RoseBlood(91)

Thorn caught Rune before she face-planted next to his boots. She looked up, blinking, not fully cognizant.

“H-how’d Diable get up here?” She rubbed her eyes as he settled her to sit back on the bench. “Oh, yeah. Ghost kitty.”

Thorn frowned. It was taking her longer than he’d anticipated to come down from the drunken crest of energy they’d shared. How was she going to manage the trek downstairs?

She leaned forward, elbows on knees, so low her hair hid her face.

He could scoop her up and carry her. He’d prefer that, with her warmth nestled against him—as close as possible to the citrusy vanilla clinging to those glossy strands wound about her head.

Diable darted past, Ange chasing him this time. Her wings splayed low as she waddle-hopped behind. She stretched her neck and chomped the cat’s tail. Diable let out a nerve-wracking yowl.

Rune sat up straighter, though still wobbly. She peered through her hair. “Why aren’t you doing something? They’re going to kill each other!”

Thorn steadied her. “They’re fine. Tag is their favorite game. They were playing it that day we first met in the chapel. Ange doesn’t need our help any more than Diable needed yours then.”

“But . . . he was drowning.”

Thorn rolled his eyes. “That was a ruse on his part to get your attention. He was sweet on you from the beginning. Cats are naturally afraid of water but can overcome it. I made sure Diable could swim ever since he was a tiny kitten, because of where we live.” Thorn winced. The less Rune knew about the Phantom’s lair, the safer she was. He must be energy-drunk himself to let that slip.

One glance at her face and the ribbon marks on his arm sizzled with hot friction as if in confirmation.

“Where you live . . . under the opera house, with the Phantom,” she reasoned, knotting her unruly waves at the back of her head. Her mind was getting clearer by the second. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

“Enough chatter.” He cupped her elbow and helped her stand. “It’s time.”

Misreading his intentions, she snuggled close. “Finally,” she mumbled, her head against his chest, all of her curves pressed to him—softness and trembling expectations. “I was wondering when we were going to dance.” Her fingertips slid up his back, igniting a voltaic charge through his entire body. The force of their bond took even him off guard. Their link had coalesced faster than he expected.

“No.” He pushed her away. She was steady on her feet now, so his tone harshened. “Time for you to go.”

She flashed him a bewildered pout that flung him back into the moment he’d traced her lips. His thumb twitched, craving that sensual perusal again.

“What do you mean, go? After everything you told me about me and my family? After what just happened between us?” She dragged her sweater’s cuff down to cover her ribbon tattoo. “You don’t drop life-altering things like that on someone and send them on their way!”

“You’re not safe up here.” He shoved her tote into her hands, hating that his roughness rocked her back a step.

Her eyes scanned the rooftop. “From what?”

He shook his head, feeling each second slice through him like a scalpel. He had to get home and assure the Phantom was where he had left him. Time was already short enough without Erik looking over his shoulder. “Go get some rest.”

She frowned as Ange and Diable darted by in their periphery. “Like that’s a possibility. My friends all hate me. My aunt despises me as much as my grandma. And now I have to find some way to cut school and visit the prison.” She held the bag against her chest like a breastplate of armor as she studied her father’s violin case. “You’re coming to the vent, aren’t you?”

Imploring eyes turned up to him, wide, green, and edged with filigrees of gold—an enticing testament to their spiritual fusion. They would sparkle like jewels for hours. He wished he could be there to watch them fade, so he could light them up again.

“Please,” she continued to torment. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I need you to stay with me . . . to play a song for me. It’s the only way I’ll fall asleep.”

Longing clawed through his chest. She might have the sense to be scared, if she knew how much he wanted to stay with her, and not on the other side of some damned wall with a violin filling his arms, coaxing out fantasy serenades. No. He wanted to hold her while tangled in the covers on her bed, flesh to flesh—coaxing out the beast she was so frightened to become.

He wanted to end the evening on that note, with a promise she’d never spend another night alone. But the masquerade would be here too soon, and there were traps to be discovered, loose ends to tie up, and a harrowing secret still between them.

“I can’t stay with you.” His response was designed to cut with its spiky edges and sharp apathy. “I have things to do.”

“Ah.” Her voice cracked. “Things to do.” With only a grunt to warn him, she kicked the mask on the roof between their feet. It slammed his heel with such force, the crack in the forehead fissured like a busted eggshell. He was impressed by the power behind the angry gesture, knowing their merge had given her that burst of strength. But the hurt looking back at him crushed any satisfaction. “FYI,” she snarled. “Having some magical thread between us that can stretch across the universe doesn’t take the place of being physically there when I need you.”