Page 21 of The Healer (The Blood of Legends #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

BLOOD DOESN’T LIE

I lona awoke with her nose smashed against a pectoral muscle an inch or two away from a nipple. The woodsy scent of Rhys’s velvet skin filled her senses as the warmth of him beckoned her to snuggle deeper into his embrace. She had never slept in a man’s arms before, and the sense of security it summoned had to be an illusion.

He stirred and rubbed his hand up her back, taking her shirt with it. Groaning when he encountered bare skin, he shifted, tightening his arm around her.

“Morning.” His sleep-drenched voice hardened her nipples. It promised sensual delights the world had never seen. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” She drew in a deep breath through her nose, proving her sinuses were clear even as his scent filled her lungs. A cold could last weeks. Dane’s blood flowing through her veins had to have played a role in healing her this swiftly.

Rhys flipped her onto her back, pinned her to the bed, and entangled his limbs with hers. “Lunar, I love waking with you in my arms.”

Claiming her lips, he sliced his hot mouth across hers. He plunged in, unapologetic, as he conquered her. She fought him with her tongue, which only deepened the kiss. He tore away with a guttural groan.

“You rattle my control, Lona. From the moment you stubbornly refused to get in your car and leave me out in the snow. Your husky voice, your lavender scent.” He dipped his face into the curve of her neck and inhaled. “Beautiful.”

“I’m not…ready for whatever this is, Rhys. Not by a long shot.”

He stilled, pushing himself into a plank position. “What happened, sweetheart?”

She shook her head, not wanting to talk about it, not wanting it to be real as if speaking it confirmed her worst nightmare.

“Is that why you whimper in your sleep?” He lowered himself, his length and weight pinning her again. Instead of trapping or smothering her, his presence melted her resolve.

Cupping her cheeks, he stole short, sweet kisses, between tugging at her bottom lip with his. His persistence didn’t piss her off. He made her feel cherished. He didn’t deepen the kiss but waited for her to respond. Patience flowed off him. He acted as if he needed to know her thoughts like they mattered to him.

“No screaming, pleading, or wailing?” She expected worse than whimpering.

“Ilona, please, tell me.”

She released a shuddering breath and slipped her arms around his waist. “About three weeks ago…” On cue, the tears formed and slipped free. With her hands on him, she couldn’t wipe them away, couldn’t press her fingertips to her eyes to stem the flow. So, she lowered her gaze, letting the tears fall. “My parents died.” Those three words tore through her, and she sobbed. “Me, a doctor, and I couldn’t save them.”

“Oh, Lona, sweetheart.” He rolled over, taking her with him. His arms tightened around her, keeping her close.

His embrace, like Dane’s, opened the floodgates, and she cried great shuddering sobs. Rhys whispered sweet nothings but held her for as long as she needed him too.

He rubbed her back or rocked her until her tears dwindled. “Tell me about your folks, Lona. What did you love the most?”

Her heart swelled to bursting, and right then, she knew she was in trouble. As she blurted out her parents’ idiosyncrasies, and he listened and laughed with her, she tried to build a wall around her heart. Any man who cared enough to endure her blubbering was a man to avoid. Without a doubt, he would break her heart because loving him meant losing him.

Not if she went with him, if she researched the healing efficacy of shifter blood. As boyfriends went, one who couldn’t get sick halved her chances of them dying and breaking her heart. She could only find out by going with him.

“Feel like pancakes, bacon, maple syrup, fresh coffee?” Rubbing his thumb across her bottom lip, he dipped his head and kissed her, moaning when she parted her mouth for his intrusion. He shuddered, his heartbeat thumping through their chest cavities. Power rushed over her, at her ability to affect such a virile man.

He leaned back and brushed the curls off her temple. “I could warm the soup?”

“No leftover pizza?” she teased, suspecting he had eaten it all.

A slow smile crawled across his face, warming the deep blue of his eyes. “I definitely want to date you.”

“So you keep saying.” She grinned. “But instead of enticing me with your gorgeous body and boyish charm, you’re bribing me with your laboratory and your blood.” She twisted her lips to imply that was weird but ruined it with a chuckle.

“I didn’t think just me would be enough.”

His honest answer smothered her laughter, and there before her, was a man as insecure as she was. “Rhys, you’re a wonderful man, and you are more than enough. It’s just that I can’t live through losing someone I love. Not again.”

“You choose not to love?” He frowned. “Ilona, that’s not how love works. When you don’t want it, it will find you.”

“I’m doomed to love because I don’t want to?” She closed her eyes at the sincerity in his. She could love him, and if he continued to be sweet, kind, considerate, loving him might happen faster. “Be mean to me, no sweet gestures, no typical boyfriend behavior.”

