Stone Romance (Stone Passion #2) (38 page)

“Melanie.” His voice was shredded with pain as he looked at her holding onto his brother, comforting his brother. It had been a mistake to give up his nights for
Katrina,
it had been an even bigger one when she accepted his gift, but this…. Swallowing against the anguish that was devouring his soul, he felt the ice begin to encase his heart. Never again would he make a fool of himself over a woman. Shards of ice sliced through his veins until his blood was frozen and he was numb.

“Stop!”
Jenna cried out once more, jerking her arm out of the woman’s cruel grip.

The images and feelings burned out just as quickly as they had come in and Jenna slumped to the ground, drained from that one memory. She glanced up at the woman who stood over her wearing her burden of omniscience as a mantle she must bear. “How do you stand it?”

“It is my.…” She paused for a dramatic moment, her lips curling upwards in a wry, distracted smile.
“Fate.
Now, it is time for you to go.”

“Yes,” Jenna whispered, her heart shattering in her chest, mourning everything she was giving up. “Will you let me remember?”

“Is that what you wish?” the woman asked with genuine sympathy.

Jenna took one last look at the path she didn’t choose, tears slipping down her cheeks as she ran her fingers over the Tapestry. Her chest tightened and she wanted to take it back; she couldn’t give it up….

“Yes.”

Jenna gasped as she woke violently, her back arching off the soft bed. Every muscle in her body tightened painfully, clench
ing
until she felt as if she was going to snap. Tendons and bone grated beneath her skin, blood scraped through her veins; pain pierced her body as if it were waking from a long, turbulent slumber. Strong hands pushed against on her shoulders, holding her down as memories of a life that was no longer hers cascaded over her and she let out a low scream of misery.

“Jenna,” a low, rough voice whispered urgently.  “Sweetheart, open your eyes. You’re back now; it was just a dream.”

She somehow managed to make her arms obey her and she wrapped her arms around him, tears spilling over her cheeks and soaking his shirt. Sobbing, she choked, “It wasn’t a dream. I was there; I could have chosen a different path.”

“Jenna,” he breathed, brushing his fingers through her hair, pushing the short black strands from her forehead and cupping her face in his hands, “Look at me.”

Slowly, she opened her eyes and found herself drowning in a sea of chocolate. She blinked and Rhys came into focus, concern and relief plainly etched on his handsome face. Clinging to his shirt, she cried harder, “It wasn’t just me, Rhys; I had to choose this life. I had to.”

His expression became shuttered as he looked down at her and swallowed, the tendons of his neck tightening. Her fingers convulsed as she met his tormented eyes, “Don’t you see? I met you in that other life but I was married. I felt the rush of desire and I would have fought the inevitable but in the end I would have turned my back on everything I believe to be true, I would have torn my family apart to be with you, the way Melanie did….”

His large body shuddered as he
sighed
a breath of relief and rested his forehead against her, “Jenna.”

“Why am I so stiff?” she asked, trying to stretch her aching muscles and wincing when they groaned in protest. His fingers pressed into the clenched muscles of her back and she nearly passed out from the pain as every cell in her body screamed in agony. With gasping breaths, she begged, “Please stop.”

“Oh, my; I’ve only had one other return before,” an exquisitely feminine voice murmured. Awkwardly, Jenna turned her head and could only stare at the flawless, dark-haired beauty
who
stood in a gown that enhanced rather than hid her perfect hourglass figure. The femme fatale glided into the room carrying a large porcelain bowl, which she laid on the bedside table. Looking at her with sympathy, the woman shook her head and offered a commiserating smile, “And never after so long; you must be terribly stiff.”

That was an understatement. She felt as if rigor mortis had set in while she was sleeping and all of her fluids were sluggishly trying to make their ways through her once dead body.
The stunning woman
smiled a little, “While you were sleeping your normal bodily functions were put in stasis. You’ll have a few hours before everything hits with a vengeance but by that time your muscles should have some mobility
and you’ll be able to stagger to the bathroom
.”

With an arm around her shoulders, Rhys slid onto the bed next to her to support her, his body a solid wall of heat that she took comfort in. “Jenna; this is my mother, Medusa.”

Jenna’s jaw fell in disbelief; this exquisite creature was Medusa? The girl couldn’t possibly be older than eighteen, if she was that, and she was the most
strikingly beautiful
woman Jenna had ever seen. And when Medusa
looked at Rhys and smiled with motherly affection, Jenna’s jaw dropped even further. “My poor boy has been frantic with worry, dear; I doubt he’s slept at all these past three weeks.”

She whipped her head around to face Rhys – or rather, she tried to whip her head around. It was more of a snail’s pivot, the muscles refusing to relax. “I’ve been out of it for three weeks?”

“Closer to four,” he admitted, his eyes red-rimmed with fatigue. But he was smiling and it was a beautiful smile. Bending forward, he placed a light kiss on her nose and rested his forehead against hers. He radiated exhaustion and though she knew he didn’t need a lot of sleep he did require some. And if he had been awake for nearly four weeks.... His large body shuddered as he held her tighter, “I didn’t think you’d stay.”

The pain underlying his words gnawed at her already ravaged gut and if she could she would crumble to dust. Stiffly, she moved her arm enough to cup his cheek as tears glistened in her eyes, “I think I am meant to be with you, whichever path I choose. No; I know I’m meant to be with you. Even in the other life I felt the connection.”

