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She’d seen Rez as a toddler and her heart ached now. Fiercely. The encounter with Rez’s mother in the past had shaken her to her core. But what still vibrated so strongly through her was how for a brief second, time had converged, especially for Marion. The woman had felt Holly’s future and her own present combine into a formidable experience.
The trouble was, Marion hadn’t shared any details. She’d only spoken of Rez’s daughter. The whole thing was so strange and way outside anything for which Vojalie had prepared her.
When dizziness assailed her, she knew she had to leave the time-path. She stepped into the present. Time resumed its normal course. The distant blow-dryer continued for a moment, then stopped.
A chore would help ease the unexpected nature of the time-path.
She busied herself pulling the soup from the fridge, then a pot from the cupboard. She turned the oven on and found some foil. She wrapped up the loaf of bread and set it within to warm.
She knew this was only the beginning. She was caught in something bigger than herself and she was frightened.
When Rez arrived at the kitchen doorway, her hand stopped mid-stir, then resumed slower than before.
“What’s wrong? You’re distressed. I can feel it.”
She kept stirring, her gaze fixed on the pot. How much should she tell him? She shook her head, but more to clear her mind that to offer a negative. “Nothing at all. Though I admit I’m somewhat overwhelmed.”
He drew close, a movement that required one step given the small size of the kitchen. He planted a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be okay. We both will. We’ll get through this.”
“I know.”
He glanced at the stove. “I appreciate you starting the meal.”
“Of course. We need to eat.”
Like
a man who’d lived alone for a long time, he didn’t wait for her to do everything. Instead, she watched him gather up bowls and plates and put them on a tray. Glasses for wine. Silverware. A cutting board for the bread. He carried everything out to the small dining area on the short north wall of the living room.
By the time he came back with the tray, she settled the foil-wrapped bread off to the side, set the bowls on the tray and ladled out the soup.
He busied himself behind her opening a bottle of wine.
He bumped into her a couple of times. “Sorry. It’s a small space.”
She chuckled softly. “And you’re a big man and I’m not exactly a petite thing myself.”
He had the wine in hand as he moved to the door. She carried the tray bearing the soup and bread. He waited for her to pass him. “No. You’re not. You’re perfect.”
Sweet Goddess, his gorgeous face, a soft smile, the dimple in his chin and those blue eyes all drove a stake through her female heart. He looked amazing in black leathers studded down each side and hip boots. He wore a fresh, black tank top.
It didn’t help that in a flash she was watching his mother pick him up as a little boy.
Her heart swelled up. Then she felt it, a sensation that had to be about her blood rose abilities. She could feel her body building a new supply, something meant to feed Rez.
She had to remind herself that her new nature wasn’t designed specifically for Rez. She would feel this way about any mastyr vampire. But it was Rez who stood by the small table, looking magnificent and pouring her a glass of white wine.
Once seated and sipping her wine, she got lost in her new reality. She might have tasted some of the soup she ate. Maybe the bread. Mostly, images had hold of her mind, of healing Rez in Millerell, of craving him then feeding him beneath the oak.
But it was afterward, after her shower and in the kitchen, that soon took possession of her mind. Not even her fear about being a blood rose could supplant the powerful force of meeting Rez’s mother and of Marion recognizing Holly as an entity she’d known was coming.
Rez gripped her wrist suddenly, not in a harsh way, though it brought her gaze shooting to his. “Are you sure something isn’t bothering you?”
She shook her head. She glanced back at her bowl. When had she finished her soup? Her wine? Her bread? She wasn’t sure what to do, how much to say. “I’m caught in a time-loop.”
She was speaking metaphorically, but she realized he didn’t know anything at this point about time-pathing. “What I mean is, I can’t stop thinking about things that happened tonight.”
“Well, spill it. I mean, what’s bugging you the most?” He released her wrist.
