Page 12 of Born Free

Finally, just an hour before I’m done at the hospital, one last text comes through with an address and the time of seven o’clock.

“Are you okay today?” Holly asks when we’re done going over what needs to happen tomorrow. She pulls a bag of donor blood from her bag and slides it across the table to me. “You seem… on edge today.”

I just laugh, shaking my head. But still, I bite into the bag, trying not to moan at the coppery liquid as it hits my tongue. A little blood makes things so much better. “The strangers who showed up at the party last night?” I say, trying to decide how much to disclose. “They might mean trouble. The council is going to meet with them and try to find out what’s going on.”

“There was something about them, wasn’t there?” she says. “They seemed… dangerous.”

I nod. “It’s looking likely. Just, lay low for a few days, okay?”

She nods, and I grab my bag from the hook on the back of my door. I pull my coat on and head down the hall and out onto the sidewalk.

It’s a frigid walk back to my building. Spring still feels ages away, even though it’s mid-February. I just want some sunshine.

Ha. Yeah right. I’m a freaking vampire with extreme eye sensitivity to the sun. Even with sunshades, it’s still disorienting and uncomfortable to be out during the day.

The elevator rattles and creaks as I ride up to my floor. Once inside my apartment, I dump my things and head into the shower. I stand in my closet for a solid five minutes, unsure what is the proper attire to wear when meeting with a literal Royal vampire.

Guess I’ve been in the presence of one for nearly a year. Life was just a little less complicated not knowing he was the heir to an entire region of Europe.

I settle on some black, faux leather pants, a deep green top with a sheer fabric covering my shoulders, details adorning the bodice, and some boots. I dab on some makeup and slick my hair back into a low bun. Glancing at the clock, I find I have thirty minutes until we’re supposed to meet.

I grab my phone and step out into the living room to call Roman.

Only my heart skyrockets right into my throat when I find Roman sitting in one of my chairs, one ankle crossed over the other knee.

“How the hell are you so quiet I didn’t hear you come in?” I ask, pressing a hand into my heart to calm it down.

“Practice,” he says. “I thought we better talk before we see Orlando.”

“Technically, we aren’t together, so you can’t break up with me,” I tease, even though I only half-joke.We better talkdon’t sound like words I want to hear.

“Exactly,” Roman says, cocking his head slightly to the side. “I think we need to be a little clearer. I just…” he shakes his head. “We’ve hadoneconversation, and heirs and shit like that has already been talked about. I don’t want Orlando thinking there is an ounce of wiggle room on the subject.”

Rage and annoyance instantly flare hot through my blood.

It’s the reason Elena tried to keep Mason and me apart after I Resurrected. As a vampire, I can no longer have children. Mason needed heirs. I couldn’t give him that.

And now here it is again, in my face, only this time the stakes are higher. We’re talking about heirs to a throne.

I will never be able to give Roman little princes or princesses.

“I have never wanted kids, Juliet,” Roman says, getting to his feet and crossing to me, and I wonder how my rage was showing that he immediately seems to know what was going on in my head. “It’s never crossed my mind to try and create my own Born. Orlando can go to hell if he even brings it up.”

Roman tentatively reaches a hand out, placing it on my hip. It’s so strange. Is this okay? Should he ask? Should I ask him to touch me? Where is the line of what is okay when we’re not sure where we are with each other?

My eyes rise to meet his. “I think things need to be clear to Orlando so there is no question as to where I stand and why,” Roman says evenly.

I try to find my words. I try to speak up for myself. I try to search for a snarky remark.

But damn, I didn’t realize how deep this wound ran.

“When it comes to the House, you and I need to be good as married, Juliet,” Roman says, his tone quiet and low, serious as the grave. “Is that okay?”

His gaze doesn’t waver. I see no doubt there. I swallow once, feeling like an emotional mess.

“You really mean it?” I ask. My words shake. I don’t want them to, but if my true emotions come out in front of anyone, it will always be Roman. “You’re not going to hold it against me that I can’t give you any heirs? You’re not going to harbor any regret?”

The look in his eyes intensifies. “Never. I swear it on every time you’ve saved my life, Juliet.”

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