Crimson Midnight (A New Adult Dark Urban Fantasy Series) (The Crimson Series Book 1) (21 page)

“Fucking is good, it’s fine, and
the lust thing is great with Roman, no strings attached.  That works for him
and it works for me because we can never actually be with each other, not
properly.”

“Why? Because you’re a vampire and
he’s a werewolf?”

“No, that in itself wouldn’t be an
issue. You see, the thing is that werewolves bond for life…always with another
werewolf.”  She stared at her, waiting for her to process what she had just
said, to grasp the implications, then continued. “So any relationship Roman has
with anyone else will end, will have to end, once he meets his mate.”

Rose froze, the heat of a few
moments ago seeping out of her fingertips, leaving her cold and numb.  This
explained why he flitted from girl to girl, why he did the open relationship
thing.  She felt her heart go out to him, he couldn’t fall in love. For him it
wasn’t permitted because somewhere out there his mate had already been chosen,
and until he met her he had to remain…unloved.  She sat down heavily next to
Thistle.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, he can
fall in love if he wants to, it just…well, once he meets his mate, that love he
felt for whomever he felt it for will pale in comparison to the pull of his
mate.  Wolves bond with their mates. They share an emotional and mental
connection that no one else outside the bond could compete with.  It’s why
werewolves try to avoid serious relationships if possible. Roman is one of the
good guys.”

“What if he never meets her, his
mate?” she asked quietly.

“Oh, he will. Pack member always
do, and it’s just the way the cosmos works.  She’s out there somewhere.”
Thistle turned on the bed to face Rose. “I saw the way he looked at you and the
way you looked at him.  That’s not lust that’s…”

Rose was gripped by panic. “It was
just a kiss!” she said firmly. “Just a kiss, nothing more…it doesn’t mean
anything.”
Then why does it hurt so much? Why does it feel like all the
sunshine has been stolen?

“I just don’t want either of you to
get hurt.” Thistle took Rose’s hand gently in hers. “It’s up to you what you do
from here, but as your friend I had to tell you the facts.”

Rose nodded numbly.

“I better join the others.” Thistle
stood up, heading for the door. “I’ll tell them you’ll be down in a bit?”  She
turned to look at Rose, her brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m fine, hun,” Rose assured her.
“I’ll be down in a sec.”

Thistle looked sceptical but didn’t
push the issue. Instead, she quietly let herself out of the room leaving Rose
to her thoughts.

It didn’t matter, it was just a
kiss.  Then why did she feel like somebody had inflated a balloon inside her
chest?  She squeezed her eyes shut.  She liked Roman, she found him attractive,
they had connected on some level but that was all.  The kiss…the kiss had
been…amazing. But it was just a kiss.  She couldn’t go down that road. She
couldn’t invest in something that she knew would be ripped away from her at any
moment.  But she couldn’t rub away the image of his face– the torment and then
the awed joy after they had kissed. She couldn’t brush away the imprint of his
hot fingers as they had cupped her face. 

She buried her head in her hands. 

27.

REGISTRATION

“Registering today?” Roman asked,
as he sauntered into the kitchen and perched himself on the edge of the table.

“Yeah.”  Rose yawned into her
coffee mug.  Maxwell had called her the night before, insisting she call in
sick so he could take her to register.  She’d been suitably aghast. Call in
sick! She hadn’t called in sick once in her life and didn’t plan on starting
now. But he had, after five minutes, managed to persuade her how important it
was to submit herself into the system.

“Trust me,” he had said. “You do
not want to be labelled as a rogue.”

She’d reluctantly relented and had
called in sick, putting on what she hoped was a suitably croaky voice. 

She took another sip of her
steaming coffee and regarded Roman from beneath her lashes.  Even slightly
crumpled and mussed from sleep, he looked good enough to eat.  She quickly
crushed that train of thought.  There was no going there with Roman.  She had
made that clear to him on Monday night after her little chat with Thistle.  It
was now Wednesday and they had managed a whole day and night without
regressing. 

He caught her looking at him and
smiled slowly. “Having second thoughts?”

She jerked, nearly spilling her
coffee, and then quickly composed herself, putting on her firmest, most sincere
voice. “No.”

He nodded deliberately. “Just as
well I guess, because I don’t know if my willpower is strong enough for the
both of us.” He sighed and slowly pushed himself off the table, heading for the
kettle.

Well that was that.  Sure it had
been a tough call, her head over her loins, her mind over her heart, that kind
of thing. But ultimately it was all about the not getting burned part and there
was no way she was going to voluntarily get in line for heartache of the
century.  She took another calming sip, casting her mind back to Monday night.

After Thistle had informed her
about werewolf bonding she had sat in her room for a half hour thinking it all
through.  Finally, when she had fully processed it all, she had left her room
in search of Roman. 

