CHAPTER NINETEEN

The steady click of Blue's heels followed us deeper into the shadows. They stirred the silence and muffled the whispers behind the closed doors.

She didn't hear them.

I watched her face to be sure, but she focused only on me, on my words. My stories.

My lies.

Lies about Lacroix House and the twisted, evil man who built it.

"That's sweet," she whispered when I told her about Hael Lacroix building a castle for his new bride.

I don't tell her of the graves he tore up. The coffins he raided or the bodies he burned. I don't tell her he went mad seeing their faces in his sleep, a curse that passed down to every Lacroix thereafter.

"What happened to her?" Blue asked.

"Died," I tell her.

Blue's eyes study the delicate curves of my great, great, great, great grandmother's face immortalized in oil and canvas. She watched us from eyes that always felt a little too real at night.

"She was so beautiful," Blue said.

"She was grandfather's whole world," I murmured. "He couldn't live with himself after what happened to her."

Blue sighed, small hand pressed to her chest. "How sad."

What I didn't tell her was that Delphine Lacroix died at the hands of her deranged husband. That he had chased her down and crushed her throat with his bare hands. After coming to his senses, Hael threw himself into the swamp, leaving their sleeping children without both parents.

I worked through to my great, great, great grandfather Jeffrey Lacroix, Hael and Delphine's eldest son. The only child that survived to take claim of the Lacroix fortune.

"What happened to them?" Blue asked, studying the family portrait of Jeffrey and his wife Vittoria and their son Ezra.

"Vittoria died. Jeffrey went on a few more years, but he was killed by his gun backfiring."

Blue gasped. "Oh, that's awful. How did she die?"

"She drowned in the lake." With a cinder block chained around her neck.

I didn't tell Blue.

"Oh, my goodness," she breathed.

"Ezra married Catalina. They had two sons. The youngest died during birth with Catalina."

Blue gasped, hands going to her mouth. "Oh no!"

I moved further along the wall. "Orson, my grandfather, married Elora and had my father and my Uncle Byron."

Blue's fingers wrapped around my arm, her eyes desperate looking up at me. "Please tell me they lived to old age."

My chuckle was void of all humor. "He thought she was cheating on him. He killed her in a fit of jealous rage. Then himself."

Blue's shoulders sagged in disappointment, and for the first time since deciding to walk her down the history of my family, I regretted it. I hadn't meant to upset her. I was trying to warn her why she needed to stay away from me. Why I needed to stay away from her.

It's too late to turn back now, I decided miserably.

"My father inherited the house. He and Uncle Byron were very close." I stopped at my parents' portrait with Blue still holding my arm. "Dad married my mom and had me."

"I'm so sorry, Thoran," she whispered. "I can't imagine how hard this was for you to talk about."

I didn't know what to tell her, except death was inevitable and it was never natural. The Lacroix men were terrible people. They hurt and murdered the women they were supposed to protect.

Just like I had.

Five times.

But I couldn't tell her about them. I couldn't stand it if she looked at me with fear in her eyes. Maybe that made me a coward and weak but losing her paralyzed me.

"Show me your favorite part of the house," Blue said, tugging on my arm and urging me away from the ghosts judging me through eyes that were so similar to mine.

I knew what she was doing.

She thought she was protecting me from the pain, but I had relived their stories a million times. I had stood before their haunting eyes and listened to their stories repeating back at me in my father's voice.

"It's your fate, Thoran. You can't escape it."

Four generations and five dead brides later, it was hard to argue my ultimate destiny.

But not her.

Not fucking her.

I didn't give a shit what the fucking house did to me, but I would burn it to the fucking ground if it hurt her.

"Thoran?"

I tore my gaze away from the faces of my parents and grandparents and faced the woman holding my hand.

"Sorry, love. I get lost in my thoughts sometimes."

She gave my fingers a squeeze that may as well have been my chest. "I want to see the kitchen."

I blinked at the request. "The kitchen?"

She nodded, expression hopeful. Desperate. "Let's get some of that tea from yesterday and you can show me your favorite book in the office. Okay? Please?"

Maybe it was the quiet desperation in her eyes begging me to go with her, but I let her guide me away from the shifting shadows and overlapping whispers. Her heels clapped against the marble for several feet while she chatted on about books she'd read and the ones she loved best. I listened, amused by her attempts.

When we rounded the final corner and hit the office doors, she stopped and faced me. Her big eyes studied my face, searching. Concerned.

"I'm fine, love," I promised her softly. "It's not the first time I've visited their portraits."

