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Stone breathed a sigh of relief. It was tough enough to deal with ‘Aralynn’, but if there was a third persona in there somewhere, he’d probably toss up his hands and back the hell out of there for good.

Rosamunde chuckled. “You look like you just escaped the hangman’s noose.”

“I’m not as flexible as Seth. I’ll tell you that straight out. And Seth might be comfortable being bonded to a wraith, but if I knew you had wraith blood I’d call a halt right now.”

“Well, I don’t and honestly, I wouldn’t blame you, not even a little.”

He set out spoons and big bowls, plates for the bread. He slid a tray of fresh butter down the concrete counter. “Look sharp.”

She turned in time to catch the ceramic dish then laughed. She squinched up her face. “Oh, that soup smells so good already. Where’d you get it?”

“There’s a village nearby. And a troll has cooked for me for years.”

“I take it you pick up the food then bring it here.”

“I do. Once a week.”

She looked around. “Do you do the cleaning and maintenance?”

At that, he smiled. “Nah. I use a service and have a fae wipe the memories afterward. I pay extra for everyone’s trouble.”

“So, there’s at least one fae that knows about this place.”

He shook his head and his lips curved. “Not exactly. She carries a potion with her to erase her own memories as well. And I watch her down the vial at the Com Center every time. I trust her, too. She’s a friend of Delia’s.” He opened the fridge again. “Beer or wine?”

“A cold bottle of beer sounds like heaven.”

He chuckled softly once more. Again, she’d surprised him. Aralynn had no problem guzzling from a bottle, but the much more formal queen?

As he pulled two amber ales from the door of his fridge, he wondered about her all over again. “Do you want a glass? I don’t have any chilled.” So how formal was she? Now that he had a better picture of her past, he knew that being queen had been thrust on her as a child, a duty she’d accepted. He’d always supposed she’d loved lording it over the realm-folk in her kingdom. He’d never thought for a moment she didn’t adore her castle life, not until tonight.

“The bottle’s fine, Stone.”

“Slide it to you?”

“Sure, why not?”

He couldn’t make her out. Though she was in her

Rosamunde form, she seemed more like Aralynn right now. Her violet eyes were bright and almost enthusiastic as she held out her hand, curved her fingers in an arc, and waited for the brew.

He slid it as he had the butter.

She caught it easily and drew the bottle straight to her lips. She even tilted back her head as she drank. And no simple ladylike swallow. She guzzled half the contents, then pressed her hand to her mouth as she belched into her palm. “I’m so sorry. I think I’m a bit punchy from all that’s happened. And I definitely didn’t expect to see you again. At least, not so soon.”

“Your blood rose qualities have complicated everything.”

“They sure have.” She frowned and shook her head. “This is as much your difficulty now as mine and I’m sorry for that, I really am. You didn’t ask to have me as your blood rose.”

“Well, you’re right about that. And though the other mastyrs warned me it’s a tough journey, I never imagined I’d be ready to kill to keep other men away from you.” He frowned and sighed. “We both need time to adjust.”

“Yes, we do.”

He turned back to the stove and stirred the soup then swigged his beer. What was it about a cold one that so often hit the spot?

He opened the oven door and gave the bread a poke. “Almost warmed through.”

“Good, because now my wolf stomach is grumbling.”

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