There was only one course of action
in her mind and that was to confront Roman and come to a mutual agreement.  The
house had been quiet, everyone had left and Flo was already tucked up for the
night. She’d rapped lightly on Roman’s door but getting no response had decided
to search the house.  She’d found him in the den watching some late night
gangster movie and had felt a pang of longing when he had looked up at her, his
eyes alight with joy. 

“Werewolves mate for life, don’t
they.” She had said, challenging him to deny it, some part of her hoping that
he would. As it turned out he hadn’t.  He really was one of the good guys. He
could have spun her some get out of bonding clause and she might even have let
herself believe it.  Thistle was a vampire after all– she couldn’t possibly
know everything there was to know about werewolves.  But he hadn’t.  Instead,
he had sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a beat so long she thought he
might have fallen asleep. When he opened them that light she had seen was gone.
In its place was a deep darkness, the darkness of uncertainty and the knowledge
of fate all rolled into one.  He had invited her to sit and she had, and then
he had told her basically what Thistle had told her.  But aside from that, he
confessed his fear of being bonded to someone he could never truly love, or
never finding his mate, and being forced to exist without love in a waiting
game that never came into fruition. Or not being able to truly be himself with
a woman, of never being able to share his innermost thoughts for fear that it
would invite too close a relationship, leading to something more than he was
free to give.

“Why me?” she’d asked. “Why let
your guard down with me? You seemed to be doing so well.” She knew she
shouldn’t ask that question, really, really didn’t want to know the answer but
her mouth seemed to have a will all of its own.

“Sometimes the heart takes over,”
he had said. “And when it does it can be impossible to tame.” 

Suddenly they were sitting too
close, the air around them too close, their breath mingling enticingly, and
their hearts beating in sync. As if reading from a subconscious script, their
bodies moved toward each other, a subtle shift which brought their lips
together in the softest kiss, full of need and longing, a wish never to be
fulfilled.  It was a goodbye kiss of times not to be had, only imagined.

They had broken apart slowly and
Roman had gently caressed her face, his eyes full of sadness. 

They had said goodnight.

“You want another?” Roman asked,
yanking her out of her reverie.

“Huh?” She quickly hid her shock
and excitement, reorienting herself and realising he wasn’t offering to kiss
her again.

Roman held up the kettle looking
slightly bemused at her expression.

“No thanks.”

He turned his back on her, placing
the kettle back on its stand, then stood facing away from her, his hands on the
counter, his head hanging. She watched the play of muscle under his T-shirt as
he sighed deeply, and she tried to ignore the tightness in her chest.  She
realised then that he was finding this just as hard as she was– the acting
normal around each other, the silent agreement on a no touching pact, the
talking about the weather and coffee when all either of them wanted to do was
wrap themselves around each other and never let go.  She itched to run her
fingers across his broad back, to grasp his shoulder and turn him to face her
and bury her head in the hollow of his neck. 

“Stop it, Rose,” he said softly.

“What?” Her voice was a rasp.

“I can feel you…” His voice
deepened, husky and raspy at the same time. “I can feel you all around me.”

The air was suddenly buzzing with tension. 
Rose gripped the table edge, torn between tearing out of the room and rushing
toward him. This couldn’t last, surely? Surely it would get easier with time?

“Morning!” Flo entered the kitchen,
her gaze flitting from Rose to Roman, quickly assessing the situation.  “Rose,
luv, would you check on Erin for me, make sure he’s brushed his teeth?”

“Sure.” Rose exhaled, relieved to
have the decision made for her. Tearing out of the room it was, then.

Flo waited until she was sure Rose
was out of earshot.  “You alright, luv?” she asked tentatively. She wasn’t sure
what to make of the situation.  Until Harold’s crude outburst on Monday night,
she had been completely oblivious to Roman’s feelings toward Rose.  She should
have really anticipated something. After all, Rose was a beautiful young woman.
Her Roman had always been the playboy– so many girls, so little time. And then
he had Thistle didn’t he? She really hadn’t anticipated the threat that Rose
posed. She shook her head. What was the world coming to when the thought of
your son falling in love could be viewed as a threat?  She knew what he was,
how things worked and she had no choice but to accept it. But she was also a
mother and as a mother she wanted nothing more than for her son to be happy.
Right now she could feel his pain as certainly as if she had borne him
herself.  “Roman, luv?”

“I’m okay, mum, please just leave
it.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No…I just want things to go back
to how they were.” He turned slowly, flashing her a bright smile that didn’t
reach his eyes. 

In that moment she decided to play
along. If it helped him to pretend everything was all right then so be it.  He
must have, however, picked up on the fleeting spark of scepticism in her eyes
before she masked it because he threw back his head, exhaling heavily.  

“Rose and I…there’s nothing going
on, there can’t be, so you don’t need to worry that we might…abuse your home.”

Flo’s mouth fell open in surprise.
She shook her head vehemently. “Don’t be silly, luv. I’m not worried about
that. I’m worried about
you
.”

