“I wouldn’t be surprised. For a thieving bunch, forest gremlins are incredibly industrious.”

Absently, Stone touched his abdomen where he’d gotten hit. Nothing remained of the original injury, no scar of any kind. He was fully healed.

In fact, it dawned on him that he had no pain, as in no pain, not even a single stomach cramp.

He frowned and pressed his hand higher to encompass where he normally would have experienced intense cramping. Even after being fed by Aralynn, he should have been hurting. Apparently, he’d received some miraculous healing from Kaden.

He knew the man wasn’t a typical realm-person. While being healed, Stone had felt the quality of the man’s power. Whoever Kaden was, he was extraordinary.

Yet even Kaden hadn’t leached Margetta’s poison from his system. Only Aralynn’s blood had been able to perform that service.

He turned slowly in Aralynn’s direction. She was attempting to reorder the mass of her frizzy red hair, her arms raised as she worked the errant curls into the woven Guardsman clip.

His mind suddenly felt full of static.

Her blood had cleansed his body of Margetta’s poison. What kind of blood could even do that?

What had he been thinking about?

Right. He needed clothes.

He pushed away from the edge of the marble slab, then tightened the towel once more around his hips.

Yet, he returned his hand to his stomach and actually looked down as though trying to comprehend. He felt as though he knew something that his mind refused to take in.

He waited for the pain to return, for that slicing ache that had dogged him since he’d become a mastyr vampire.

But there was nothing there.

Nothing.

Not even a faint warning twinge.

That’s when the truth dawned.

Aralynn drew close, her eyes pinched. She grabbed his arm. “Stone, what’s wrong? You look really upset. Are you in pain? Did the poison return? Do you need more of my blood?”

He met her gaze. “More of your blood?”

“Yes, do you need me to donate again?”

He shook his head.

“Then, why so distressed?”

“Aralynn, I think you might be a blood rose.”

She laughed outright. “No, that’s not possible.” When he didn’t respond with an answering form of amusement, her cheeks took on a sudden drawn look. “You’re serious?”

“I am.” He leaned close and sniffed her. “From the time I met you, I could smell you, your skin and your blood. You have a profound scent that I’d say is somewhere between the richness of these woodlands and an herb I can’t place. I’ve never known another woman to smell as you do, to give up such a rich erotic scent. Every time I smell it, my groin heats up and there’s only one experience in the Nine Realms that corresponds to all of this: to my lack of pain after feeding from you, my craving to be near you, my intense dislike when you look at other men, and the way you smell. You’re a Goddess-be-damned blood rose.”

Aralynn’s lips parted and her eyes widened. She shook her head repeatedly. “No. That’s not possible, Stone. It would be the worst joke on me and on you. I can’t be a blood rose and especially not to you. Oh, no wonder our mating frequencies played against each other the way they did and the ecstasy that followed was unreal. Oh, no.” She put a hand on her cheek.

To Stone’s horror, Aralynn, the tough wolf warrior that she was, burst into tears.

Like any man, he had no idea what to do. He wanted to pat her shoulder but was afraid she’d freak out if he touched her.

She moved in a circle, both hands swiping at her face, her eyes pinched. She was murmuring something unintelligible.

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