"I'll have that and so much more..."
* * * *
* * * *
Rose shook her head at Nola's door after they saw her inside.
"Wow, she's certainly enthusiastic,” she said as she began to walk the short distance back to her room. Glen walked with her. “Are you sure she's a changed-blood? I can't smell anything with this damn congestion."
"Yeah, she's definitely a were.” He stopped outside of her room. “She's new, but she sounds almost like she knows what she's talking about."
"Yeah, and I don't like that about her."
"Rose—"
"No, Glen, listen to me. I'm getting a strange feeling about her. I can't explain what it is, but it's like I've met her before. I don't like her."
"Don't tell me you're developing psychic powers, too."
Rose sucked in a breath at the verbal blow. She didn't need the reminder about why Jason had left. She closed her eyes. Her headache had begun to pound ruthlessly against her sinuses. She felt the pressure just behind her eyes and nose. She rubbed the bridge of her nose again.
"No, I don't think so. It's instinct. The wolf doesn't like her. And I can't even catch her scent to tell if I do know her or not."
"Probably not, Rose. If you did know her, then I think I would too. I didn't recognize her scent."
"Wish I could be sure of that myself,” Rose grumbled. “I can't help being suspicious."
Glen sighed a bit and touched her shoulder. “I suggest you don't let it bother you. You've got too much on your mind anyway. Go lay down. Rest for a bit. I can handle anything that comes up."
She knew better than to argue with him. Besides, she was too tired. She only nodded in agreement. Glen watched her a moment.
"It was kinda funny though, when she thought we were a couple.” A grin widened on Glen's face. Rose shuddered overdramatically.
"Gross.” She stuck her tongue out at him and then laughed when Glen embraced her. It was easy to laugh when he did it. He wrapped one arm around her and hugged her close.
"I love you, kid."
She kissed his stubbly cheek. “Yeah, I know. People just can't help it."
"Damn straight. Glad you're not upset anymore."
"I'm too tired to be upset."
"You are looking a little pale."
"Yeah, I just need to lie down for a bit. Been busy today."
"I know. Get some rest. Do you want me to wake you in a few hours for dinner?"
"Yeah, sure. That'll be fine."
"Good. Maybe we can finish showing Nola around then. She'll probably be hungry then too."
Rose's smile faded. She didn't like the idea of being around Nola again, but it couldn't be helped. How strange that her attitude changed from wanting to meet her, to loathing the young woman in such a short time after meeting her. It was probably her hormones bothering her. She nodded a little to herself at the explanation.
Glen squeezed her shoulder. “I'll see you later.” He kissed the top of her head. “Sleep well. Oh, and you can give me the admissions papers later so I can file them away."
"All right. Thanks, Glen."
He smiled at her one final time then walked away. His footfalls echoed and disappeared as he vanished down the hall. She waited outside her room for a moment before pulling out her key and unlocking the door.
She pushed it open easily and entered. The room was dark, but Rose's werewolf vision cut through the shadows quickly. It was great having night vision, she had always thought, but now she wanted to see nothing but the back of her eyelids.
She shut the door behind her and flipped the light switch on. Regardless of how well she could see in the dark, she needed light. Her room was well furnished; Glen had seen to that. Some of the furniture from the cabin she and Jason once shared was supposed to make it feel more like home, but it did the opposite. It made her feel alone, trapped. It reminded her constantly that Jason was gone and might not be coming back.
She dropped her keys on the desk near the door, pausing once to look at the dark computer screen. She hadn't turned it on in weeks. Her job writing human interest articles was long gone. Her editors claimed her work was lacking and sporadic. She missed several deadlines, so they let her go. Rose didn't really mind. Money was no longer an issue since she had received part of Claire's inheritance. The job held too much stress anyway.
Still, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of remorse that she was no longer doing what she loved, writing.
