Page 54 of The Book Reader
ARIANNA
Closing the bedroom door softly, I make my way to the bathroom. I move to stand in front of the mirror and tilt my head to look at the huge bruise and bite mark on my neck.
Last night when Gaelan came to my house, I knew he was hurt. But the way he looked, he was close to death; he needed blood to heal. It’s a well-known fact that all daemons need blood to recover, but I’d never given my own until last night. The orgasm was intense, but the teeth marks are sore this morning.
Sighing, I turn on the shower, stepping in the hot water soothes my aching muscles. I had zero sleep last night. Gaelan woke me up twice in the night to feed again;he’s almost as bad as a vampire, I laugh to myself. Gaelan’s sleeping now, so I’ll let him rest. But when he wakes up, he’s going to tell me what the hell is going on—how two days ago we were wrapped up in each other, then he ends up chained to a wall, damn near dead. And he sure as hell is going to tell me who the fuck Macy is.
Finishing in the shower, I put on my large, fluffy bath gown and head downstairs for a cup of tea. Walking into the kitchen, I freeze when a giant black wolf lifts its head off the floor andwhines at me. Its red eyes soften before it stands up slowly; the way it tilts its head makes me gasp. “Rex?” He growls playfully and moves over to me slowly and licks my hand. Going to my knees and looking him in the eye, the red swirling like a flame around his pupils. Rex licks my face, making me laugh, and I almost fall to the floor. I scratch behind his ears. “Something tells me you like cookies.” He growls again and bumps his head into mine. Standing and moving over to the side, he picks up the cookie jar and gives him a plain one, which he eats in one bite.
I pour water into the cast-iron pot and place it over the flames. With the weather getting colder, I left the fire on overnight to make sure Gaelan stayed warm. I can’t shake the feeling of Deja Vu, so much of last night and standing right here with Rex—looking at me for another cookie—feels familiar, like I’ve been here before.
But it’s impossible, isn’t it?
I’ve not heard the voices in my head since the daemon attack outside the restaurant. It’s like they’ve decided I don’t need any more help; well, it’s either that or I was going insane.
I pour my tea and walk into the living room with Rex right behind me. I sit down on the floor and pull the boxes from the attic over to me. Opening the one with the photos in it first. I frown at the first one as I lift it out of the box. “Wow, boy, this is old,” Rex whines and lies down next to me, resting his large head on my lap.
The first one is a painting, a portrait of some kind; the lady in it has long blonde hair, she’s wearing a floor-length blue gown, like something from Victorian times, and I can’t help the smile that crosses my face—she has the same eyes as me. I place it down and pick up the next one. This one features a group of ladies wearing dresses again; it is more reminiscent of the Regency era. The young girl in the middle, with her dark brownhair, looks just like me, apart from her skin color, which is a creamy white. Her amber eyes are bright with joy and laughter.
I pick up the next one, another painting. This one is small; my eyes run over the brush strokes in amazement at the man grinning back at me. The artist got the dimples in his cheeks and the glow in his blue eyes perfectly.Gaelan.
How? Why is ithere?
I flip through more; most are of the same, memories of someone’s past, while others are of Gaelan with different women. “What the fuck?” Rex growls lightly next to me and nuzzles into me more, like he’s offering me comfort—which I’m grateful for. But why is there a box of photos at my aunt’s house with paintings and pictures of Gaelan and his exes?
Anger and confusion start to wage war in my body; it’s the same circles again—just as I think I’m getting answers, I end up with more questions.
I reach into the box and pull out a few more; this time, the black and white photos are unmistakable—Gaelan is kissing another woman. A strong feeling of jealousy sets fire to my veins, burning them all the way to my heart. We hadn’t even discussed what was going to happen after our first date. Other than him coming to spend time with me here, there have been no words of love, because that’s too fast—so why do I feel like he’s mine? Not wanting to see any more, I stand up, knocking Rex slightly, and walk into the kitchen to make another cup of tea.
Leaning against the kitchen sink, I try to take some deep breaths—I never did get a chance to go shopping for wine, and I could really use a large glass right now.
“Rose?” Gaelan’s voice startles me. He’s standing with a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water clinging to his skin, and his hair still wet from his shower.
“How are you feeling?” I say as I cross my arms over my chest, I need to check he’s feeling okay before I start yelling at him, the mandidalmost die.
“I feel well, my Rose,” he says carefully, as if sensing my mood. He steps further into the kitchen. “Rose? I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He nods toward my neck, but that’s the least of my worries now.
“Why is there a box of you and your ex-girlfriends in my house?” I demand, making him frown at me. He says nothing, so I continue, my voice taking on an accusing tone that burns my throat. “And why is it my family members you seem to be dating?” I try to keep my voice calm, but I can’t. Gaelan continues to frown at me, and then something crosses his face, almost like a guilty look.
“Rose, I don’t know what’re?—”
I hold my hand up to stop him from talking. “If you’re going to lie to me, you can leave.” I’ve had enough of his half-truths.
Walking past him into the living room, Gaelan follows close behind me. I pick up the photos of him and the different women and shove them at him. He takes them and looks down, smiling, and my eyes narrow. “Happy memories?” I ask sarcastically
He shakes his head. “Happy and sad.”
“I think you need to leave.”
He looks over at me and takes a seat in the chair nearest the box opposite me as he starts to look through the photos. He doesn’t look up at me when he speaks, “My Rose, I’m not leaving.” I go to say something, but stop when he continues, “You can’t make me. I will bend you over my knee before that happens.” He lifts his eyes to me, and they flash blue to echo his warning. I almost whimper at the look on his face. Why does he have this effect on me? And why does the thought of him leaving me nearly break my heart, even if Iamangry? “If you sit down, I will explain.”
He goes back to look at the photo; I bite my bottom lip and shake my head. “I will stand, thank you very much.” I’m being a brat, but I’m past caring.
“Sit down,” he commands with a growl. I go to open my mouth, but stop when he laughs.
“What’s so funny?” I question.
“You still don’t listen to me.” He stands up and walks over to me, lifting my chin. He leans down and places a soft kiss on my lips. “Please, my Rose, sit.” He gestures to my aunt’s chair. I sit down, and he moves to sit down on the coffee table in front of me.
