By the morning Bella’s will had been done. All that was left of the woman’s beautiful garden was rows of drooping gray flower heads and scorched grass.
That was Unseelie magick, dark magick. Bella had begun to wonder about her bloodline. Began to suspect. And then she’d noticed some of her other stray dark thoughts begin to manifest: her wish that her mother’s piano would be destroyed so she wouldn’t have to take lessons anymore; her hope that the water main in the school would break so they would have a free day.
And then she’d known for certain she was strong Unseelie.
She’d wondered if her mother had had an affair with one of the Unseelie court males, but the Rose and Black Towers had almost no interaction at all. In addition, her mother’s blood hardly ran hot, and she was not at all inclined to passion or impulsiveness. No, it was more likely that her father was really her father, but that somewhere down her genetic line someone had strayed to Unseelie and by some trick of fate the blood had shown up so gloriously bright in her.
Unwilling to worry them, Bella had never confronted her parents about her dark art. If she was discovered with Unseelie blood, the Summer Queen would banish her entire family from the Rose Tower and, as their money was dependent on the court, they’d be left destitute. She’d simply learned to lock down her thoughts with an iron will, not allowing herself to do any damage to anyone, making sure she didn’t inadvertently back any negative thoughts with magick.
Luckily her ability to manipulate physical flame had also developed and she could present that soft, benign magickal face to the world. She could blow out candles from across the room and make the fire in her hearth grow brighter or dimmer—that’s all that power was strong enough for. But strength of magick wasn’t a prized asset in the Rose Tower. Here it was all about your bloodline . . . and your fashion sense.
It was better for people to think her a weak Tuatha Dé Danann with pure blood than the powerful Unseelie she suspected she was.
Bella had confided her secret in Aislinn because Aislinn also possessed Unseelie blood. It had forged a bond between them and they became closer than sisters. Perhaps some subconscious link had drawn them to be friends in childhood; Bella didn’t know. She was just grateful they had each other to lean on.
Maybe Ronan suspected the blight on her bloodline. Maybe that was why he’d rejected her . . . twice.
“Stubborn man,” she muttered and slammed her bedroom door shut.
Lying awake in her bed, Bella heard a slight sound a moment before a huge hand closed over her mouth. Terror jolted through her veins and she kicked and struggled until Ronan’s face came into view.
“Don’t scream.”
She shook her head and he released her. Bella scrambled back away from him a little. “You scared a year off my life, Ronan! How did you get out? Why are you here?”
“I’m here because you’re here, Bell.”
Bell. Once she’d loved it when he’d called her that.
“Bella.”
“I came because I had to talk to you.”
“Talk to me? You broke out of prison just to talk to me?” She blinked. Was she still dreaming? Nope, wide awake. “You’re slated for death in the morning.”
He grinned. “Did you really think I was going to stick around for that?”
“I never thought you had a choice.”
He was not wearing a shirt. The realization slammed into her fast and hard. Not only was Ronan in her bedroom in the middle of the night, he was shirtless. A bare-chested Ronan was her worst weakness.
She refused to let her gaze slide down past his broad shoulders to that muscular, golden silk-over-steel expanse. If she looked at his chest, she’d want to glide her hands over it, and she couldn’t afford such brainless impulses right now.
“Seems I did.”
“You turned down my offer of marriage. Did you prefer death to being with me?”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Am I?” She made a frustrated sound and looked away from him. “Look, I don’t want to bicker with you right now. I was sleeping. What gives you the right to break in here and harass me?” She waved her hand. “Just go off and try to escape. Good luck with that, by the way. I predict you’ll be back in charmed iron by morning.”
“You weren’t sleeping.”
“How do you know?” She hadn’t been, of course. How could she sleep knowing the morning would bring his head rolling across the throne room floor?
“I remember the way you breathe when you sleep, Bella.”
Her chest tightened and all rational thought left her for a moment. They’d never had sex, but they had slept together once. Just once. He’d held her from twilight until dawn. It was one of the times in her life when she’d felt perfectly content, so she recalled it vividly. “That was decades ago and it was only one time. There’s no way you could remember that.”