The Clash of Yesterday (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 0.5)

But nope… still as hot as ever.

Still makes me want to drag him off to bed every single time, and more often than not, that’s how we start our evenings together. But I’m caught off guard by his expression.

Not quite grim, but profoundly serious indeed.

“What is it?” I ask as I move around the kitchen island to greet him. The last few weeks, we have slipped into a comforting ease together and there’s no hesitation when I walk into his arms and he presses a kiss on my mouth.

It’s how we greet each other at the end of our workdays. How we greet each other when we wake up.

Both times, usually when our mouths touch, it leads to other things. But I can feel the tension within his body, so I pull back and ask again. “What’s wrong?”

Ronan shakes his head like he’s going to deny it, but then his shoulders sag slightly. “We need to talk.”

Now that does sound grim, and my defenses come up.

This is it.

He’s going to break up with me because of the old family feud. I know it can’t be for any other reason because we are practically perfect together in all ways but that.

And now I’m not so sure we’re going to evolve the way I thought we had a chance to.

I’m glad I didn’t just blurt out my news when he walked in because, depending on what he has to say, it may change my line of thinking where Ronan is concerned.

“Let’s go sit in the living room,” I suggest, my neck starting to tighten with tension.

He nods, shrugs out of his business jacket, and loosens his tie. Casting a glance into the kitchen, he remarks, “Whatever you’re making smells incredible. I’m starved.”

My shoulders loosen a bit. How bad can this talk be if he’s planning on eating dinner here?

I sit on the couch, angled inward, and cross my legs Indian-style. I’d changed into yoga pants and a loose t-shirt when I’d come home from work about an hour ago.

Ronan plops down beside me, his thigh pressing against my knee, and then his hand comes down to rest on it. The warmth of his touch further reassures me.

His head goes to the back cushion and then rolls my way with a smile. “You look great, by the way.”

I grin, the last of the unease I’d been feeling melting away. “You look great, too.”

Squeezing my knee once, he says, “Carrick Byrne invited me to an impromptu meeting at his office this afternoon. It’s why I was a little late getting home.”

He called this home. My heart actually sighs a bit, because these last few weeks, it has become more and more lost to this man.

“What did he want?” I ask hesitantly. “To cancel your One Bean contract?”

Ronan shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “Actually… he wanted to let me know that he knew you and I are Light Fae.”

“What?” I practically screech in alarm, my butt coming off the cushion as I lean into him.

“Not only that,” he continues with a slight hint of disgust in his voice. “He knows we’re from Brevala, he knows about the feud, and he knows you’re a Meadowlander and I’m a Bluff Dweller.”

“But… but… how?” I stammer.

Ronan shrugs. “He wouldn’t say, but he did admit to having us investigated and so he knew that you and I are seeing each other.”

My pulse fires with fear. “He’s going to tell our families. It’s blackmail, right?”

“Actually, it’s not,” he replies grimly. “He apparently knows something about a prophecy that is supposed to doom earth, and he wanted to know if we could help get Brevala on board to fight.”

The sound coming out of me is half snort, half scoff as I settle back onto the cushion. “He truly doesn’t understand the feud then. That’s impossible.”

“What I told him.” Ronan shifts his body toward me. “He then asked if you and I would fight with him if needed. I declined.”

“Fight what?” I ponder. “Details would be nice.”

“He didn’t have them or wouldn’t give them, but yeah… without details, I wasn’t committing.”

We’re both silent. I lace my fingers with his, holding them tightly on my knee. I do need to ask to make sure. “And you’re positive he’s not going to tell our families about us? Are we safe?”

Ronan frowns slightly but shakes his head. “You know… despite me not trusting much of what he said, I don’t think he wants to hurt us in any way. Just wanted our help, and he didn’t seem put out that I declined.”

I lean against the back cushions, my hand going out to run through Ronan’s hair. I learned early on when we returned from Brevala to Seattle that he liked me doing that. He’d almost purr like a big cat. “Still… I’d kill to know how he recognized us as fae.”