Even her creative urges seemed quelled. The books she had once written and self-published seemed like a dream. They hadn't done well. Her portrayal of the supernatural didn't seem fantastic enough and they flopped. Her books were never destined to be best sellers, but Rose had always been determined to follow up with something better. That dream had fallen into dust after Simon stepped into their lives a second time.
Without her writing and her job, there was nothing Rose could do. She didn't want to stay at the cabin alone in her condition. The place had been destroyed by Simon in one of his violent searches for her and Jason. She didn't want to stay there with the reminders of Jason and the remnants of Simon's destruction. Glen had been gracious to offer her a position on the PRDI team and to allow her to live there.
She sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed—our bed, she had to remind herself.
Rose eased back among the pillows and closed her eyes, her arms folding over her stomach. She could feel the baby move around. She pressed her hands against her stomach and felt the baby's firm kick.
The kid would be born in a month or so and then what? Like it or not, she was alone in this. The thought made her sinus headache feel worse, and she closed her eyes. It felt like a jackhammer was pounding on her brain and a knife slicing through her heart. She moved her hands from her stomach, no longer wanting to feel the baby move. Instead she rested them on her chest, feeling the steady beating of her heart.
It was a wonder it beat at all, she thought.
She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes. Her dresser, the only furniture she had from the mother she hardly knew, loomed in the corner. The mirror above the dresser reflected light from the overhead bulb and her reflection was illuminated.
But she didn't want to look at herself.
Her eyes focused on the glittering rings dangling on a silver chain from the center spoke at the top of the mirror. Her wedding ring and engagement ring, side by side, were tokens of love she once cherished. And just like the baby growing inside her, it was a painful memory of what had happened. She couldn't even wear them anymore.
Rolling over so she wouldn't have to face them, Rose closed her eyes and drew one of her pillows close to her body. She didn't like to think of it, but the nagging memories would not leave her alone. If Rose had a time machine, she would not hesitate to go back in time and change things. The first thing she would do is make sure Simon Conner was really dead the first time.
Then, Jason's obsession with him would've been quelled and there wouldn't be this irreparable rift between them. It would've stopped Simon's return and it would've stopped her from giving in and mating with him.
Rose still felt sick when she thought of Simon touching her. It made her feel even worse to think she had enjoyed it.
No, the wolf had enjoyed it, she reminded herself. She had been in heat, overcome by her uncontrollable lust and she had given in to Simon. If we hadn't had sex, then I wouldn't be pregnant, she thought. She felt definitely sure the child was Simon's, not Jason's.
She felt a wave of nausea suddenly and she didn't know if it was from the pregnancy or something else. She sighed and curled up around the pillow, resting it against the curve of her pooched-out stomach. She hated being pregnant. The vomiting, the back-aches, the heartburn, the swollen feet, and the sometimes sudden need to pee were definitely not on her list of favorite things. She was really starting to wish she did have that time machine.
Rose tried not to think about Jason or Simon or anything else.
She was tired, her head hurt and she just wanted to sleep. She snuggled closer to her pillow and parted her lips, breathing through her mouth as she had grown accustomed to over the course of her sinus infection.
Soon, she was drifting off into sleep, the only time she didn't have to worry about the baby. The only time she was safe and free.
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Chapter Four
He stood in the foyer of the PRDI's main building. He hated being here. He had found it to be a dangerous place for werewolves, or any supernatural creature for that matter, to congregate in or associate with. Nothing good had come from the PRDI. He had a firm dislike for the Institute, though it had served a suitable home for his mate and her cousin.
But it wasn't hatred Jason Barnett felt at this particular moment. It was confusion. The place looked the same, he noticed, but it didn't feel the same. There was a strange scent on the air. It smelled to him like lavender, soft and gentle. It was a lovely scent overall, but it didn't belong here.
Slowly, Jason began to look around, starting towards his right. There was a room there with the door closed. His eyes passed over it, turning to the staircase. There was nothing amiss there. The hallway seemed empty as well as he turned his vision full circle again. Blinking, he stepped forward.
