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She heard the frown in his voice when he asked, “Everyone?”
“I’m talking about everyone,” she said. “My mom, when I was five. My grandfather about six years later.” At least he’d fought to stay with them, but he’d contracted something when he was a younger man that his body eventually lost the strength to keep at bay. She swallowed and cleared her throat. “My father, when I was eighteen. Though in a lot of ways he’d been gone for years. And then, a couple of months before I came to this world, my best friend.” Her voice cracked. Had she ever actually had an opportunity to talk about Bridget’s death to another person?
Aric twisted in place and folded his arms around her. “You have me,” he said after several seconds.
She sucked in a sniffling breath, berating herself, and lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I’m supposed to be comforting you.”
He smiled at her. “You are.”
Her heart tripped and it took her a moment to remember words. “How?”
Aric ran a hand up her spine and pressed a kiss to her forehead before murmuring, “By being here with me, instead of leaving me alone.” He lowered his head to tease a chaste kiss over her lips. “By letting me hold you, and by being open with me in return.”
She held tighter to the back of his shirt. He made it sound much too easy.
Aric sealed his lips over hers before she could actually respond, sliding his tongue into her mouth and kissing her deeply. Then he retreated, his hands dragging around her body to settle over her hips, where he held her flush against him. “If I’m going to keep my promise of letting you rest today, then it’s time we focus.”
She smiled, stupidly thrilled at the knowledge of her effect on him. “Have you thought of a way I can help?”
“Several.” The word came out in a familiar, titillating growl that danced across her skin and made her second-guess her earlier certainty of her own body’s recovery time. If he noticed, he chose not to comment and instead said, “I need to go get Cecilia and Viveca. Preferably I’ll send Viveca home before having the conversation I need to have, but in the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you could occupy Mitzi and Darnel. Just keep them away, and hopefully unaware, until dinner.”
Rochelle felt her lips dip into a frown even as she nodded. He wanted some privacy for the necessary and unpleasant conversation with Cecilia. She respected that. “Okay. I’ll figure it out.”
He gave her hips a squeeze. “You’ll be safe with them,” he said. His voice was warm and gentled in a way she’d only heard when he held her. “But don’t be afraid to call me if you need to.”
It struck Rochelle, somewhere between her next heart-flip and the moment Aric stepped back to teleport away once Mitzi answered her front door, that Aric Vardanyan was much more dangerous than she had ever originally imagined. Her lips still tingled from their latest passionate kiss. Her heart raced, aching with longing the moment he disappeared. She really shouldn’t let herself fall for him, but a part of her feared it was already too late.
****
“Fine, fine, but you owe me a drink!” Viveca said, already moving to rejoin the nervously shuffling hovair driver. She raised a fist over her shoulder as she walked, her red mane swinging, but didn’t bother looking back.
Aric shifted his attention forward in time to see Cecilia settle her hands on her hips.
“Not that I don’t appreciate saving half a day’s travel, or the delicious dinner you promised, but we both know that story you told Viveca was a load of horseshit.” Her short, teal-dyed hair brushed against her chin as a light breeze blew through. “What’s going on, Aric?”
He inclined his head. “Let’s talk inside.” There was no use denying his ruse, and he wasn’t overly interested in the time the effort would waste.
Cecilia let out a breath and quietly followed him into the mansion. She commented on the pleasant aroma already wafting through the main hall from the cook fire, but made no attempt to detour.
Aric waited until Cecilia was seated against the outer corner of the sofa in his office before settling in his chair. Some part of him couldn’t help but find it interesting that she instinctively took the seat opposite of Rochelle’s usual choice. He pushed the observation aside and met Cecilia’s gaze. “I know this is going to come out of nowhere,” he said. He did sympathize with that, and how disorienting it felt to be blindsided by having the subject of Trisha’s death brought up again. “For that, I’m sorry. If it weren’t necessary, I wouldn’t push.”
Cecilia frowned and crossed her legs. “It’s not like you to hedge. Did something happen?”
“A few things,” Aric said. “What matters right now is that I need to know, between us, if you have any reason at all to believe that Elder Prince Denham might have a connection to Trisha’s death. And I need to know where you went during your time away.” He kept the specifications vague, hoping that the simple prompt would be enough to coax out whatever information she had. In his gut, he knew Cecilia knew something. There were only two possible ways Denham ended up with Trisha’s treasured brooch. But if Cecilia did know, or even suspected, Denham’s involvement, why had she never come to him with whatever information she held?
It was that question, more than any other, that concerned him the most.
Cecilia’s mouth dropped open for a moment before rage lit her eyes. “Howdareyou.” She sat forward, her booted foot landing hard on the wood floor. “You know I don’t talk about that. You know that is myoneline. I would take a blade to the chest for you, for any of you, and the only thing I have ever asked is to not have to talk about that.” She curled her fingers into the upholstered arm of the sofa before shoving to her feet. “I think I’ll pass on dinner tonight. Forward my apologies to Tinsley.”
Aric allowed her to step past him without rising from his chair. He wasn’t surprised at her defensive response, though he was a little taken aback by the intensity of her instant fury. There’d not been a moment of pause or an inquiry about his mention of the Prince. Only rage. He remained in his chair as he said, “Consider this my blade.”
Her steps halted and he watched her aura shift, heard a faint rustle of fabric that indicated movement. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ll never ask you to die for me,” he said. He stood so as to turn and meet her gaze again, but held himself in front of his chair. “Instead, consider this the blade you take for me. We’re having this conversation, Cecilia, even if it hurts.”
The confusion in her expression vanished and a coldness overtook her eyes, the likes of which he’d never seen on her before. She held her position. “You have no right to decide to hurt me.”
A touch dramatic.But the opinion would only serve to further anger her, so he held it in. “Trisha was my friend, too, remember,” he said instead. It was a valid point, and one he’d often allowed to be undervalued in the presence of his friends’ grief when the loss was fresher. But Rochelle had been right. They should have been able to lean on each other. After fifteen years, they should be able to talk about the good memories, instead of avoiding any mention of her name. He allowed his expression to soften, to falter. “Did you think I didn’t hurt when she died? Did you think I brushed it off?”
