Page 110 of A Trial By Blood

“Do you think he’s waiting for someone?”

“Possibly. He seems on edge.”

“I think so too.”

Ronan’s fingers slid higher, resting below the hem of my very short dress. “You seem to have calmed, petal.”

“You have that effect on me. I feel safe when I’m with you.”

He pressed his mouth to my throat and sucked the skin there gently, making my breath catch. “You make me feel immeasurable things, all of them good.”

Warmth filled me. “I’m glad to hear it.”

His fingers slipped under my chin, and he turned my head to face him. “I don’t ever want to be parted from you, Rose, not ever. Will you move in with me?”

I grinned, then Death’s image filled my mind. I shoved him back out. There was still a chance I’d get out of this, a small one, but a chance, nonetheless. “Are you sure?”

“You’re my mate. I want you with me always.”

“And you love me,” I said, still grinning.

“With everything in me,” he said.

I kissed him and lay back, resting my head on his shoulder, somehow feeling completely safe in this room full of vipers. That’s when I saw Clay turn to the elevator that had just opened and lock on to the male who was walking out.

He was older, fit, dressed in an expensive suit, and had shrewd, some would say cruel, icy blue eyes. If he’d been human, he’d pass for someone in their mid to late fifties.

He walked in as if he owned the place and paid Clay no mind at all, even while the male’s gaze was laser-focused on the new arrival. Something strange came over me, like something pushing forward in the back of my mind. A vision. I needed something shiny. I needed blood. I bit into my palm, letting my fangs sink into my skin, and held up the wineglass in my hand.

“Rose?” Ronan lifted my fisted hand, instantly smelling my blood.

“A vision,” I said as it crept in at the corners of my mind.

Ronan’s arms tightened around me. “I’ve got you.”

I was pulled under.

An image of the older male, the one who’d just walked in, filled my mind.

He was in his home, his den, sitting behind a massive desk.

Someone knocked on the door. “Mr. Kelley. They’re here.”

He leaned back, a calculating look in his eyes. “Show them in.”

A shadow moved over his face, but I couldn’t see who stood opposite him.

“Let me see it then,” his new guest said, voice harsh, urgent. “This had better not be another dud, Kelley.”

“I’ve been assured it’s not.” He smiled, opened the drawer of his desk, and pulled out a small carved effigy, setting it on the desk.

A hand snatched it up, and Kelley watched, not looking quite so confident anymore. “It’s a fucking copy.” The other male roared and threw the effigy across the room—

The vision dissipated, drifting from my mind, bringing me back to the here and now.

“Rose?” Ronan’s voice was rough, concerned.

“I’m here,” I said as he lifted my palm and sucked on the puncture wounds I’d made, sealing them closed. “It’s him. The older male who walked in, he’s definitely Oliver Kelly.”