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Vojalie’s brow grew pinched as though she was mulling the situation over. She sat in a leather, wing-back chair, and was somewhat swallowed up because it was built on Ian’s massive lines. Her right wrist dangled just over the armrest. With her free hand, she twirled a long, dark curl around her finger.

Regan kept expecting Vojalie to respond to her observation but she remained silent. She almost looked perplexed.

“What is it?” Regan asked. “Don’t you think my idea has merit? That we should involve the fae community?”

Vojalie huffed a small, almost frustrated sigh. “In some respects yes, though I have my reservations. But only you can determine the right path for yourself and for Ian.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Actually, I don’t. I’ve never excelled at spell-making, so I’m of no use to you in this si

tuation. But I have been close to several of the blood roses over the past few months. And I’ve observed that each one eventually had to alter her thinking in order to move forward, especially where the realm mastyr was concerned.” She looked almost pained, her hands now clasped tightly together, as she added, “If at all possible, make every effort to see Ian in a new light.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Vojalie appeared to hunt for words. “You don’t know him very well, Regan. We could start there.”

“You’re so wrong,” Regan answered quickly. “I know him extremely well. You forget, we were lovers once.”

Vojalie shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I strongly disagree. You were enamored of him many centuries ago, you had a terrible falling out, and you’ve barely exchanged an hour of conversation since. How can you possibly say you know him well? I would suggest, you don’t know him at all.”

Regan wanted to argue, but something in what Vojalie said struck a chord of truth within Regan’s fae nature. “Part of me wishes to argue the point, but maybe you’re right. In some ways, we were just getting to know each other, even to have the occasional argument, when Raven’s Overlook changed everything.”

Vojalie had been her mentor from the time she was a teenage girl nearly seven centuries ago. Regan had lived a long time and in turn had mentored dozens of fae women herself.

What she had never done well, however, was enjoy a long-term relationship with a man. She’d dated dozens of times since Ian, but most of her affairs only lasted a brief couple of years. After all this time, she wasn’t sure she’d ever have a real relationship.

Shifting her thoughts for a moment, she considered the lightning-and-thunder nature of her brief love affair with Ian. Was it possible she’d been part of the problem as Ian suggested, even if she’d never quite seen it before? Not the ‘enthralling’ part; Regan knew she’d hadn’t put Ian in any kind of trance. Yet, how many times had she begged Ian to stay with her just a few more minutes, sometimes extending his visit by an hour or two.

If she had guilt, it lay there. Maybe by letting him go sooner the night of the massacre, he might have been able to save his people.

“When I’m with a man, I’m all in, but the relationships never seem to last. With Ian, I’d always seduce him to stay longer with me than he should. It was wrong.”

“So you do blame yourself.”

“How could I not feel guilty because of what happened? Maybe if Ian had been there at the time, he could have prevented the massacre. However, that’s something we’ll never know. But I promise you, I didn’t enthrall him. My only excuse can be that I was out-of-my-mind in love with him.”

Vojalie leaned back in her chair. “Well, you definitely have a complicated relationship with Ian. But I would strongly encourage you to stick close to him at least for the next few nights. I know this is all new to you, but Stone’s reaction will be the first of many. And once it’s known you’re a blood rose, there are some mastyrs, anxious for more power, who will do whatever they can to trap you into a bond. Are you aware this is a possibility?”

Regan nodded. “I believe that’s what happened to Samantha. A mastyr named Ry was after her and almost succeeded in forcing a bond.”

“Yes, he did. And he was also aligned with Margetta. So, I urge you to keep these difficult facts in front of you as a reminder how serious this situation is, especially for you.”

Regan knew Vojalie was right. “I’ll do as you’ve said. My earliest thoughts were more a primal reaction, to put as much distance between myself and Ian as I could.”

She heard footsteps down the hall and a moment later, Ian appeared in the doorway. His bruises looked better. He had a concerned frown between his brows as he met her gaze. “Thought we should talk.”

She nodded. “We should.” She rose from the sofa and crossed to him.

To Vojalie, Ian said, “Your husband is pouring out two glasses of a very fine cognac for you both. He said he refuses to return to Merhaine until you’ve had a drink with him. Shall I send him in?”

Vojalie rolled her eyes. “That man. He takes every opportunity to flirt.”

“You are so right, my dearest love.” Carrying a brandy snifter in each hand, Davido pushed past Ian. “You will love this, my most darling sweetheart. The very finest brandy. Ian said he’s been keeping it just for us.”

Regan watched the couple for a moment. They’d been together a long time, but Davido still treated his woman as though they were dating. She’d always admired them as a couple.

When Davido handed the snifter to his wife, she leaned forward and tilted her face to him. Davido caught her chin with his now free hand and Regan could sense a brief telepathic exchange. He then kissed Vojalie and sat down in the companion wing-back chair. He was only five-three and his feet didn’t hit the floor, not in a chair designed for Guard-sized bodies.

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