Page 37 of The Rowan's Stone
“It’s already coming back, but it will take a couple of days to reach a hundred percent,” I murmur. She mumbles something and snuggles down into the blanket. There’s no way she’s comfortable in that chair. I slide out of bed and pick her up.
“What are you doing? I can walk back to my room,” she assures me.
After sleeping for twelve hours, I know I’m not getting any more sleep. I place her in the spot where I was sleeping and pull the covers up over her. She stares up at me from my bed, with her tousled hair and sweet smile, and the temptation proves to be too much. Groaning, I lean down and capture her lips with mine, but when my lips touch hers, I know one kiss isn’t going to be enough. Gripping her head between my hands, I kiss her over and over, my passion rising with each stroke of my tongue. Feeling her curves against my chest, my hands twitch with the need to explore every inch of her, but I rein in my desire.
When her passion meets mine, I hear her moan and she dives into me, stoking the fire even further and testing my control. With each deep kiss, I memorize the feel of her lips against mine and the taste of her passion, but I hold tightly to my control. She moves restlessly in the bed, and I pull back. When I look down, her swollen lips make me smile with satisfaction, but the dark circles under her eyes reinforces my decision.
“I’d love to stay here kissing you, but I know you’ve been up all night. So I’m going to work out…” I pause and mentally add a cold shower to my list. “Then I’ll have coffee in the garden and watch the sunrise. If you get up later, come join me.”
She smiles and snuggles down into the bed, and within seconds, she’s asleep. I place a soft kiss on her forehead and head out.
* * *
I’m drinkingcoffee in the garden and watching the sunrise when I hear the elevator doors open. I grin and check over my shoulder, only to encounter Theron’s violet eyes, not the bright green ones I expected. My smile drops.
“Expecting someone else, were we?” Theron jeers softly. “My company used to be good enough for you, but I’ve been replaced by a delectable witch who I’m pretty sure has put a spell on us all.”
Chuckling, I lift my hand and point to the table next to me, where two mugs sit—one for Arden and one for the insufferable Fae next to me. “I believe that’s your mug, correct?”
He strolls over and pours a cup of coffee and grabs the chair next to me. Propping his elegant, polished shoes on the railing, he stares out at the sunrise with me.
“I offered to stay with you or to take shifts, but she refused. Said it was the least she could do after you helped her discover her Elven heritage. Honestly, though, I could see more in her expression.” He takes a sip of coffee and sighs. “Her eyes shocked me yesterday, even though we all felt she had to be Fae or Elven. I’d gotten so used to her hazel ones, it was almost like looking at another person.”
I also take a sip and glance over at one of my oldest friends. “Are you upset to find she’s Elven?” I cautiously ask.
“No, I guess it’s marginally better than some of the alternatives,” he jokes, making me snort. “It might make it easier to find her father too. And she seemed content yesterday, as if knowing her heritage helped ease some of her fears.” He shares a smile with me. “Where is she now?”
“I left her sleeping in my bed.” My voice is a tiny bit smug when I reply. “She looked pretty damn good in it.”
He groans and finishes his coffee. “I can only imagine, you bastard. I’m going to get some paperwork done. Why don’t we take her to dinner tonight?”
“That sounds good. The Italian place on Broadway? Café Nonna’s?” I suggest. He waves a hand in agreement and walks off. I glance at my watch. I’ve got about ten minutes before I have to head down and call my father. I relax back in my chair and think about the woman in my bed.
Ten minutes later, I’m on the phone with my father, barely holding on to my patience.
“My sources haven’t been able to find anything on the assassination attempts, but the only forces able to withstand pressure from me are Fae, demon, or those dark Elven bastards. It’s probably them. You know they don’t give a damn who they kill,” he snarls.
My own fists clench. This is the single point on which my father and I agree wholeheartedly. Our hatred for the dark elves, especially the royal fuckers leading them, is absolute. They killed my mother for consorting with my father and left her in the land between our two kingdoms.
Given our recent assistance with the battle in the Underworld, Lucifer’s got his own men searching for any demon with insider knowledge of Arden’s assassination attempts and the Primary behind them.
We have to hope Solandis can make some inquiries with the Fae, and Theron too, but I’m not sure how we will reach the dark elves. Maybe Cormal might have an idea, since he seems to have contacts on both sides. Honestly, his contacts rival my father’s in some instances, and in the bowels of criminal society, his are probably better.
I don’t mention the Primary to my father. It would be too difficult to explain over the phone, and the code name makes it even more difficult. Plus, I’m not sure he would be able to keep the information to himself. He’s been…off lately.
“What’s with this girl?” my father asks, inserting the question smoothly into the conversation, as if he could care less. “You seem to be quite taken with this witch. She’s not your mate, is she?”
I ponder the question for a second. “She’s not only a witch, she’s Elven.” I pause to let it percolate in his brain. “I don’t know if she’s my mate. She’s Valerian’s mate, and the rest of us are trying to figure it out. How do I know if she’s my mate? How did you know my mother was your mate?”
His voice gruff, he replies, “You just know. I can’t explain it. I’ve got to go. Bring her home for me to meet soon. That’s an order, Fallon.” He hangs up.
I exhale loudly. Conversations with him are always difficult, but he seemed worse today. I hoped he would find something, but I guess even he has his limits. My biggest concern is his order to bring her home. He never wants to meet my friends, which tells me he’s worried she’s my mate.
* * *
Later in the evening,I’m standing in the lobby with Theron while we wait for Arden to come down. I tug on the collar of my shirt and straighten the sleeves on my jacket. How Theron wears these things day in and day out, I’ll never know. A boa constrictor would feel less restrictive.
“Stop tugging on the suit,” Theron demands. “Did you find out anything new from your father on the assassinations?”