“I’m your boyfriend? I’ll take that as a win.” He laughed, the husky quality of it reverberating through her. “Lunar above, Ilona, love doesn’t work like that either. Are you curious about me, my life, my origins? Do you want to spend time with me? Do you find me attractive? How does any non-boyfriend behavior impact any of those questions?”

Her breath hitched. She wanted to know the answers, to learn what had molded such a remarkable man. “Rhys, please, don’t make me love you.”

“Why not?” He tightened his embrace and snatched a quick kiss. “Do you want to sleep in my arms? To kiss me whenever you want to? To share in my joys, hopes, sorrows, and to have me share your burdens? If you can answer that with honesty, Lona, then you’re ready for love.”

When he rolled off her and the bed, he took her with him. He gripped her ass, massaging each backside cheek with his large hands. Shards of need were swift to strike, and she trembled under his touch.

He straightened as if he heard something but didn’t retreat. “I have every intention of pursuing your kisses, the feel of your ass in my hands, the paradise between your thighs.” He stole another too-short kiss. “Let me know when you’re ready to love me.”

He released her a second before a knock sounded on her front door. She gritted her teeth, torn between relief and irritation at the intrusion. Let him know when she could love him? It was sweet of him to wait, but it added pressure to her chaotic thoughts and emotions.

“Why are you knocking? It’s your house.” Amos’s voice sliced through the sensual tension thrumming between Rhys and Ilona.

Gran huffed. “It’s not. It’s Ilona’s now. Besides, there’s a car parked here. She might be…busy.”

“What?” Amos’s footsteps stomped along the passage, coming closer. “If any of these randy bucks has seduced my granddaughter, there will be hell to pay.”

“Should I hide?” Rhys’s teasing smile snatched her breath, and she blinked at him, a little dazed by him. “Ilona?” He groaned and captured her mouth with his, tugging on her heart, her soul with a flick of his tongue. No wonder desire was so addictive. “Woman, you were made for kissing.”

She released a shuddering sigh. “You won’t fit in the closet.” After a quick trail of her fingers along his ribbed torso, she hurried to the bedroom door to swing it open. “I can fuck who I want. I owe you no explanations, Amos.”

“Fuck me…please.” Rhys’s plea drew her focus. He adjusted his jeans around an impressive erection.

Despite the rush of arousal flooding her system, she scolded him, “Quit it. You’ve known me three days.”

“Never had a one-night stand?”

She gasped, gripping the door until the wood bit into her palm. “You want one?”

He dragged his heated gaze down her body, thrumming need through hers. “No, I want many.”

Right answer. Forcing her gaze away, she bolted into the passage and whacked into Amos. Tumbling back, she bounced off Rhys’s chest. He caught her with his arm around her waist, pinning her against him.

“Who the fuck are y—? Rhys?” Amos grinned, thrusting out his hand in greeting. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?” He frowned, slicing glances between Ilona and the man holding her in a far-too-intimate embrace.

“Needed a break.” Rhys kissed the crown of her head. “But now I’m babysitting a sick doctor.”

“Sick?” Amos’s posture changed as he scanned her for symptoms. “Reddish nose, flushed cheeks, hoarse voice…a cold?”

“Rhys plied me with soup and kept me company.” She tapped his arm, asking him to release her. Once he did, she slipped around Amos to the lone woman hovering by the front door. “Gran?”

“I’m so sorry, Ilona. I shouldn’t have sent you here. I should have come myself.” Tears streamed down Gran’s cheeks, and she wiped them away with trembling fingers. “I was a coward then and one now.” She tugged Ilona into a crushing hug. “You could’ve died from Edison’s claws or when you rescued the scientists.”

Ilona stepped back from the hug and dismissed the danger with a flick of her hand. “I could’ve died from Harriet overfeeding me. My jeans are a little tight.” They weren’t, but shards of illogical guilt forced her to downplay the last few days.

“I like your curves,” Rhys whispered when he kissed her shoulder on the way to the kitchen.

Ilona twisted to glance at Amos. “I can go home, right? With you here, Coedwig doesn’t need me anymore.”

“Stay, please. Just a few days.” Gran pouted in that way that always made Mom laugh…and cave.

“You’re leaving?” Rhys hovered in the dining room, holding a bag of ground coffee. “I wanted to ask Monique about the Devereaux line.”

