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It wasn’t long before a very fine euphoria began moving through his veins. He loved to swim, especially when things got chaotic and tough. Ploughing water always helped.
Halfway back on his second full lap, he began to slow down. He wanted his breathing almost normal by the time he reached the dock.
When he finally pulled himself from the water, he saw that Rosamunde was busy in the kitchen, the woman who never cooked.
Uh-oh.
He grabbed the towel he’d left for himself, dried off then wrapped it around his hips.
When he entered the house, she was pulling bread and ham from the fridge. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought I’d make a couple of sandwiches. I can at least do that.”
Sandwiches. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good idea.”
He smiled, aware of the strange amount of affection floating around in his chest for the woman who had so recently been on his shit-list.
He took a moment to really look at her. Her violet eyes were large and extraordinary, her brows softly arched and her lips full. She was a beautiful woman. She’d managed to tame her hair with two braids then secured the mass in a Guardsman-type woven clasp, the design intended to keep long warrior hair in place during battle.
She was dressed for war as well in what he recognized as Aralynn’s battle gear, down to the oh-so-sexy snug boots she wore.
As she set the ham and bread down on the cutting board, she glanced at him. “Is anything wrong?”
He moved toward her quickly and took her chin in hand then kissed her on the lips. “Not a thing. I contacted Harris and got the latest. The realms are still without incident. Okay that I shower now?”
“Of course. Would you like a sandwich? I mean maybe you’d prefer something else.”
At that, his brows rose. He almost teased her with a comment about her soft life in the castle and didn’t she wish she had her chef with her, then thought the better of it. From what she’d told him, her life had been anything but, more like a prisoner of war.
“I’d love a sandwich.” He then headed in the direction of the bathroom. Before showering, he went into his dressing room and checked his tux. He’d had it specially made for tonight’s gala. His Italian leather shoes were ready, his cuff links, everything was in order.
He smiled as he thought about taking Rosamunde as his date. He knew she was going. At the time, he’d felt obligated to invite her. Now, he was beyond grateful he had and he’d ask her before the night got too busy.
A few minutes later, he’d just finished toweling off, when he heard Rosamunde call to him. “Stone?”
At first, he thought maybe the meal was ready. But something in her tone made him grow very still.
“What’s wrong?” He called back.
“The elf-lord power is rumbling again.”
Chapter Eleven
Rosamunde stood on the end of the dock staring out into the night sky. She felt Stone behind her, levitating swiftly. The elf-lord power rumbled deep in the lake and was heading right toward her. She prepared herself to feel the painful cramps in her legs.
Instead, just as the elf-lord power began to flow, Stone caught her hand and directed all that power into himself.
She squeezed his hand hard. “A vision.” She lifted their joined hands. “And thank you.”
“You’re welcome. The second I felt that rumble, I got my ass over here.”
She nodded and the power flowed, her back arched suddenly. A powerful stream of images began to roll through her mind. Are you getting this Stone?
I am.
In the vision, the forested hills that surrounded the lake became filled with a golden mist.
Margetta was coming for Stone.
On the vision rolled, showing the sky filling with golden light, as well as with dozens, even hundreds of wraith-pairs. Worse, at least seven of the pairs had mastyr vampires as bonded mates.
