Page 68 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

Not that she was in any danger. It had been a little over a week since sharing his blood. There was still enough in her body with healing properties that would keep her safe. She was probably feeling a strange itch she couldn’t explain. A desire for more. One she wouldn’t know how to recognize. For now, she would be okay, but over the coming weeks, it would grow unbearable.

He had to ensure that when the time came, she wouldn’t fear him the way she did now. Which meant there was work to be done. Work he was willing to do.

“I’m not allergic,” she said, her voice breathy. Tonight, there was longing in her gaze for what he held.

His lips twitched, recalling how she would kill for a proper cinnamon roll.

“May I?” He asked, motioning toward the interior of her room.

“Oh… All right.” She stepped aside. Her heart was already slightly calmer. She regarded him warily, her eyes tracking his every movement.

He gently set the tray on the table, then dared to ask, “Did you get the sheet music I left yesterday?” There was a long hesitation, in which her heart began pounding again. When she didn’t reply, he said, “No one is forcing you to play. I just thought you might like some music of your own while you are here. Until…until you decide to leave.” He was careful to make that clear. “No one plays the piano anymore. Haven’t for a while.”

Curiosity flashed in her gaze. “Why?”

“It was my son’s. Lio. He died sixteen years ago.”

“Oh. I’m…sorry.”

“The piano is yours, if you’ll have it.”

Her pulse sped up, but this time he didn’t think it was from fear. “The… The piano?! You…”

“I considered getting rid of it, actually.” He began inching toward the door slowly to avoid startling her. “Sometimes it’s hard to look at—too many memories. The others don’t play—other instruments, yes, not the piano.” She blinked, like she couldn’t quite comprehend his offer. So he decided to make things easier by saying, “It’s yours, Miss Shaw. After hearing you play... I do not think I can bring myself to get rid of it anymore. Good night.”

He left her gaping after him as he quietly closed the door behind him.

19

Laurent found Marco waiting in his study. He’d just returned from delivering Lily’s cinnamon roll and hot chocolate, too deep in his thoughts to realize Marco had made himself comfortable. Not until he walked into the room and a voice drawled, “I hear you have taken on a new hobby, sire.”

“Fuck off,” he muttered without heat.

Marco merely chuckled. “Is it working?”

“I’m hopeful.” He left it at that, moving over to the liquor cabinet—brand new since he’d smashed the other. He poured them each a drink before taking a seat. “Well?”

Marco ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been discreet, but I haven’t found any additional information on your father’s ruby. Rumors—vastly exaggerated, I’m sure. Nothing to explain how it could be connected.”

He hummed, not exactly disappointed. He hadn’t expected Marco to find much, if anything. Still, it left them no closer to answers.

“There was one interesting bit of information I came across,” Marco said. “At first, I dismissed it. But the name kept surfacing in relation to artifacts. Better still, we have a mutual connection. You’re probably not going to like it, though.”

“Tell me.”

“Does the name Dr. Eleanor Kennedy ring any bells?”

Laurent frowned. “No. Should it?”

“Apparently she did some work with the WBI during that whole mix up with the fae Supernatural Council a few years back. She was involved in that whole Marsh Thadur thing.”

“So?”

“She’s human, with an advanced degree in art history.”

“Again, I fail to see your point.”

“She also happens to be Bastian Croft’s mate.”