He moved toward her gently,
grasping her shoulders. “Seriously, Rose and I…we just need to spend some
normal time together doing normal things. And it’ll soon be forgotten, just a
silly crush.” He chuckled, a sound that sounded false even to his own ears.

“Okay, luv, okay.” Flo patted his
cheek. She really hoped that he was right.

By the time Rose had urged Erin to get ready for school, Roman had already left for work. She wasn’t sure whether she
was relieved or disappointed that he hadn’t said goodbye.  She’d just finished
dressing warmly in a form-fitting crimson turtleneck and black skinny jeans.
Autumn was definitely here. And from the way the rapidly browning leaves were
blowing around on the trees outside, she knew it would be a blustery day.  Her
mobile phone began to vibrate on her bedside table.

It was her dad. She flipped open
the phone. “Hello, dad. How are you?”

“Rose, it’s good to hear your
voice.” 

Rose felt a pang of guilt. She’d
only made two calls home since she’d arrived in London almost five weeks ago. 
She imagined she could hear the chastisement in her father’s tone. “I’m sorry I
haven’t called. I’ve been-”

“Busy, I know, don’t worry. I
thought I’d leave you a voicemail, thought you might be at work.”

Shit!  “Um, I’ve got a couple of
hours off this morning. I was just about to call you actually.” She hated lying
but what could she do?  She could hardly tell her dad the truth, that she
hadn’t called because she had been distracted by the revelation that she was a
supernatural being and was in the subsequent adjustment faze.  “Dad, I meant to
ask you, um, do you know much about our family tree?”

There was a slight pause before her
father answered.
“No, not really. I was never interested in that kind of
stuff.  Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing, I was chatting to
Faye and we got talking about relatives and ancestors and she can trace her
family back five generations. It got me thinking about mine.” She forced a chuckle,
which she hoped sounded genuine. “It got me wondering if we had any colourful
relatives in our past.”

“Colourful?”

“You know eccentric…weird?” She
held her breath, waiting for his response.

He cleared his throat.
“Well,
Rose, if we have I can’t recall, but you never know.”
She could hear the
smile in his voice. 
“You are a strange thing.”
He said fondly.

“I guess I am.  I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, hun. And I’ll
see you soon?”
He sounded hopeful.

“Defo, I’ll come down as soon as I
can get a Saturday off.”

“You do that.”

She made a kissing sound down the
phone.

“Okay, Rose. Bye now.”
He
hung up

“Rose! Maxwell is here!” Flo
shouted up from the bottom of the stairs.

She pulled on her ankle boots and
bounded down the stairs, stopping short in the hallway at the sight of her
escort for the day.  He was standing facing the stairs. His hair was tightly
braided away from his face, allowing his caramel skin and chocolate brown eyes
to draw full attention.  Like her, he had also dressed for the windy day in
jeans, a turtleneck and a light leather jacket.  He looked like he had just
stepped out of a fashion magazine.

“You’re the hot barman,” she
blurted, straight from brain to mouth. Sometimes she cursed her lack of a
filter.

Maxwell grinned. “I like that,
might put that on my CV.”

Rose felt instantly at ease and
found herself returning the grin. “What, next to part- time warlock?”

He chuckled, extending his hand.
“As of yet we haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Maxwell Jones.” 

Rose took the proffered hand. “Rose
Carmichael.”

He cocked his head, studying her
for a moment as if deciding whether to tell her something or not.

“What?”

“Manga Chick.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what I nicknamed you when I
first saw you at The Whisper.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “How
original.”

“Oh, and I suppose ‘hot barman’ is
the height of originality?”

“Touché.”

Maxwell swept his arm out toward
the door. “Shall we go?”

Rose was suddenly apprehensive. 
She had been distracted by Roman this morning, then by Erin and finally, by her
father. She hadn’t really had time to think about what she was going to be
doing today. Now it hit her anew.  By registering she was truly committing
herself to a new life, there would be no going back.

Maxwell, seeming to sense her hesitation,
smiled reassuringly. “Trust me. You’re doing the right thing.”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“This is where you register?” Rose
stood staring at the small antique shop in Kentish Town with an incredulous
expression on her face.

Maxwell looked smug. “What did you
expect? Bright green neon arrows pointing down toward it? It’s completely under
the radar, and no one would guess it was a registration point.”

“So how the hell do people, I mean,
supernatural people, find it.”  She was scanning the building, trying to find a
sign that made it different from the average antique shop, some subtle thing
that said “yes, this is the registration building.’ 

Maxwell went to reply but Rose held
up a hand to silence him. “Don’t tell me, you have a supernatural directory or
something.”

Maxwell’s eyes twinkled. “Most of
what we do travels word of mouth throughout the community.  There’s a
registration post in every major town and city. Once people register, that
information goes into a large database that can be accessed by a select few. 
Look up there.” He pointed to the right hand corner of the sign that read ‘Shoe
Box’, the name of the shop. 

Rose studied the small area,
stepping closer to get a better look. And then she saw it, a small upside down
question mark.  “I see it!”