Page 69 of Blood Match
Except, it was in a dream, dammit!
Although, so was that bite, and that came back with me. Not for long, but it was there. And when I went back to the dreamscape where I’d been with Darick, I’d been strong again – Heath had seen it.
I think of steely features and icy-blue eyes.
Maybe there’s a way I can do this.
But at what cost?
“Ugh!” I huff, putting my mug down sharply on the coffee table. Cold tea splatters.
Does it matter what the cost is? Without real magic, I don’t deserve to be a Blackwood. If it wasn’t for me, Mia might be home safe right now instead of facing…
I don’t want to think about what she’s had to face. Or whether she survived her ordeal at the hands of the vampires.
It seems so ironic that the only way I can help is if I turn to one of those bloodsuckers. Not just anyone. A clan elder. Someone with power. For all I know, he could be involved in it all.
No. He wouldn’t be involved.
How do I know that? What if this whole thing is a trap? A way to get into our ranks. Take us down from within.
But even as I think it, I know it isn’t true. Somehow, I can tell that he’s not like that. Maybe it’s because we share some kind of mental bond.
“Come on, Rowan! Take a risk for once in your life,” I say out loud.
Just do it.
Pressing my fingertips to my eyelids, I give myself one last chance to change my mind. Then I take a deep breath.
“Darick? Are you there?”
23
Chapter 23
Darick
Istand at the edge of the grove, the night air cool against my skin. The waning moon bathes everything in a pale glow, casting long shadows between the ancient trees. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves, carrying the earthy scent of damp soil and moss. In the distance, a nightjar calls.
My heightened senses pick up every detail – the gentle gurgle of a nearby stream, the faint rustling of small creatures in the underbrush. The grove feels alive with an energy I can’t quite place. Magic, perhaps?
Of course it’s magic…witches have touched this place.
I hear her approach before I see her. Rowan’s heartbeat quickens as she enters the clearing, her scent – an intoxicating mix of roses and something magical – washes over me.
“I’m here,” I say, my voice low and controlled.
Rowan stops a few paces away, her eyes wary. Her hands flutter slightly, and she clasps them in front of her, fingers bunching in the white cotton of her dress. I recognize it as the one from her dream. Another small hint at the reality of it.
“You’re here,” she says stiffly.
“Yes,” I reply. “Though I’m not sure why.” Considering that she could probably set me on fire if she wanted to, I’m not sure which of us is safer right now.
She won’t do that.
I don’t know how I know that. I just do.
An awkward silence falls between us. The weight of our shared dream, the moments we’d exchanged here in this very spot, hang in the air. I can’t help but notice how the moonlight catches in her auburn hair, how it makes her skin glow. I force myself to focus on the matter at hand.