seat, impatient from the long tale, but I wolfed down every word. In a way, I was jealous of Skip, of his knowledge of Raoul’s past. Even if it wasn’t exactly a choice. It was more than likely that he grew up with this family history passed down from his father.