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The massacre had pulverized them both, ending their affair that very night.
She knew she hadn’t done as he’d said; she hadn’t enthralled him. But if they hadn’t been involved, hadn’t loved each other so deeply, would the massacre have ever happened? Would Ian have seen the signs in his realm? Had his love for her and his drive toward her prevented him from being a proper ruler of his realm?
Maybe what hurt most, however, was he truly believed her capable of such horrendous wrong-doing. Although, she suspected he’d been using her as a scapegoat to salve his own feelings of guilt. Yet, Ian hadn’t done anything wrong; he’d just loved her.
But she couldn’t change the past or his beliefs.
She lifted her chin. “I’m ready to g
o.”
Ian turned in her direction and held out his arm to her. He was a quick flyer and despite the ocean between the realms, he’d have her home in no time.
She crossed the foyer and went outside with him, savoring for a brief moment the feel of his hand on the small of her back. He even took her satchel from her. “I’ll carry it.”
As she climbed aboard his foot, he pathed softly, Regan. Just her name, but she was always surprised by the way his voice sounded so deep and supremely sexy even within her mind.
Yes? She responded. Did you forget something?
When he slid his arm around her waist, it was all she could do to keep from crying out. It was like being held in the most beautiful embrace, even though it was just a simple flight hold.
Apologies. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.
Which part exactly? She had to ask the question. She didn’t want any misunderstandings.
For saying what didn’t need to be repeated. You know what I believe, but I didn’t mean to distress you.
You didn’t. You made me furious then really sad that you hold such a wretched opinion of me. No, please don’t say anything more. Just take me home.
She slid her arm around his neck, but set her face forward.
She was done.
She mentally started making plans. As soon as Ian had her safely back at the Fae Guild retreat, she would contact the Fae Council in Tannisford and make a case for the most powerful fae to work with her to eradicate Margetta’s mist-spell. She’d seen enough before her escape to know it was much more complex than the spell that had hidden the Invictus camp near Angler’s Cliff.
She felt Ian’s muscles shift in a way that meant he was ready to levitate and take off flying. Then, he stopped, his body growing oddly stiff.
“Shit. Stone’s here. Zane must not have reached him in time.”
Stone, Mastyr of Tannisford Realm, dropped down in front of them, fifteen feet distant. He was taller than Ian, almost six-seven, had thick, wavy, black hair, unusual green eyes, and more tats than even Ian. His appearance had always reminded Regan of a hawk, the way his eyes focused like a predator on whatever he was looking at.
Her heart picked up its cadence. She blinked a couple of times because Stone had never looked more handsome in his life, though she couldn’t say why. A sudden and very powerful desire began to rise within her. She’d always liked and admired Stone, but she’d never experienced a romantic interest in him like she did now.
She also felt his chronic blood starvation like a pressure against her breastbone. She wanted to feed him. Needed to. And she needed to do it now.
At about the same time, she felt something very strange flow through Ian, a vibration unfamiliar to Regan. The muscles of his back flexed and released only to tighten again.
A strange chuffing sound came out of his throat. She looked up at him, shocked to see that his fangs had settled low on his lips. “Ian?”
A low growl came from his throat as he slowly slid his arm from around her then eased her away from him. At the last moment, he pushed her behind him.
“Get in the house. Now.” His voice was low, almost unrecognizable.
Regan didn’t understand until she heard Stone growl as well. He stared at her, a hungry glint in his eye, nostrils flared, fangs on his lips.
Oh, no.
It was all so new she’d forgotten: she was a blood rose. And Stone was one of the most powerful of all the ruling mastyrs.
