Writing with Blood (The Blood Duet Book 2) by Dolores Lane

Author:Dolores Lane [Lane, Dolores]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-27T16:00:00+00:00

Rose and I are taking a bath together, both of our bodies still hurt and weak from the night before. Some of the bruises on my body are the size of a large fist.

That fucking electrocution device.

Rose sits between my legs and my back is placed against the end of the bath, my arms around her waist, underneath her breasts.

I see the change in Rose. She’s coming to terms with our reality. She hasn’t cried in hours. The last time was before Bill took me away.

We’re both quiet, only the sounds of our breaths filling the air.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks after a while.

I move my hand over her heart, feeling it beating. “I was thinking about how I always loved to sing,” I tell her. “How I would be singing for my mother right now. Next to her hospital bed or by her grave.”

My heart breaks every time I think about the last time I saw her. When I heard the gunshot go off and her screaming at the top of her lungs. Our dogs barking desperately in the garden, right before it all turned to black. I miss them. So much. My dear Maggie. Her soft, fuzzy body snuggled up to mine in bed, her sweet snoring next to me while I was working, or when she played on the beach in the water.

Is James taking care of them? Did he take them to Mara again, Eric’s wife?

Rose moves her hand over mine and squeezes. “She’s not dead, Jane. She’s waiting for you. James must have saved her. He was close by, right? He got to her in time.”

“I like to believe that,” I sigh. “But there’s no way of knowing.”

“What would you sing to her?”

“She loves Queen,” I answer, my lips curling up into a painful, melancholy smile. “But I don’t have the skills to sing Bohemian Rhapsody. That’s her favorite.”

“Oh, come on, you could do that,” Rose says, and I can hear that she’s smiling.

“Trust me, I can’t,” I tell her. “James always used to say that I’m the most terrible singer on Earth. And he was right about that.”

James.

I miss him. I feel for him. I know in how much pain he is, how much panic and hurt. He feels powerless, no matter how much he’s doing his best to find me.

I remember what he was like after I was raped that night in the alley. He was in just as much pain as me.

“Do you know that song, Taking Pictures of You?” Rose asks. “By The Kooks?”

“I do,” I answer. “It’s a nice song.”

“Sing it to me.” Just when I start to protest and tell her how much she doesn’t want that, she says, “Please.”

I take a deep breath, swallowing my protests. I feel too sad, too broken. But I suck it up. I can put my feelings aside for her. If I can help her feel a little better, I’ll do it. “Okay,” I finally say.

I caress her skin with my nails softly and try to recall the lyrics of the song.

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