On the Edge (The Edge #1)(53)
Author: Ilona Andrews

She opened her mouth and clamped it shut. "You’ll get your money," she managed finally.

"Until then, I’ll remain here. Like it or not, I’ll protect you, and I’ll use any excuse to do it. More, you’re bound by our oath. We both swore to go through the three challenges, and I expect you to issue a second one."

"I’m through playing," she said.

"I’m not. The world doesn’t revolve around your whims."

"Leave!" she demanded.

"Hell no. I would be a fool to walk away. You’re one of a kind, Rose. I want you, and I’ll fight to have you."

"Well, I don’t want you."

"Be that as it may, you have to continue with the challenges. If you don’t, there will be a magic flashback, and neither of us knows what form it will take. You and I could both die, and where would that leave your brothers?"

Once again she was backed into a corner. "I hate you," she said.

He offered her a pleasant smile. "I’ll take that over indifference. Although I do find you much more attractive when you don’t scream and throw a tantrum like a child."

"If I don’t scream, I’ll fry you."

He jumped off the porch and loomed before her. "Do it. You want to take it to the next step, then let’s go. But you won’t like it. I’m not one of your local boys. I know how to defend myself."

Magic shimmered around her. His power flared around him. She clenched her teeth.

The screen door banged, and Jack’s voice recited, "Grandma said to tell you to please fight quieter. You’ll wake Georgie."

Rose closed her eyes and forced herself to exhale slowly. She heard Declan releasing his breath and felt the pressure of his magic ease.

"You’ll have your challenge as soon as Georgie wakes up," she said calmly when she could speak.

"I look forward to it, my Lady Camarine," he said.

She marched past him into the house and very carefully closed the door.

Chapter 18

GEORGIE woke up the next morning around ten. Rose had checked on him three times by then, and when she finally saw his blue eyes looking back at her, her knees went weak and she had to lean against the door frame.

"Well, there you are," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," he said.

She came closer, sat on his bed, and touched her lips to his forehead. He felt dry and warm. No trace of a fever. "Declan told me you called him."

"He was closer," Georgie murmured. "I couldn’t find you. You were too far."

Guilt clutched at her. "I’m sorry."

"What happened?" he asked.

She told him.

"I tried to tell you about the wolf and Casshorn," he said. "But you had to hurry to work, and then I forgot."

"I’m sorry," she said again. "The next time you have something important to tell me, I’ll listen, no matter what. I tell you what – I’ll go and get us some tea and funnel cake, and you can tell me all about it."

"There is funnel cake?" Georgie’s eyes lit up.

"I made some especially for you. You’re the hero. Heroes always get funnel cake."

She came back, and he told her the whole story between bites of funnel cake and sips of raspberry tea. The more he talked, the clearer the picture became in her head.

"I see," she said finally. She saw quite well now. Declan following her into the Broken. His stubborn insistence on staying in her house. She was still angry at him. Very, very angry. But certain aspects of his behavior finally made sense.

She regretted her loss of temper. A lot had happened in the last few days: Declan’s presence, the hounds, losing her job, the attack on Georgie. Any event by itself was enough to upset her, but together they turned her into an emotional pressure cooker. All of it had to come out somehow. She just wished it hadn’t come out quite the way it did, in front of Declan, who no doubt thought she was throwing a tantrum. It’s hard to convince someone to listen to you and leave your house when you’re raving too loud to be taken seriously.

"So what happens now?" Georgie asked.

"Now I need your help for my second challenge to Declan." She hesitated. "Do you think you’re strong enough to walk?"

Georgie nodded.

"I’m sorry to ask this of you, but I need you to come to the porch."

"I need the bathroom first," he said.

"Do you need help getting there?"

Georgie gave her a long look. She sighed and left him to it. When she finally got married, if she ever got married, she hoped her first child would be a cute little girl. A cute, sweet, harmless little girl.

ELEONORE stepped into the kitchen, mentally steeling herself. She had only a few minutes before Rose would return from Georgie’s room.

Declan rose at her approach with a polite shallow bow and a narrow smile. "Bonjour, Madame."

"Bonjour, Monsieur." She sat into a chair and continued in French. "I would like to speak about my granddaughter."

His face turned cold. The smile remained, but it gained that polite, icy tint the bluebloods adopted when they wanted to strangle the conversation with courtesy.

"I want there to be no misunderstandings," she continued. "This isn’t an attempt on my part to broker some sort of tryst between the two of you. On the contrary."

His eyebrows crept up a fraction of an inch. He really was a blindingly handsome boy. "Do you find me unworthy of your granddaughter, Madame?"

Inwardly ElEonore groaned. She was out of practice. "I have no doubt as to your pedigree. I merely wish you to understand the situation clearly. If you’re willing to listen, of course."

"I’m all ears, Madame," he assured her.

ElEonore took a deep breath. "My husband abandoned me a number of times during our marriage. I say this not to gain some sympathy for myself. It’s simply a fact. He loved me passionately, but he loved the sea more. Because I suffered without him, I did my best to raise my son with a sense of responsibility for his family. Unfortunately, I failed miserably. Just like his father, John abandoned his wife and children frequently. Growing up, Rose had learned that ‘father’ is a temporary presence in one’s life."

She fell silent. Finding the words proved harder than she realized. "Pardon. This is difficult for me. Rose’s mother was traumatized by the untimely death of her parents, and in her final years she sought to stave off her mortality by any means necessary, usually by finding solace in the arms of any man who would have her. Eventually even that remedy failed and she died. Rose was an adolescent and the boys were mere babies. Thus, my grandchildren were abandoned both by their mother and by their father."