And it felt true, at least for as long as we remained here, in my bedroom, inside Bell House. Wyn surrendered to sleep, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. I stayed by his side, watching him sleep, listening to the gentle catches of his breath, the inaudible murmurs that escaped his dreams, and luxuriating in the peace of the moment. No fears, no threats, just me and him, alone together. When he woke, I would have to tell himabout the wolf at the DeSoto, my latest visions. Eventually he would have to tell me what the pack knew about Cole’s death and my part in the act. But for now, we could simply be.
Only when I was sure he was fully lost in his dreams did I slip out of his embrace, sliding off the bed on unreliable legs and reaching for one of the rose-wrapped wooden posts to secure my balance. With a sharp intake of breath, I pulled my hand away, a lightning flash of pain disturbing the tranquil moment. I’d forgotten roses had thorns. When I turned my hand over, a single pinprick of ruby red blood bloomed above my heart line. It quivered, fighting gravity in order to decide its own path and trickling down to where my life line met the fate line. Slowly, the droplet split in two, bleeding into both lines. I stared at my hand until the blood ran all the way down my wrist and along my forearm, when I snapped to my senses and wiped it off with the back of my sleeve.
It didn’t mean anything.
While Wyn slept, I blew on the climbing roses, casting the petals all around the room and watching sadly as they disappeared back beneath the floorboards.
‘You’re here, you’re safe,’ I swore to him as his eyelids flickered, dreaming of something I could not see. ‘And we have forever.’
Chapter Seventeen
Wyn was still sleeping when I felt Lydia crossing Lafayette Square, on the march towards Bell House.
‘What, no Fido?’
Ashley lowered her tattered paperback to observe me tearing down the stairs and past the parlour door, in an attempt to beat my best friend to the door before she could ring the bell.
‘He needs to rest,’ I replied, backtracking three breathless steps. ‘So if you could be quiet?’
‘Got it,’ she replied with a thumbs up. ‘Let sleeping dogs lie.’
It didn’t deserve a response, which was just as well since I had no time to come up with one.
‘Aggressive,’ Lydia said with a grunt as I threw the door open and tackled her across the porch. ‘Some might even say unnecessary.’
‘Sorry,’ I winced as she rubbed her ribs. Sometimes I forgot I was stronger than I used to be. ‘Wyn is upstairs asleep, I didn’t want the doorbell to wake him.’
‘Wyn’s here?’ Her eyes widened at the scent of scandal. ‘In your bedroom? Asleep? Girl, did you tire him out already?’
‘He’s tired because he drove down overnight,’ I told her,slipping my arm through hers and leading her around to the back garden. ‘Don’t get excited, nothing happened.’
‘Tell that to the stubble rash on your chin.’
She pointed at my face and cackled when I looked away.
‘Thanks for answering my questions anyways,’ she said, arms folded over her cropped blue button-down, one eyebrow quirked upward. ‘I was going to ask where you’d gotten to, but I know I can’t compete with his wolfiness up there.’
‘What are you talking about? I came by earlier,’ I told her. ‘Your grandmother said you were busy, told me to leave.’
‘Virginiatold you toleave?’
She looked and sounded as though it was the most scandalous thing she had ever heard and I confirmed with a grim nod.
‘I think her exact words were neither her daughter, granddaughter or grandson wanted to see me ever again because I’m a bad influence.’
‘Damn.’
She dropped into a wrought-iron chair and swatted at a mosquito as it flew by her bare midriff. Mosquitoes loved Lydia.
‘That’s practically my grandmother’s version of spitting in someone’s face. Why didn’t she just slap you and have done with it?’
‘That’s what it felt like,’ I replied, perching on the edge of the seat across from her, our knees touching under the table. ‘Looks like she wasn’t nearly as impressed with Jackson’s overnight cover story as everyone thought she would be.’
I pulled a couple of leaves from a nearby lemon verbena plant, massaging them between my finger and thumb to release the oils for extra protection against the mosquitoes, then handed them to my friend.
Suddenly another horrifying thought occurred to me.
‘Oh God,’ I gasped, crushing another leaf in my palm. ‘Lyds, what if she told your mom?’