If my assurance was supposed to ease her mind, it didn't. If anything, she seemed even more anxious.

"How often?"

I shrugged. "I don't actually keep track, but they're on the way to the office so..."

Sadness crinkled deep grooves between her eyebrows. "That's awful. Having to pass all that tragedy every day, all day must be heartbreaking."

I hadn't actually thought about it. Their pictures had been there since the beginning. I couldn't imagine them anywhere else.

"It's a fact of life, sweetheart. It's full of tragedy."

Blue nibbled on her bottom lip but didn't seem to have anything to say to that. So, I raised her fingers to my lips and kissed the knuckles.

"Still want that tea?" I asked her. "Or do you want to see my favorite spot in the house?"

My attempts to distract her paid off when the lines and creases surrounding her mouth and the center of her brows relaxed and she gave me a smile that made my stomach trip.

"Both."

Her bold declaration brought a smile to my face. I clicked my tongue. "Both? You ask for too much."

Blue chuckled and I resisted the urge to kiss that bowed mouth by squeezing her fingers threaded through mine and leading her to the kitchen.

I took her the long way. It was easier to go back through the hallway of portraits, but I had already upset her enough with my past. Plus, there was a whole section past the office I wanted to show her.

"What's your favorite color?" I asked her as we walked. "You have to tell me that much," I teased when she peered up at me. "You can tell a lot about a person based on their favorite color."

Her eyebrows lifted in amusement. "Can you?"

"You can. If you know what to look for."

Her eyes narrowed over her smiling mouth. "Is that so?"

I nodded. "It's a scientific fact."

She hummed softly. "Okay, what's your favorite color?"

"Green. Obviously. The good shade like the color of the trees during a rainstorm."

A laugh sputtered out of her. "And what does that say about you?"

"I'm loyal and dependable, and a hell of a kisser."

Her cheeks darkened. "Is that so?"

"Scientific fact. So, what's yours?"

"Purple. No shade preference. All of them."

I hissed through my teeth. "A tough one. Regal and classy, soft, feminine, sweet," my voice lowered, "beautiful."

Blue blushed and dropped her gaze to our feet. "All that, huh?"

"Well, it's not complete. There are follow up questions like what's your favorite food?"

I kept the questions light. Little things that were seemingly useless. But Blue answered them around little fits of giggles that filled the corridors. The sound was the most addictive thing I'd ever heard. It made me want more the closer we came to the set of stairs and the ornate glass doors opening to the courtyard at the heart of the house.

Blue stilled at my side, her face a mask of wonder as I held the door open for her and let her through first.

The cool, night air swept into the square of space paved in smooth, wet stones and lined with clusters of bushes and trees overlooked by windows on all sides. The path cut down the middle to the twin set of doors on the other side.

"Oh, this is beautiful!" she murmured. "Is this your favorite place?"

I shook my head, reclaiming my hold on her hand and guiding her onto the path. "I wanted to show you the scenic route to the kitchen."

I had lied to her more in the span of an hour then I had since she fell into my life. But these were necessary lies. They were — mostly — to protect her.

Ignoring the clench in my gut, I guided her across the courtyard with the gold light from the corridors inside illuminating our way. Blue tilted her face back to study the swirling smear of gray crowding the sky overhead and a solitary raindrop burst across her cheek.

Her snort of laughter rippled across the confined space. I turned to face her as she raised a hand to brush the moisture away.

Without thinking it through, I leaned in and kissed the spot. The sweet taste of her trickled into my mouth. It was unclear who was more surprised by the gesture, but she didn't pull away.

At all.

Her eyes, light and dark in the swaying night seemed illuminous against the round contours of her features. Her mouth painted a deep, haunting crimson parted, and God, I wanted to taste it like I'd been dying to for what felt like forever.

"You look beautiful tonight. Don't know if I said it. My brain fried a little when you opened the door."

Blue smiled shyly. "Thank you."

I smoothed a finger against her cheek where my lips had lingered moments before. "Will you take another walk with me tomorrow after dinner?"

The curve of her mouth bowing into a brilliant smile was devastating to my senses. "I would love to."

I offered her my arm. My insides dancing recklessly to a tempo it had no right to indulge in. It increased when she slid her hand into the crook of my arm and let me lead her the rest of the way across the courtyard.

We stopped at the kitchen where Cooke was packing up leftovers to take to the shelter on his way home. He looked up when we stepped into his domain and lifted an eyebrow.

"Boss?"

Rather than answer his unasked question, I placed a hand on Blue's lower back and guided her to the stool tucked beneath the preparation table.

"We're fine," I told Cooke. "Just making some tea."

