Two Roped and Ready [Bewitching Desires 6] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) by Mellanie Szereto Page A

it’s Heléna. I brought your lunch.”
    Quayde’s stomach had no interest in food, but he offered a polite greeting. “Hi, come on in.”
    “Not awake yet?” She balanced a tray as she entered the bedroom, aiming for the dresser. “Looks like I need to light the new candles, too.”
    PC levered up on his elbow. “Thanks, Heléna. Can I ask you a question?”
    Striking a match, she touched it to a clean wick and then repeated the process with the remaining two candles. “Sure.”
    “Will the family bless our joining if Quayde and I take the vows, even if Ilona can’t do the same yet?”
    She pursed her lips, and her eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know. The situation has never come up.” Turning back to the candles, she blew out the flames of the old trio. “Ilona’s very lucky. You’ve proven your love and loyalty many times over.”
    The girl’s wan smile didn’t match her encouraging words, and Quayde could only guess that she hadn’t found a mate—or mates—to make her feel special. “Do you have a mate, Heléna?”
    Ducking her head, she picked up the plates from the tray and delivered one to PC’s nightstand. “My twenty-first birthday is in twelve days. My fertility cycle starts on December twenty-fifth.” She rounded the bed, placing the second dish on the other night table. “It’s too dangerous to leave the estate or allow anyone in. Perhaps the shifter will no longer be a threat by my next cycle.”
    She seemed resigned to a seven-year delay in finding love, but she didn’t show any outward signs of distress. Quayde couldn’t imagine having his body dictate when he discovered Ilona—the anticipation, followed by disappointment if the timing wasn’t perfect. He’d rather wait beside his true love for her to awaken than know his search would have to be put on hold.
    “I’ll come back in about an hour for your dishes and to let you know if the joining can be blessed.” Gathering the green stumps of the candles from the dresser, Heléna hurried out the door, making no noise as she left the apartment.
    PC settled next to Ilona again, plainly not in the mood to eat, either. “That shifter is a pain in the ass.”
    “Yeah. A mean bastard.” Lack of a full night’s sleep all week set off a string of yawns, and Quayde laid his head on the pillow. “I’m going to see if I can get some shut-eye.”
    “Me too.”
    Rolling toward Ilona, Quayde rested his hand on her hip, unable to keep from touching her. He let his eyes drift shut and made the same wish he made every time he slept. Let her wake up.
     
    * * * *
     
    Glass clinked. Light footfalls shuffled on the floor. Fabric swished in rhythm with the footsteps. A clunk and then more swishing and shuffling faded to quiet. Several slow blinks revealed dim light, and a slow inhale brought the scent of eucalyptus, melted wax, and cloves. Heat soothed stiff, achy muscles.
    Slowly opening her eyes, Ilona focused on the ceiling. Her bedroom ceiling. How did I get here? The last thing she remembered was fumbling for the doorknob to her suite and battling a bout of light-headedness. Had she fainted?
    No, she hadn’t fainted. Poison . Aunt Agnes had said the word while Ilona fought to stay conscious. Her eyelids had refused to cooperate, leaving her to rely solely on her senses other than sight to stay aware. Aunt Flóra had poked at her thumb until Ilona wanted to scream in agony, but no sound would rise in her unresponsive throat. Her whole body had gone numb, her muscles incapable of reacting to her brain’s commands.
    A splinter had carried Kazmer’s venomous essence into her bloodstream, but removing the piece of wood hadn’t stopped the toxins already flowing into her limbs. Sleep overtook her during the confusing mix of panicked voices, paralyzed nerves, and the almost-minty flavor of chamomile on her tongue.
    How long had she slept? From the lack of daylight, she guessed early morning or evening had come. Had she rested through the