“Jenna,” he rasped, his eyes sliding shut in tortured pleasure. His body slumped past her as he succumbed to a much needed rest. As Jenna stared at him in stunned amazement, a light snore came from his big body and she almost giggled. The action was so unexpected after the experiences she just had. Slowly, she ran her hand over his side, just needing to touch him, to make sure he was here, he was real.

“Here, Jenna dear,” Medusa said. Jenna had forgotten for a moment that she was
n’t
alone with Rhys. With a guilty start she smiled as Medusa handed her a glass of clear liquid. Jenna assumed it was water but being that she was waking up after
a nearly
four week… nap and it was Medusa handing her the glass
so she couldn’t be sure
. After everything she
had been through she
was
admittedly
wary. “This will help you since your muscles have started to atrophy but you’ll be fine. Now, drink up.”

“What is it?” Jenna asked, sluggishly raising the glass to her nose and sniffing the contents. She was embarrassed to see how her hand shook with the effort of holding the glass. Medusa’s delicate fingers wrapped around hers and held the glass in place. The most delicious scent wafted from Medusa’s skin, something intoxicating and otherworldly and Jenna inhaled deeply, breathing in the aroma. It was sensual and Jenna could imagine men falling at the beautiful woman’s feet just to breathe her in.

“It’s water,” Medusa said with a large smile, bring Jenna back to the present. After Jenna took a reluctant sip, Medusa added, “With a drop or two of my blood. No, don’t spit it out!” she ordered, holding a hand over Jenna’s mouth. Jenna tried to refuse the water but Medusa was even more determined than she was. Plus the gorgeous woman was much, much stronger and it had nothing to do with being a gargoyle or a Gorgon or whatever. At this point, Jenna was pretty sure a two year old would be stronger than her. After a brief battle, Jenna managed to choke down the entire glass of blood-infused water as Medusa wore a pleased expression.

Medusa sat down on the bed, elegantly arranging her lithe limbs and oblivious to her clothes, or rather, her lack of clothes. With that same motherly concern
she exhibited earlier
, she ran her fingers through Rhys’s auburn locks, “I’ve discussed the matter with Rhys and I will be sending several vials of my blood with you.”

“But, why?”

“Don’t you see?” she asked, her dark eyes laughing in sardonic amusement. “My blood is ambrosia, the food of the gods. That was the whole purpose of this quest, was it not?”

“Yes,” Jenna frowned, shaking her head no. “But it was to be for Vaughn.”

Medusa laughed, “It was never meant for Vaughn; it was always meant for you.”

Jenna stared at her, her mind depressingly blank, “For me?”

“Yes.” She smiled slightly as she lightly drew her fingers along Jenna’s jaw,
her chin,
pushing up and closing her gaping mouth. “My boy loves you and as long as you take only a drop of or two of my blood every couple of weeks
you’ll age at a much slower rate. You’ll also be incredibly healthy… you won’t catch even the common cold and any injury you receive will be quickly healed. But any more than a drop or two and you risk, well, death.”

Medusa was thoughtful for a moment, a slight frown puckering the smooth perfection of her forehead, “I guess you could take the whole vial at once and hope that you survive but that rarely happens; your sister was extremely lucky that she only died for a moment.”

Jenna sucked in a painful gasp, “That’s how she got Vaughn back?
By drinking your blood and dying?”

“It wasn’t just my blood,” she said defensively, though her dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “And I’m sure Omari knew what he was doing when he gave it to her; he has a sense for these things, you know.”

Jenna gaped at the woman, “Then, how do you know how much is safe?”

“I simply know.” She had the grace to look guilty as she averted her eyes and admitted, “Well, it’s not an exact science. When I spoke to
Omari
about it he see
med to agree that the amount I suggested
would be acceptable. It’s like taking a little bit of poison to develop a resistance to worse poisons.”

“That’s not comforting,” Jenna grumbled, slumping back against Rhys’s hard, sleeping body. She was still incredibly weak but, surprisingly, she felt slightly less like death thawed out.

Medusa gave an elegant yet expressive shrug, “It’s not but we do what we can. Now then, talk to me; it’s been ages since I’ve had another female to chat with and I’m simply dying to talk with another woman.”

Jenna blinked at her, abruptly seeing how absurdly lonely the woman was. It had to be torture to be bound to an island with a bunch of stone statues for company and a room that allowed for observation but no physical interaction.

Holy crap! She was talking with Medusa – the Medusa! There had been nothing in her life to prepare her for such an occasion; Medusa was a myth. She wasn’t supposed to be a dazzlingly beautiful woman who looked to be no older than eighteen, a mother of who knows how many gargoyles, the lover of Apollo. The woman looked at her with eager, nearly black eyes and Jenna was at a complete loss of words. Oh, she had tons she wanted to ask but she didn’t want to be rude, especially after sleeping for nearly a month and experiencing an alternate reality that she had given up.

Her eyes widened in alarm, “I have to call home.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Medusa said softly, resting a hand on her forearm as she sighed in disappointment. Jenna was growing used to the woman’s need to touch; she found comfort in it, actually. “Rhys called home several times letting them know that everything was fine. He kept tabs on Ferris, too. She had a blast in Florida, by the way; she got her picture taken with all of the princesses.” She huffed out a slight laugh. “He never told them about you, of course, because there was no point; had you chosen the other path none of them would know any better.”

Jenna felt the color drain from her face at the casually uttered reminder; did she make the right choice? Pressing her hand against her stomach, she swallowed against the bile in her throat. Memories of the other life jolted through her head, leaving behind a hollow ache that she couldn’t erase. Had she chosen that life…
.