Claimed by the Shifters: The Mate Games: A Fated Mates Vampire Romance (Pestilence Book 2) by Meg Anne & K. Loraine

Author:Meg Anne & K. Loraine [Anne, Meg & Loraine, K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ravenscroft Press
Published: 2023-02-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

ROSIE

Asher writhed on the floor, eyes rolled back in his head, jaw clenched, muscles in his neck straining. I’d seen this before when my uncle Lucas had been poisoned at one of my family’s antiquated balls in a failed assassination attempt. He’d nearly died, and this was what he looked like as the silver worked its way through him.

“Asher, what can I do? What do you need? Please tell me how to help.”

“Moira. Call . . . Moira.”

Shock had me sitting back on my heels. Moira? But that would mean admitting that I was still alive. He wouldn’t ask me to out myself if it wasn’t serious, but could I really do that? Moira was connected to my brother. There’d be no keeping this from him once I contacted her.

The deathly pallor of Asher’s face made up my mind for me. I’d have to deal with the fallout later. Saving him was far more important than weathering my family’s fury.

Asher’s phone was still sitting on the bar where he’d left it as the sultry beat of the song he’d selected for his performance played in the background. What had started off so promising had taken a terrible turn.

Why is this always happening?

Because you don’t deserve to be happy, Roslyn.

Scrambling to my feet, I grasped his phone with shaking hands. I tapped on the screen, desperate to get to Moira’s contact information, but the bloody thing wouldn’t open for me.

Fingerprint not recognized, flashed on the phone.

Of course he’d have fingerprint security. I raced back to him, dropping to my knees at his side and grabbing his clammy hand. It took me three tries to line up the right finger because Asher Henry wouldn’t go for an index print. No, he used his pinky.

The phone vibrated softly as it accepted the fingerprint. Moira was one of only a handful of numbers. And thank God I knew her full name, because she was saved as ‘That Belladonna Bitch’.

She answered on the second ring.

“Look, Henry. I told you I’d call you when I had something.”

“Moira? It’s, um, not Asher. It’s me . . . Rosie, that is, Roslyn. Blackthorne,” I added lamely.

“Roslyn Blackthorne is dead,” she said carefully, her voice not exactly unfriendly, but a far cry from her usual perky charm.

“On paper, yes. But I assure you, I’m very much alive.”

“How do I know this is you? Tell me something only Rosie would know.”

“You and Ash tried to have a threesome with my aunt Callie, and I walked in on you.”

“Shit on a stick, it really is you. Ooh, girl. Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in? Why the hell are you with Asher?”

“Can we talk about that later? It’s an emergency.”

She exhaled heavily into the phone. “Of course it is. That’s all anyone ever calls me for. Why isn’t it ever ‘Hey Moira, how’s the wife? What are you growing in the garden? Perform any cool spells lately?’ But noooo, it’s always doom and gloom for me. Well then, hit me with it.

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