Page 88 of The Secrets of Roan Island

I catch the scent of citrus and lost hope before there’s a knock at the door warning me I’m no longer alone. I know who it is immediately. For a moment, I consider not responding—I’m not in the mood for company—except curiosity compels me. I can’t imagine why the lady would be seeking me out.

“Come in,” I call.

She enters with her chin held high and her gaze steady. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a bun, tendrils loose and framing her face. She’s small, petite and thin, and I wonder if that’s just her or the disease stealing from her. Her dress is her own, worn thin and patched in multiple places. Interesting. I wonder why she chose it instead of the nicer ones Mrs. Darning always puts out for the women.

“Do you need something?” My voice is even, indifferent. The scent of the disease is strong, working to overtake what makes her unique. I wonder how long she has to live.

She glances at the music apparatus and moves across the room. I track her, watching the gentle sway of her skirt, tracing the lines to her hips, the slim waist, the way the fabric covers her torso. She turns down the music. Thankfully, Noah and Ruby are silent. For now.

The slip of a woman turns and faces me, her heart thumping in her chest. She’s afraid, as she should be, but brave enough to face me. Which is intriguing.

“The others and I would like to know what you plan to do with us now?” She steps closer, stops in front of me, and tilts her head to meet my gaze. Her blue eyes, threaded with bursts of green and gold, meet mine. One would think the color would be cold, but it isn’t. It’s pulsing with energy and life despite the disease inside her. I study her freckles and her pert nose, slightly turned up at the end. Without meaning to, my gaze flicks to her heart-shaped lips, firm with resolve.

I turn away, angry at myself for even looking.

New moon parties give me a means to satisfy my appetites, but listening to Noah and Ruby makes me feel like I’m constantly on the edge of starvation. I hate that my hunger awakens around this woman. She deserves more than that, especially in her condition.

She folds her hands together, patiently waiting for my reply.

I sit and lean back in my chair. “I don’t have an answer for you.”

She crosses the rug and takes the seat across from me, bringing that bright lemony scent with her. I want to hate it, but it isn’t the citrus I hate. It’s the other scent mixed in. Her illness—the decay and desperation.

“We came here on a gamble,” she says. “A chance at life with the risk of a faster death.” She pauses, looks around the room, and takes a deep breath. “The others and I have been talking, and we’d like to stay.”

Not what I expected. This woman is full of surprises, and I’m rarely, if ever, surprised.

“After talking with your sister, with Zarah, we understand that the venom will only work at Solstice if…” She clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably, and her blue eyes drop to her hands in her lap. Her dark lashes fan out across her pale cheeks. “Only if you fall in love with one of us.” She frowns. “I mean, if that were to happen.”

“It won’t.” It’s not an emotion I’ll ever succumb to again. My father cured me of it years ago.

Her eyes snap open and connect with mine. She frowns.

An arch of energy grips the base of my spine. Lust, of course. That’s all. I shake my head and look at the red wine in my glass before glancing once more at the woman sitting across from me. My gaze dips to her throat, and I watch her swallow. “I suppose there’s always Jafeth.” I sip my wine, looking at the fireplace instead of her.

“You don’t believe in love?”

I don’t bother answering.

When the silence stretches into discomfort, she says, “Some of the women would like a chance to live… to fall in love before Summer Solstice.”

“And what of you?”

“I made peace with death a long time ago, but…” She hesitates, and I can see her mind turning over how much she wants to say.

“But?” I prompt, hating how my mind leans toward being curious about this woman.

“I have a son.” She looks down at her hands, her body so still apart from her shallow breaths.

“Where is he now?”

She leans back, though I can't be sure if it’s because she’s feeling more comfortable or trying to put distance between us.“He was taken from me, put in a home when I was admitted to The Essik Sanatorium.”

“No family?”

She shakes her head. “Gone.”

“And his father?”

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