Leaving him settled like lead in the pit of her stomach. Between the remnants of sinusitis and unfulfilled sexual tension, she wasn’t able to sift through her emotions without bias. He was a sexy-as-hell charmer, determined to woo her, but that didn’t mean she had to drop everything and stay with him. She had tasks waiting for her, like sorting through her parents’ home and maybe putting it on the market.

“The Devereaux line?” Gran frowned, sliding into the dining room chair to watch Rhys make coffee. Amos busied himself at the stove, starting on breakfast.

“Yes, I recently made the acquaintance of Callista and Valerie Devereaux. Their father was a police officer who died in the line of duty. Callie says he was an orphan.” Rhys lined mugs on the counter, gathered the sugar and cream, and carried them to the table.

“Why the interest?”

He settled his gaze on Ilona, his focus intense. “My bear reacted to Callie, but since she’s a vamp’s mate, my connection to her made no sense.”

“You think it’s a blood thing?” Amos asked from the kitchen, raising his voice above the sizzling bacon.

Ice drenched Ilona’s face, and that lead in her stomach softened and rose in a wave of nausea. “You want me because I might have the same genes as her?”

“No, yes, let me explain.” Rhys shortened the distance between them, but she jerked back, shaking her head as tears stung her eyes.

“I’m the substitute?” She wrapped her arms around her waist, coiling away from the sweetness of his duplicitous affection.

Not waiting for his response, she sprinted along the passage to her room and yanked out her bag, dropping it onto her bed. She grabbed her things and threw them in, uncaring in what condition they would arrive in Fenneg.

“Lona.” Rhys filled the door with his bulky frame.

Not looking at him, she refused to acknowledge the volatile emotions leaping and dancing in her chest. She had known she could fall for him, had sensed he would break her heart, but no, she had succumbed to his charm and let him kiss her. At least, she hadn’t spread her legs for him. Heat burned her face from her cheeks to the tips of her ears at how close she had come to doing that.

“Don’t Lona me. Offering me your lab and your body when you only wanted me because of her? That’s low, Rhys.” She darted into the bathroom and grabbed her toiletries, zipping them into the waterproof bag before tossing them into her luggage.

“Um, Ilona, Rhys, there’s a…man here to see you,” Gran called down the passage.

Rhys spun at the news and sniffed the air. “If you want to know if vamp saliva can heal, then come.” He stormed off, sending more illogical guilt through her like she was to blame for his silly fantasy.

Trailing him, she peered around his bulk blocking the passage. In a casual stance, a tall man with ebony hair and emerald eyes hovered by the door. He was breathtaking, like something out of a men’s magazine in his tailored gray slacks and a crisp white button-up shirt. His looming broad shoulders and the seductive smile teasing his lips oozed power. A web of scars marred his throat, but they added to the mystery of him.

“Dimi.” Rhys bounded forward to hug him. “When I asked for a pal’tsy, I didn’t mean you.”

“Asking me to send one of my men to lick someone isn’t intriguing? It outright dared me to come.” He scanned the lounge and dining room before settling on Ilona. “Prekrasnyy.”

His rasping voice sent shivers down her spine, stirring up the sexual tension she had moments ago turned her back on. When he strode between Gran and Amos and slipped around Rhys, Ilona considered fleeing. Fascinated by the allure of his eyes, she rooted her feet to the floorboards.

He captured her chin to raise her face for his perusal. “Mm, the scar is fresh. Be still, my lovely.”

Then he licked her, running his tongue from her eye to her jawline. His tongue was hot, wet, and his cologne smelled of something wild and free with a hint of cinnamon. Delicious, coiling, heated tendrils of anticipation sparked every neuron. She was standing there letting this stranger lick her. As she drowned in his eyes, she had no intention of stepping back.

Her life had become a series of bizarre and heartbreaking events. She giggled as hysteria added to the churning emotions she couldn’t and didn’t know how to deal with.

“Lona,” Rhys gestured to the stranger, “this is Dimitri Vasiliev, a vampire.”

So, this was what a vampire looked like? She hadn’t expected this level of potency. His air of arrogance announced to all he took what he wanted, did as he pleased, and had the talents and authority to back it up.

“You taste incredible.” Dimitri paused and inhaled, expanding his chest. “There is power in her blood, Rhys. I sense it.” He jerked back.

His eyes widened as if something dawned on him. Tilting her head farther back, he crowded her with his body. He slid his fingers from her elbow to her wrist and raised it to kiss the underside.

His lips warmed where they touched. “May I?”

She frowned, struggling to understand him through her hazy thoughts.

“No,” Rhys growled then grumbled, pressing against Dimitri’s back.

The vampire didn’t move, standing firm against Rhys’s bulk. “May I, Ilona?”