The hair on his arms began to rise and he felt a chill course through his entire body. He tried not to shiver, but found the icy embrace too much to ignore. He stopped in the center of the foyer and focused his gaze directly in front of him. Something was happening.
From the shadows, a shape began to emerge. Jason tensed, his hand going for the gun he always kept holstered at his waist. He brought his fingers around it, about to remove it from its holster, when the shadows took on a definite shape.
His fingers didn't relax on his weapon as the ghostly form of a woman materialized in front of him. For a moment, she was ethereal. He could see right through to the wall behind her. Then a moment passed and she was whole.
She had the brightest red hair he had ever seen on a woman. It fell down her back in cascading curls, touching her waist. Her eyes were closed so it appeared as if she were sleeping, if that were possible to do standing up.
If it weren't for the one long grey streak of hair that fell against the right side of her face, and the small lines around her eyes and mouth, he would've guessed her to be a young woman. He blinked several times and wet his lips. Was she a ghost, some sort of apparition? He opened his mouth to speak but immediately shut it.
Her eyes flew open revealing brilliant green eyes. They shone like emeralds, sparkling with life. But she wasn't looking at him. It was as if she were looking through him. It puzzled him, but then again a lot of things did.
Like why he had come back to the PRDI? He didn't remember wanting to come here, he just suddenly was. He had been thinking of Rose, wondering how she was, and then he was here. He shook the thought away and studied the woman.
She was looking right at him, but without seeing him. Her skin was white, like the plain shapeless nightgown she wore. He watched her, waiting for her to move. He didn't have to wait very long.
Her lips moved as she said something, but even with his preternatural hearing, he couldn't hear what she said. He stepped back as she moved forward and turned her head toward the staircase. She moved toward it with slow, unearthly steps. Her gown trailed the floor behind her.
Uncertain just who she was—or what she was for that matter—or why she was here, Jason decided to follow. He eased his hand from the gun at his side and started after her.
The woman moved toward the steps, clearly not in a hurry to explore her surroundings. She paused more than once, stopping fully to look around. Her hand, quite solid, touched the banister.
"It's real.” Jason heard her whisper this time. “I'm really here."
A puzzled look came over her face. Her pale eyebrows drew together in confusion and she withdrew her hand from the wall. “It's changed so much."
She stood there for the longest time, not moving. Jason edged closer to her. Was she sleepwalking? Impossible. He knew enough about the supernatural to know that ghosts didn't sleep walk. A better question would be: what was she?
He puzzled on it more as he came to a stop just behind her. She was within touching distance, if he held his hand out at arm's length. Cold emanated from her, sending a shocking chill through Jason. Definitely ghostly.
But she was solid. To his knowledge, ghosts and spirits weren't solid. But what did he really know? He had never been a student of the PRDI. He knew nothing about this sort of thing.
He stretched out his hand, slowly, reaching to touch a stray strand of her hair as it fell across her shoulder, but she began to move and he hastily drew it back. She turned, but not fully. Her bright gaze scanned the room. Once more she mouthed something Jason couldn't catch then began to move once again, slowly heading down one of the long corridors.
Jason followed, curious but cautious. He resisted the temptation to open his mouth and demand who she was. She seemed to be sleepwalking. He had been through enough experiences with Rose's sleepwalking in the past to spot all the signs but there was something different. Though she moved languidly, there seemed to be a purpose to what she was doing and her eyes were clear—not glazed and spacey as Rose's had been when she would sleepwalk.
He continued to follow her as she made her way down the hallway. Though lit, the corridor was dim, crowded. He didn't let her out of his sight, trailing behind her only a few feet back. She stopped about halfway down the hall and turned her head to the right, staring at one of the doors.
"Here,” she whispered. He stopped when she did, daring not to breathe as she moved forward and put out her hand. It closed around the doorknob and pushed it open with ease. Jason peered around her shoulder.
