Chapter Twenty-Seven
R o recalled the bombing of Ash Valley more than how pretty had it been before.
They’d rebuilt almost everything, and the shopping plaza looked as if it hadn’t been damaged much. She spun in a slow circle, marveling at the array of clothes—bright colors, an amazing variety of fabrics and style choices. There was so much to explore that she didn’t even know where to look first.
“See anything you like?” Slay asked.
“Lots of things. Where does it all come from?”
Slay seemed to know what she was worried about. “None of it’s from Golgerra.”
Rowena smiled. “I’m so glad. But I don’t want to—”
“Don’t worry about spending my money,” he cut in.
For Ro, it was like a holiday, trying on clothes while Slay sprawled in a chair near the fitting rooms, eyeing her up and down with lazy, heated appreciation.
Honestly, the whole endeavor felt like foreplay, and she ended up with two bags of new clothes along with a collapsible pack to carry them in.
It might not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but she’d never worn anything that she picked out before, never considered her favorite colors either.
“I like blue,” she said, pleating the fabric of the floaty dress she’d chosen to wear out of the store. It had a silvery pattern on the cloth, traceries of ivy or flower petals barely visible unless it caught the light and draped her body soft as a caress. She beamed as she twirled.
“You look fantastic,” Slay said with an appreciative gleam in his golden eyes.
“Thank you. I love it.”
“No need to thank me. This is the most fun I’ve had since before the war. Are we done?” He gestured toward the courtyard. “I’m curious to see what’s up at my place after all this time.”
Ro loved how Slay always took her hand; it seemed like instinct to him at this point. She squeezed his fingers and swung her arm as they stepped out of the shopping plaza, so different from the marketplaces in Golgerra. Here there were separate stores, everything shiny and glass instead of stone.
“I heard you were back.”
Ro surveyed the woman who had spoken, short and curvy with dark auburn hair and a lot of freckles.
She seemed warm and friendly, but on second glance, there was definite tension in the way she held herself.
In the undercity, Ro had learned to read the guards, determine their moods with one glimpse; it was a survival skill down there, but it often proved useful elsewhere.
This woman’s expression—compressed mouth, a pinched line between her brows—suggested that she didn’t know how Slay would greet her.
“There’s no need for a news service,” he said with a half-smile. “Word of mouth works so damn fast.”
“Would’ve been even quicker if Joss wasn’t at Burnt Amber. Did you know? She’s mated to Callum McCrae now, if you can imagine.”
Slay stared, apparently rendered speechless for a few seconds. “Isn’t he a monk?”
“Used to be. Joss wants what she wants, you know how she is.” The woman shrugged, seeming equal measures amused and exasperated by the person they were discussing.
He let out of a soft chuckle and some of the tension dispersed, at least from Ro’s perspective. “Hell yeah I do. There’s no stopping her.”
“I’m glad you’re safe,” the woman said quietly. “We missed you.”
“Yeah?” Slay didn’t sound sure of that.
“Would it be awkward if we hugged?” she asked.
After a brief hesitation, he answered, “It would be weirder if we didn’t.”
Ro had an odd feeling as Slay wrapped his arms around this woman.
Suddenly she remembered where she’d seen this lady.
She had presided over various events with Dominic Asher, and if she was Dominic’s mate, that meant she was the person who’d broken Slay’s heart.
Fortunately for Rowena’s peace of mind, Slay didn’t linger over the embrace.
When he stepped back, he pulled Rowena forward, settling the sting in her heart. “This is Rowena. You might’ve met her during the conclave. She was part of Alastor’s honor guard.”
“You’re on first name terms with the Golgoth prince now?” the woman asked.
“Alastor doesn’t use his title anymore,” Rowena said.
“This is Pru Bristow. Or is it Asher now?” Slay didn’t sound heartbroken, merely curious, but this whole encounter made Ro feel twitchy, like maybe she should lick him to establish that he was hers now.
He is, right?
“I did a hyphen. Nice to meet you,” Pru said.
Suddenly, Ro flashed on a moment of epiphany and she could’ve hugged Pru in gratitude. Words bubbled in her throat, dying to be spoken, but Slay responded first. “Evidently I should’ve introduced her as Pru Bristow-Asher.” In a softer tone he added, “My first love.”