She settled her gaze on Rhys’s face twisted in agony…and fear? “What does he want to do, Rhys?”

“To taste your blood.” Everything about his stance implied she was his and his alone.

Part of her reveled in the emotions crossing his face. That was twice now he’d revealed a little of what he felt for her hidden beneath his handsome exterior. “What will that accomplish, Dimitri?”

His chuckle settled on her senses like melted butterscotch. “I am ancient, little one, and have encountered many curious creatures. History is in the blood. It does not lie. Relax, I only want to taste, not to feast.”

History was in the blood, as in the truth was in DNA. “Have you tasted Callie?” She stared at Rhys, at the pulse ticking at his jaw, at his clenched lips, at his dark blue eyes filled with pain.

Dimitri laughed. “That is an intriguing question. No, I haven’t.”

She raised her wrist with a nod. If his saliva healed her, she had more than shifter blood to research.

He gathered her wrist to his mouth. Scraping his fangs across her skin sent shivers through her, and an insane sensuality claimed her. Her senses exploded, and against her will, she arched her back, offering him her body. Keeping her gaze on Rhys, she hoped she conveyed the offer would have been for him.

Fire burst outward as Dimitri’s fangs pierced her skin. In an instant, the sharp pain altered to that of lust, burning need, and anticipation. She moaned. Her knees weakened, and she threw out her hand to splay across the passage’s wall. She didn’t break eye contact with Rhys, witnessing the shudder running through his body and the harshness of desire darkening his face. On a smothered groan, he parted his mouth as if he couldn’t breathe.

The second after Demi bit her, he flicked his tongue across the puncture wounds. “There is shifter in your blood and something older.” He ran his thumb across her wrist, wiping away the smears of blood before sucking on his thumb.

Rhys shoved the distracted vampire aside and yanked Ilona into his arms. She whimpered when the heat of his body engulfed her, his scent drenched her lungs, and his erection pressed into the juncture of her thighs. She could fuck him now and to hell with the consequences.

But he didn’t take advantage of this. Frustration built alongside gratitude, so she clung to him, suffering through each second as lust consumed her. She hated and loved him for his honor.

“I have tasted this power before.” Dimitri sank into the closet couch, staring at nothing as he licked his lips. “Tell me about yourself.” He directed his question at Gran. “The bacon is burning, Amos.”

Amos yelped and disappeared into the kitchen.

Dimitri patted the couch beside him in a silent request for Gran to join him. Preparing to protect her grandmother if need be, Ilona lurched forward.

“She’s safe,” Rhys whispered before he sucked on her earlobe.

A frisson of need shot to her core, and she gathered her splintered resolve and thrust him aside. She was packing and heading for Fenneg, a city she thought she would never want to leave. Now it was a pseudo-home. With her parents gone and Gran here, what did Fenneg offer but an escape?

Rhys stilled. “You’re still leaving?”

“How did Dimitri’s arrival change your motives, Rhys? You need to come to terms with your feelings for Callie.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Maybe you should date women who don’t look similar…” Shaking her head, she disappeared into the bathroom to don a pair of jeans, a bra, and a shirt. He leaned against the doorframe when she opened the door.

“I didn’t stand a chance with her. Gabe got to her first. As a strong woman, she would make a wonderful mate for any alpha.” He released a jagged breath. “I came north to find a mate, not caring what she looked like. In our culture, blood doesn’t lie, Lona. When we meet the one, it triggers a response in our inner beasts. I’ve had that response twice. With Callie and with…you. Finding a Devereaux in this town was a surprise.”

“I have bad news for you. My name is Ilona Strickland.” She hefted her bag and dumped it in the lounge, returning to the room to grab socks and boots.

“Blood doesn’t lie. As a doctor, you know this to be true.”

Dropping onto the couch, she laced her boots, choosing to focus on the task than to meet Rhys’s pleading gaze. He was delusional if he thought a few days was long enough to get to know someone. He was a supreme idiot if he thought humans would agree to their shifter ideas of courting.

And she was the ultimate fool for taking his interest seriously.

After kissing Gran on the cheek and giving Amos an awkward hug, Ilona stomped out of the house, banging the pale blue door behind her. It opened a second later.

“Lona, please…” Rhys hovered in the doorway with Amos frowning over his shoulder.

“Goodbye, Rhys.”

As she drove off, his sad face in the rearview mirror tempted her to turn around. She remained firm against whatever these emotions he invoked. They had no basis, no substance. Everything he had said and done had been lies.

Something reached through her innards and shoved her intestines, stomach, pancreas aside to squeeze her heart. She drove from Coedwig as she had arrived, in tears.