The room was lit brightly and he could see a sleeping form lying on the bed. The woman slipped over the threshold into the room and stopped. Jason nearly collided into her, but stopped just in time, grabbing hold of the door to keep from falling forward.
"That woman,” she said softly. Her hand, shaking, drew to her mouth, touching her pale lips.
What woman? Jason wanted to ask, but he turned his head to look where her eyes had turned. The bed looked familiar—and so did the shape curled up in it. His heart literally stopped for a moment, then kicked back up again at super-speed when he recognized it as Rose. He took in a deep sniff.
It was definitely her.
She lay on her side, a pillow curled up to her stomach like she usually did when she slept. She still looked as beautiful as ever, her dark hair falling across her shoulder. Her lips were parted, her breathing soft.
This was the first time he had seen her in months. He suddenly felt a twinge of pain, of guilt when he looked at her. He had left her all alone. It seemed like ages ago, and for a moment he couldn't remember why he had done so.
Then memory hit him like a ton of bricks. It had to deal with Simon, with Rose's betrayal. It had to do with his growing psychic powers. Mostly, it had to deal with his fear. He feared hurting her. When Rose had returned home, smelling of sex and Simon, he went wild with rage. In that rage, he had almost forced her in his dominance. He had really hurt her.
So he had left for both reasons—to find out more about his psychic powers and to keep himself from hurting the only person he really loved.
He fought to keep from rushing to her side by pressing back against the door. He watched as the strange red-haired woman moved forward.
"This woman. Something about her, something sad...” She trailed off, blinking in confusion as she stared at her. She had moved quickly—Jason hadn't even seen her—and now stood at the foot of the bed.
A sudden surge of possessiveness and protectiveness coursed through him and the wolf within growled deep in his throat. The sound, clearly inhuman, broke the silence around them and startled the seemingly sleepwalking woman.
"Get away from her."
The woman turn
ed. She saw him now. Her mouth fell open and she froze.
"Get away from her. Leave her alone.” He started forward, but stopped. The woman was beginning to fade away, just as she had arrived. She became transparent, save for her eyes. They burned into him.
"Who are you?” she asked in barely a whisper. “You look just like him..."
But her voice faded away just as she did. Then she was gone and there was nothing left but shadow.
"Look like who?” Jason demanded into the thin air. He searched the room, wondering if she would materialize elsewhere. But she didn't. “Who do I look like?"
She was completely gone and Rose was beginning to stir in the bed. Jason turned to look at her as she began to sit up. Her eyes, merely slits in her sleep, fought to gain focus. She clutched the pillow about her midsection.
"Jason?” she murmured sleepily. She started to rub her eyes.
"Rose, I'm sorry,” he tried to say, but he found no sound came from him. The room was beginning to darken and the bed, with Rose in it, began to fade away.
"No.” He looked down. He was fading as well. He held up a hand. He could see right through it. “Rose!"
But Rose was gone now. There was nothing but darkness.
* * * *
* * * *
Rose sat up in bed, shivering. The room had grown very cold, far too cold for a June evening. She pulled the pillow closer to her stomach.
Something had woken her, but it wasn't just the cold air. She had heard a voice and it had sounded like Jason. For a moment, in her still sleepy mind, she thought she saw him, standing by the foot of her bed, but when she rubbed her eyes, he was gone.
It must've been a dream. It had to have been a dream—that, or her eyes were playing tricks on her. She rubbed them again to be sure. Jason wasn't there.
She sniffed and felt a sharp pain in her nose from her blocked nostrils. She sniffed again, but gained no relief. With a groan, Rose slid out of the bed and grabbing a handful of tissues from the bedside table. She blew her nose then sniffed again. She could breathe again but she knew it wouldn't last. Her sense of smell was still off.
Dark Moon Magick [The Moon Series: Book 4] Page 4