Page 52 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

“Do the others know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good. If she’s got even a sliver of supernatural blood—think of the potential here. Having access to that kind of power.”

“You still want to use her?” Zola snarled. “After all of this?!”

“Not in the way you think. I will not take her blood against her will.”

She seemed to read his intentions, relaxing. “You’re still an asshole, Laurent.”

“I will do whatever it takes to protect my family—as I have always done.”

“Be that as it may, you will never harm her again.”

“I will not,” he confirmed.

She studied him a moment longer. “This is a dangerous road—if you do this.”

“That will be entirely up to her.”

“Hmm. Interesting. Putting your life in the hands of a mortal. That does not sound like the Laurent I know.”

“You think my fate will be the same as Nemati’s?”

“No. You’re not as stupid or as reckless as he was.” She hesitated, closing her eyes briefly. “All right. I will back you, even though I can already predict what’s going to happen.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She huffed, but it was obvious she wasn’t going to answer him. “Let’s just wait and see how this plays out, hmm?”

“Right,” he scoffed. “We’re good, then?”

“Yes, sire.” She walked over and gently kissed his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed and he hummed. He did not allow himself the luxury of love. It wasn’t possible for a wretched creature like him. But whatever he felt for Zola was similar to the kind of love a father might feel for his child.

“We’re good,” she said, starting down the hallway. “I have things to do. Let me know if she wakes.”

“I will.” He strode into Lily’s room, closing the door behind him.

15

Laurent kept watch beside Lily’s bed, leaving only when necessary. She dreamed, but her dreams were not entirely her own. She muttered in her sleep, words and names, not from people in her life but his. He’d given her a great deal of blood. Blood carried memories. The question was, which of his did she now carry?

On the second day, her eyes flew open and she sucked in a breath.

He immediately came alert, using his senses to take her vitals. Seconds passed. She appeared calm at first, then her breathing turned rapid. She jerked upright, those blue eyes falling upon him with crushing weight.

“Little flower,” he murmured, keeping his voice low.

The whites of her eyes grew at the sight of him, and her heart exploded into a frantic rhythm. Like a rabbit cornered by a predator, it hammered against her ribs so violently he wondered the organ didn’t simply give out.

He lifted his hands, keeping his words softer than usual. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”

She whimpered, gaze darting over him. It was as if she were seeing a monster rather than her rescuer, and perhaps she was right to. What he witnessed within the depths of her eyes made his hands tighten into fists. There was nothing of the usual way she regarded him. There was recognition, yes, but it was paired with something that made his stomach twist with guilt—the kind he was not supposed to feel.

She scrambled across the bed, trying to put more distance between them. Her rich vanilla floral scent turned rancid. “Lily,” he breathed, pleading with her to be calm. “Please, little flower. It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.”

The doubt—no, the terror—in her expression made him falter. This was worse than hatred. This was fear of him specifically, not just what he represented. Her chest rose and fell in bursts, heart straining at the limits of its exertion.