Page 75 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

Laurent had reserved a whole section for me? I gravitated toward it. There was now an expanse of shelves with a little gold plaque in the middle that read, Lily Winifred Shaw, in fancy calligraphic writing, to mark my own space.

Warm tingles spread through my chest, down to my fingertips. These moments of lightness were coming more easily now, small breaks in the fog that had settled over everything.

At the apartment, I shared my shelves with Ania, who had actually been the one to purchase them. I’d never had any bookshelves of my own. I carefully placed my stack of textbooks and journal at one end. Then I hesitated, and repositioned them on the other end, satisfied. I stepped back, realizing how lonely they looked.

Laurent appeared beside me again. I faltered, holding my breath. “Vittorio will order whatever books you’d like. I’m sure Zola would jump to accompany you to the bookstore. She’s got an addiction,” he added dryly.

A breathy, eager sound burst from my lips and I flushed. He stepped away and Eleanor quickly replaced him. “This place is amazing,” she gushed. “You really live here?”

“I… Yes.” I decided to avoid the complicated details. “I love your hair, by the way.”

“Oh!” She ran her fingers through the loose, pink curls. “Thank you. I’m rather fond of it,too.”

“How far along are you?” I gestured to the cute little bump at her belly.

“Almost five months.” Her features softened. I didn’t miss the way her eyes flicked toward Bastian.

Both Bastian and Laurent stood off to the side chatting. Their eyes were fixed on us. Bastian’s gaze, especially, didn’t leave his mate.

My skin warmed at the idea. I wondered what it would feel like to be so coveted, so loved by someone that they couldn’t look away for even a second. Like all the love interests in my books.

“He seems as protective of you as Bastian is of me,” Eleanor mused.

I startled. “What?”

“Your… The vampire. Laurent.”

“Uhm.” Laurent was protective because it was in his best interest to be. Not because he cared.

“So…” Eleanor cleared her throat, eyeing all my mathematics textbooks. “It’s wonderful to meet another academic. How are you feeling about your doctoral program this fall?”

“A little terrified, actually.” For more reasons than one.

She laughed. “It’s intimidating. Believe me, I know. Getting a Ph.D… It’s not for the faint of heart. It takes real grit and dedication, but something tells me you already have that.” I flushed. “Any idea what your thesis topic will be?”

“I have a few,” I said, feeling more at home with the conversation as I launched into a series of mathematical curiosities that had her eyes glazing over.

“Wow, you really are a total genius.”

A laugh burst from my lips. “Sorry. I get…carried away.”

“Oh, believe me, I do the same thing with my research⁠—“

“Shall we get started?” Laurent’s soft voice addressed the room.

Eleanor and I shared a quick look before we moved toward the middle of the room.

The large work table seated ten. At some point in the last couple of minutes, Vittorio had efficiency laid out refreshments. I spotted the mini cinnamon rolls and grinned. He caught my eye and nodded—sharing a secret exchange.

Unfortunately, those little cinnamon rolls reminded me of Laurent now. How he brought me desserts each night. I tried really hard not to think about how he went out of his way to bake for me. Instead, I reminded myself that he was only doing it because he felt guilty.

He’d probably keep it up for a couple more days, then consider himself absolved. What irked me most was that he hadn’t actually apologized. As if baking was an apology in and of itself.

He had no idea how much I craved to hear the words.

Every time I thought about it, my appreciation turned to anger. Anger was better than fear. Maybe that meant I was healing, that I could feel something more than fear around him.

Unfortunately, I still had a long way to go. I hated the helpless feeling that came over me in his presence. Hated how the sight of him made me freeze up. Hated that thinking of him put me on edge. That he still had such power over me.