I’ll be his last.
Rowena offered her hand and shook Pru’s with real appreciation. “Thank you for loving him. And…thank you for leaving him.”
The other woman blinked. Probably this wasn’t good etiquette, but she hadn’t learned manners in the undercity. Rather, she’d learned to survive at all costs.
“Excuse me?” Pru said.
“I mean it. If you hadn’t, there wouldn’t be any space for me now. So thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
“No…problem?” Pru didn’t seem sure what her response ought to be here.
Ro didn’t much care if she’d discomfited the other woman.
She wasn’t jealous of their shared past because she trusted that Slay’s future belonged to her.
Maybe one day, she and Pru could even be friends, though she wasn’t the best at making them.
Witness my awkward efforts with Sheyla Halek.
At any rate, Dom and Pru were important to Slay, so she’d try her best to gain their regard too.
“We’ll see you later.” Slay slung an arm around Ro’s shoulder and herded her past the shopping plaza, possibly hoping to avoid another welcome-back mob.
He guided her to a different part of the settlement, through a garden that was starting to bloom.
She’d stayed elsewhere during her brief sojourn in Ash Valley, not in the flats that residents called home.
The building had clearly been damaged during the explosions, but they’d repaired the steps and shored up the walls.
It was interesting to walk upstairs from the ground, certainly not what she was used to, and there were so many windows.
On the fourth floor, Slay went to the third door and keyed in a code.
Opening the door revealed a sunny space with pale walls, yellow and red accents, and a plaid sofa draped with handmade coverlets.
She could see several doors—private bedrooms and bathrooms perhaps—along with a kitchen directly adjacent to the living area.
“Not a speck of dust anywhere,” Slay said. “It’s been months. I should’ve known Pru would do this much for me. She cleaned Dom’s place for years while he was at the seer’s retreat.”
“Is it like you remembered?” Ro asked.
“More or less. There are a few things missing, probably broken in the bombing. Our family photos are a bit battered and they’re in different frames.”
She crossed the room to join him, perusing a montage of pictures that showed Slay and two parents, then when he was small, the father stopped appearing in the scenes, and as he grew, it showed only him standing beside his mother.
She had been a tall, striking woman with fierce eyes, and she always had her hand on Slay’s shoulder, like she was reminding him that he belonged to her.
Maybe Rowena was assuming too much, but it seemed like his mother would’ve caused problems for anyone he introduced to her.
Gently Ro touched the edge of the wooden frame. “I don’t even know how my father looked.” I hope he’s dead, along with the rest of Tycho’s dogs.
“I wish I didn’t,” Slay said sharply.
“Did he abandon you?”
“That’s exactly the right word. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”
“Do you ever wish he’d visit?” she asked.
“When I was small, I did. Listening to my mother cry herself to sleep every night, I’d pray for him to come back. Eventually I stopped hoping for anything at all where he was concerned.” Slay spoke the words like he was grinding glass with his molars.
Ro slipped her arms around him, hugging him from the back. “We’re both alone. If you want, I’ll be your family.”
Was that a proposal?
Slay would be so pissed if he missed his chance because Ro was braver and bolder. He turned slowly in her arms and drew her close.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? My feelings for you aren’t remotely fraternal.”
She flushed in adorable fashion and laughed, tucking her face against his chest. Then she said, “I didn’t mean it that way.
Just…we’ve both lost our mothers. Mine told me my father was one of the guards, but she never said which one.
And yours left when you were little. We have to stick together, right?
It only makes sense.” To punctuate the point, she kissed his chin.
Gods but he loved how easily she touched him now. He couldn’t get enough of her feel, her warmth, or her scent. “I’m on board with that.”
Desire struck fast and hard, digging in until he couldn’t breathe for the force of it. He wanted to sweep her off to his bed and keep her there for days. Instead, he kissed her tenderly and carried her bags into his bedroom, assuming she wouldn’t want to sleep in the room his mother had used.
Damn but it would be tough to see if her personal effects needed to be cleared out.
Things had been too much of a mess after the bombing, and then he got taken.
So there was no telling what might be in there.
Quickly he made room in his closet and emptied a drawer for Ro.
She had so little that she unpacked in two minutes.
Then Slay braced himself and took a deep breath before opening the door to his mother’s room.