Page 5 of A Trial By Blood

Winter had set in, and frost floated past my lips as I looked up to the window on the second floor of the Thornheart family home. Rose’s room. I strode toward my destination; something inside me, on a demon level, drew me to this house, to Rose again and again. I didn’t understand it; coming here every day wasn’t logical, and I wanted to understand it.

But the only thing I was certain of was this was where I had to be.

Using my powers and lifting my block, essentially turning me into the invisible man, I could move anywhere I wanted undetected. Doors and walls were no barrier to me. When I’d been Azel’s servant, I’d concealed our home, an entire mansion.

The hair on the back of my neck lifted, and a strange feeling, as if my stomach was suddenly hollow, came over me. It happened a lot when I thought of my time with Azel. Something else I didn’t understand. I quickly shut down the memory and walked right through the front door as if it weren’t there and into the Thornheart residence.

It was quiet, the curtains still drawn, the family still asleep in their beds. I took the stairs to Rose’s door. It was slightly ajar, as always. I walked in and searched out her frail figure in the shadows, so small under the covers.

Magnolia was asleep in the chair beside the bed, and Nia, Iris’s familiar, lay on the bed with Rose, pressed to her side. The dog’s big brown eyes were trained on Rose. Nia was here a lot, even without Iris. Lately, she helped the family watch Rose at night. Rose tended to have her episodes then, times when she would occasionally stop breathing altogether. So while Magnolia slept, Nia would watch her.

There was another chair on the other side of the bed, and I took it. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t stay here all night and watch her myself. It seemed logical to me. They could rest, and I would keep her safe. But when I mentioned it to Relic, the hellhound said I shouldn’t do that. That it would seem odd to the family. I couldn’t say one way or the other if that was true, which was why I deferred to the hounds when I had a question about such things. They’d spent more time with humans, or at least beings who understood emotions, and had a good grasp on what was expected as far as social etiquette went.

He didn’t understand that I needed to keep Rose safe, which was why I came anyway. I just didn’t tell anyone.

My gaze moved over her face. When I was in the same room as her, I struggled to look anywhere else, and when I was away from her, I was clock-watching until whatever took me from her was over so I could return.

Again, I didn’t understand it, but as an emotionless being, the only thing I could rely on was instinct. I’d ignored it most of my life, had denied that part of myself, even when it screamed at me to leave, to run, to hide. I’d been conditioned to ignore it. The day I left Azel was the first time I’d truly listened. And the hounds, who also struggled with emotions, had helped me to understand why I should keep on doing it.

Rose whimpered in her sleep, her arms coming out of the covers, her head shifting on the pillow. I stood and leaned over her, my instincts telling me to touch her, to try to soothe her. Again, something I didn’t know anything about, but I’d watched Rose’s sisters with her, and with their mates. Touch seemed to be the key to soothing someone in distress. That, and softening your voice when you spoke.

I expanded my block, so Rose was with me, and lay my hand against her cool skin. Touch. “You are safe, Rose,” I said, pitching my voice low. I wasn’t sure of the correct words, but safety seemed appropriate and something everyone desired.

She whimpered again, and the sound caused a tightening in my chest that grew wider. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation. Why were my hands trembling? I’d have to ask Relic what the physical response meant. “Be at ease, Rose.”

Her hand suddenly gripped mine. I stilled and looked down at the way she clung to me. I found I didn’t want her to let go, but finally, she stopped her thrashing and drifted back into a deep sleep. Her hand slipped from mine.

I pulled my power back, so it only surrounded me, and took my seat again, but for some reason, left my hand close to hers even though she wasn’t touching me anymore.

I continued to watch her as she slept.

As always, I lost time when I was with this female, and I jolted in surprise when Daisy, Rose’s mother, walked into the room. Magnolia had woken, and Nia was no longer on the bed. Somehow, I hadn’t noticed any of it.

Daisy gently woke her daughter, and my muscles locked like they always did when her eyes opened and her blue gaze moved around the room, like she was searching for something. Daisy sat beside her, taking her daughter’s hand, and I did what I always did at this time; I walked back down the stairs and through the front door, then back to my car. After making sure no one was watching, I dropped the block concealing it and me, then took the paper bag holding the fresh apricot danish I’d picked up for Rose’s breakfast on my way here and headed back to the house.

I knocked this time, and a sleepy-eyed Else, Rose’s seventy-two-year-old great aunt, opened the door. Her lips curled up. “Morning, sunshine,” she said and looked down at the paper bag in my hand. “What’s on the menu this morning?”

“Good morning, Else. An apricot danish.” We did this every morning. I understood this to be a normal social exchange, what was expected, so I engaged for Else’s benefit.

She chuckled. “Go on up then. I’m sure Rose is expecting you.”

I didn’t know why she was smiling or chuckling, and I didn’t understand the look in her eyes. They were always sharp but softened somewhat whenever she opened the door to me. “Yes, as I come by every morning, I expect she is.”

She chuckled again. “Exactly.” She patted my arm, then limped off toward the kitchen.

I took the stairs two at a time. The murmur of voices reached me before I got to the top. Daisy was still there, and I paused at the door and knocked this time, something else Relic had told me to do. Walking into a female’s bedroom without knocking was not something you should do, apparently.

“Come in, Ronan,” Daisy called.

“Good morning, Daisy,” I said, showing Rose’s mother the proper respect before I turned to Rose. I’d been gone only a matter of minutes, but again, my muscles tightened. Her blue eyes were huge in her face. She still looked tired, but her lips curled in greeting, like her aunt’s had when she saw me. “Good morning, Rose.”

“Good morning, Ronan,” she said. Her soft voice was weaker this morning.

“How are you feeling today? You look tired.”

Her smile changed but remained, and her eyes seemed to sparkle. “You just answered your own question.”

“Yes, I suppose I did,” I said and moved to the seat I’d sat in a short time ago, placing the paper bag with her danish on the bedside table.