Page 83 of Black Rose

I can’t be too sure of that. She’s a witch after all. “I met Tolkien, you know.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh god, please don’t tell me you were his muse too. Did he and Bram Stoker hang out in the same circles or something?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want your ego to get any bigger.”

Despite myself, I find myself smiling at her, our conversation melting into something of comfort and ease, like I’m slipping backward into a past that I don’t remember.

“Why do you care about reading the book if you’ve already found all you need to know?” Rose asks, putting a hand on her hip that nearly causes the last piece of fabric to fall, a thin charred piece that runs from her breasts to between her legs and around her hips. “You wanted it to erase me, right? Well, you’ve done that.”

“And yet here you are.”

“Yes. Here I am.”

My throat feels thick with sudden need.

She eyes me for a moment and then walks closer. I flinch and hold the book away from her, operating on some deep instinct to keep the pages safe.

“I don’t want the book, Valtu,” she says quietly, pinning me with her stare. “I want you to help me get Leif back. I want you to help me destroy Bellamy. I want my revenge.”

“You don’t need me to destroy Bellamy. You just obliterated that demon. You have more power than you think.”

“Bellamy is immortal now and has powers I can’t pretend to understand. My lightning might not stand a chance against him or the others. On top of that, I don’t know where Bellamy or Leif are. If they’re even together. You have to help me track them.”

“First of all, I don’t have to do anything,” I remind her curtly.

She glares at me. “I’m aware. That’s why I amaskingyou.”

“What makes you think I can find them? There’s no tracking spell or magic in the book. There wasn’t when Solon asked me for a decade ago, and there isn’t now.”

She looks away and makes a tiny growl of frustration.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.

“No, you’re not.”

But I am. It catches me by surprise. I actually want to help her.

I’ve turned into such a fool, I barely recognize myself.

So I put the book down on the desk and I kiss her instead.

She gasps in shock as I cover her mouth with mine, my hands disappearing into her hair, pulling her close until I feel the rest of her clothes fall away and she’s soft and naked and in my grasp. Her lips open to mine, kissing me back with a sweetness greater than honey, and my cock is instantly hard, my tongue exploring her as our kiss deepens.

“Is that all you want?” I whisper against her lips, my voice tight and hoarse as the need sweeps through me, held back by the finest thread.

She shakes her head, sadness making the green in her eyes deepen. “I want you to remember.”

“And if I never remember?”

“Then I just want to love you.”

Fuck me. Her words pierce the skin. “You shouldn’t love me, Rose. I don’t want your love. I’m not worthy of it.” My gaze drops to her mouth. “I have shown you nothing but hostility.”

A tiny smile flits across her lips and she places her hand on my cheek. She’s warm, so warm, and I am so cold. “You underestimate yourself. There is good in you. I have seen it before and I see it now. You have more dimensions than you think you do.”

“You’re remembering a man who doesn’t exist anymore.”

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