"Can I help—?"

I shook my head. "I think we can manage."

Cooke inclined his head and went back to sealing three stray pork chops in a container.

"Thank you for supper," Blue said softly. "It was delicious."

The other man raised his head, seemingly startled by the gesture. "You're welcome."

It was on the tip of my tongue to point out that she hadn't eaten any of it. Sure, she moved things around on her plate and brought the occasional empty fork to her lips, she hadn't actually gotten a thing inside her. I knew because I spent a great deal of my time watching her every move when she was in the room.

Regardless, I made no indication that I'd seen her poor eating attempts as I walked to the kettle wedged in a corner between the fridge and stove, and took it to the sink. I filled it.

"Is there anything you would like for breakfast?" Cooke was asking Blue when I set the electric kettle on its base.

She shook her head. "I'm really not picky. Everything you've made so far has been wonderful."

Cooke beamed at the compliment. "Thank you."

The two fell into a polite conversation about different meals they enjoyed and I listened while putting a tray together of cups, the sugar bowl and creamer. Cooke seemed delighted by her by the time I had boiled water tipped into the cups with the teabags. The sweet scent of roses filled the kitchen.

Cooke stacked his containers into his carry on and tossed the strap over his shoulder.

"It was wonderful to meet you," he said to Blue. "Let me know if you need anything."

With a wave, he left, leaving me alone with the beauty at the island.

"That smells lovely," she said, turning her body on the stool to face me.

"Does it, love?" I teased, reaching for a red apple nestled amongst the other fruit piled inside the ceramic bowl on the counter. "What did you think of supper?"

She looked me dead in the eye. "Delicious."

I bit down on my smirk by turning my back and rummaging through the drawers for a knife. I cut a thick chunk without peeling the shiny skin.

With my morsel in hand, I went to her and held it to her lips. She peered at me with those unfathomable eyes brimming with confusion.

"Such a dirty, little liar. Open."

She did obediently and I slid the offering across her tongue. She bit down. Attention focused on me.

"What do you mean?" she asked around her mouthful.

The half-moon wedge with her teeth marks was popped into my mouth. "You didn't eat supper. You moved it around but you didn't put any of it in your pretty mouth." My smirk widened with the parting of her lips. I cut another sliver and brought it to her mouth. She took it without prompting. "Bad girl. You thought I wouldn't notice." I leaned in until our faces were mere inches apart. "I notice fucking everything about you, Blue."

I heard the audible gulp of the apple being swallowed. I saw the dilation of her pupils. Heard the catch in her breath.

Fuck, I wanted to kiss her. Wanted to taste the sweet nectar of the apple across her tongue.

"What do you think we should do about that?"

"I eat," was her weak, little response.

When you're alone and no one can see you, I thought, but kept to myself.

"I'll make you a deal," I said, slipping another slice of apple between her teeth. "You eat your meals. All three of them. In full. Or..." I moved the knife to the hand with the apple and captured her chin. My thumb swept across the seam of her bottom lip. "I take you back to my office, put you on my lap and feed you myself."

The skin under my fingers flushed. Her tongue grazed the finger still resting on her lip and the color in her cheeks darkened when I tightened my grip.

"I don't think that's necessary," she breathed.

"Perhaps, but sure would be interesting."

A twinkle of laughter lit behind her eyes. "To feed me?"

I let my nose bump hers. Just once. "To put you in my lap."

Her shaky inhalation kicked me straight in the gut. It wrapped like a velvet glove around my cock. It throbbed against the zipper of my pants.

Fuck.

I drew away before I did something I would happily finish in the bedroom.

The core of the apple was chucked into the trash. I rinsed the knife before gathering our tray. I added a blueberry muffin as an afterthought and motioned for her to follow me from the kitchen.

"Are you taking me to your favorite place?" Blue asked as we started along the corridor.

"If I show you that today, what will I show you tomorrow?"

I didn't miss the little pucker of her bottom lip, but she made no complaint as we walked in silence to the office. Her disappointment shifted once we passed the heavy doors into the cavernous chamber lit only by the lamp on my desk.

I set the tray down on the coffee table and faced the woman at my side. She stood with her arms folded beneath her chest.

The temperature of the room had never bothered me, but it did hold a chill and she wasn't wearing a whole lot.

Reaching past her, I dragged the afghan off the sofa and pulled the loosely knitted blanket around her shoulders. I got her to sit as I poured her tea and left her to light a fire in the hearth.

She was watching me over the steaming surface of her cup. The infant flame nipping at the two logs I'd set up reflected in the cool surface of her eyes.

