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.”
A slight smile twisted his full mouth and his light blue eyes glittered in the half light. “Yes, it was decades ago, but I memorized how you breathe that night. I replay it in my dreams.” She went motionless, caught breathless with her gaze locked on his. She had no idea what to say to that, and definitely didn’t know how to feel. The moonlight streamed in through the window, bleaching the color from his face and painting it in shades of silver. His eyes were serious, focused—intent on her in a way that made her shiver. As if he’d decided she was his. After the rejection. After all these years.
Suddenly she knew how to feel—angry.
“I have to go soon. Before I leave, I have things I need to say to you.”
“You have nothing to say that I want to hear.” Her breath hissed from between her clenched teeth.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t tell you.”
She threw her hands up. “How did you get out of the prison?” He flashed a cocky smile. “Did you really think they could keep me?”
“Yes, actually. They had you mired in charmed iron up to your neck.” She studied him. “If you could escape, why didn’t you do it earlier?”
“I didn’t have a reason until you came to see me, Bella. You still care about me. There’s still a seed of emotion in you for me. I thought I’d crushed it a long time ago, but it’s still there.” He held out a hand to her.
What? Her mind whirled with all the implications of his words.
She looked toward the door, needing a way out. There might be a bit of truth to what he said, but it wasn’t something she wanted to face right now. He’d hurt her so badly. The last thing she needed was to show him her soft underbelly again and allow him to snap out another bloody chunk.
“You presume too much,” she said in her best icy voice.
He dropped his hand.
A hard pounding on her front door made her jump. The Summer Queen’s Imperial Guard, most likely.
She leapt from the bed and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward her walk-in closet.
He resisted a little. “Where are you leading me?”
“I have a secret room behind my shoe rack.”
“Why do you have a secret room?”
She glanced at him. “Do you think I would serve in a place as treacherous as the Summer Queen’s court without a safe place to go?”
She flipped on the light and pulled a knob on the wall containing her dozens of pairs of designer shoes.