Read Online Phoenix Rising by Heather R. Blair - Free Book Online Page B

“You think I want to see, Kels? That this is somehow easy for me?” His face was tight, his jaw working as he took in her tear-streaked face. “But I can not leave you alone right now. You are going into shock. It isn’t easy the first time. The pain of being blooded… the other….
    "And I drank far more than I should have. You need something to eat and drink, and then sleep. Someone has to watch over you for awhile.”
    “I’ll sleep here. And I can take care of myself.”
    Kelsey hated sleeping in the office. But it wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before and she was far too shaky to try and get home. Especially if he would insist on seeing her there himself. And he would.
    “ Non .”
    “Oui, you stubborn French bastard! ”
    “You are shaking like a leaf, you won’t even make it through the door.” He pulled it wide with a flourish, “Care to try, you stubborn American woman?”
    She glared at him through her tears, but moved forward determinedly.
    And crumpled after three steps. Miles caught her before she hit the stone entryway floor, but not before the blackness took her away.
     
    Miles walked down the hallway he'd traversed the day before with quick, almost mechanical strides, Kelsey limp in his arms.
    Kicked open the door to her office and deposited her on the settee. Located a bottle of sparkling water in the mini-fridge and some sort of energy bar or whatnot in bowels of her huge desk.
    The split wood leered up at him as he rummaged, reminding him how easily things got out of hand with this woman. As if he needed reminding. He was going to leave, and god willing, never return to the States again.
    Miles roused her enough to force half the bottle of water down her, plus the whole energy bar, bite by bite. She refused to look at him, but didn’t fight about it. He watched as she curled up on the settee, tugging her dress down as she told him to go again, her words slow and slurred as she struggled against the exhaustion.
    “Where is a blanket?”
    Kelsey grumbled a protest. When he just folded his arms and glared at her, she finally said, “Jules always leaves a spare coat in the closet, that’ll have to work.”
    Miles’ felt a muscle in his jaw tic in and out as he found her large friend’s coat and draped it over her. It did indeed cover her from head to toe, but he didn’t like it. Seeing her draped in another man clothes, whatever the context, made him feel all kinds of things he had no business feeling.
    He had laid that out beyond all doubt for both of them.
    Miles strode around her office restlessly, waiting for her to give into sleep so he could leave in good conscience. Or at least pretend to.
    He looked at the paintings again. Glared at the Van Gogh, and then his eyes fell to examine the one photograph on her desk. He had noticed it earlier but hadn’t been in the mood to ask.
    Now Miles picked it up, studying the laughing woman with the gold eyes. He had a pretty good idea who it must be, but asked anyway.
    “Who is this?”
    Kelsey’s voice was ragged with exhaustion and the roughness of unshed tears. “My mother.”
    She had told him about her mother, not a lot but little things here and there. Like you do.
    Like how her mother planted huge plots of flowers every spring in a fit of energy, so deliriously happy for the end of winter. Then how she would forget to weed or water them because she’d get distracted by other projects, so that Kelsey said their place always looked like a toddler had finger painted their yard with a mad riot of flowers and weeds.
    Her mother also painted, he remembered. And sang. And danced. And apparently anything that took her fancy for more than five minutes. Dabbling, Kelsey said her mother called it. Always find time to dabble, Kelsey. It keeps the blues away. Her stories about her mother had always made him smile.
    Miles knew Kelsey’s dad had died when she was very small and that her mother had never remarried. Kelsey had said once her mom