I went to her and took the open cushion next to her. My hands gathered up the open folds of the blanket and tucked it more securely around her.

"How's the tea?" I asked.

"Good," she said and laughed when I raised my eyebrow. As if to prove it, she took a sip.

"Good," I reached for the tray and took the muffin. I brought it to her. "Here."

She took it and studied the golden dome of pastry before lifting her attention to me. "Are you just going to keep feeding me?"

"Yes," I said without missing a beat. "Eat."

She gave a little sigh but gave in. She set her cup down and peeled the wrapper off the pastry. Her bites were dainty, but she nibbled while we talked about our favorite desserts and all the reasons raisins should not be included in anything.

We didn't stop until Blue yawned and I took her up to her room.

"Want me to come tuck you in, love?" I volunteered, a forearm resting on the doorframe as I leaned into her space. Needing just another hit of her scent before I had to walk away.

Blue giggled, her cheeks that tempting hue of red. "I think I'm okay."

I clicked my tongue in feigned disappointment. "Well, in that case, I'll get you for breakfast," I said.

After promising to be ready, she slipped into her room and closed the door.

I waited a moment longer before making my way down to the dining hall where Vance and Oliver sat despite the late hour with their paperwork. Cyrus was a loitering figure at the end of the table, waiting for me.

"Good of you to join us," Vance stated boldly. "We didn't think we would see you tonight."

I took my seat at the head of the table. "Why's that?"

I knew why. I knew he was trying to get under my skin, but the fact was that I was in a good mood and not even Vance was going to make me feel bad about it.

"Just expected you to be entertaining Miss Smith for the evening."

"She's in bed. Hers." I added just in case he thought to pipe in with something else. "What are we looking at?"

Vance set aside the documents he'd been pouring over. "Your downfall if you continue down this path with this girl. We know absolutely nothing about her. The longer she is here, the more at risk we all are."

"What Vance means to say is that maybe it's time we send her on her way. She was clearly headed somewhere. We could help her."

"You don't even know her bloody name," Vance shot in. "She's blinded you with her weak, damsel routine but what does she want? Have you even asked her? Give her money and let's be done with her. Cyrus, tell him."

Cyrus released a breath. "From a security standpoint, she's a risk. She's fine when she's with us, but what is she doing when we're not? At best, I think we should have someone stay with her—"

"No." I sat back in my seat, fingers curling into the smooth wood of my armrest. "She's not a prisoner."

"May I ask what she is then?" Oliver cajoled gently, interrupting whatever Vance was about to say.

It wasn't the first time I was faced with having to address that question. Not only in the solitude of my own mind, but with Cyrus. I still had no answer. I didn't think I ever would.

"What's on the agenda tonight?" I said instead.

I didn't want to talk about Blue and her place in my life anymore. I didn't want to think of the circumstances that might take her from me or the ones that will hurt her if she stayed. There were bigger problems, I told myself.

"The factory mishap," Vance relented with a weary sigh. "David has settled the tragic loss with the family. They were compensated very well."

"I want that place shut down. I don't care if you have to burn it to the ground. It's a hazard and I don't need cops poking around my business."

"We still have eight shipments—"

"Reroute. Pay the cost."

Vance made notes, not looking happy by my decision, but I had no problems cutting ties with things that could jeopardize my entire organization. The factory had started as a front anyway that wound up making money by accident so I kept it, but it was becoming a liability I could no longer afford.

"If that's all cleared up," Oliver cleared his throat. "We still have the Ronin situation."

"I could have a talk with him," Cyrus offered.

We all knew what his idea of talk was.

"As much as I love that idea, the will is clear; no suspicious deaths. The estate will get broken up and divided amongst several charities if there is even a hint of foul play. This close to the deadline with Thoran's failed attempts, it would definitely raise suspicion. He unfortunately must remain alive." Oliver's thin mouth twisted as if the idea greatly displeased him. "Our only option is getting a woman to marry you who doesn't know the ... situation."

"Miss Smith—"

"No!" I growled before Cyrus could even finish. "I won't let this cursed monstrosity have her."

"What if it's only for a little bit," Cyrus prompted. "Hear me out," he said hurriedly when I bared my teeth. "Marry her for a year. That's how long the contract states. After a year..." he let his sentence trail off. "You can set her up with a nice settlement and you both move on. Thoran, I really don't see another option here. No one is going to marry you after what happened."

"Not true." Vance tapped his pen thoughtfully, dark eyes focused on something in the far distance. "There is one way, but you're not going to like it and it's going to take some doing to put it together."