Tempted by a Rogue Prince Read Free Page B

memories that welled up, lashing at her. She hated that she now knew how to kill. She hated knowing she was capable of that darkness. It scared her.
    She feared becoming like her sister, a dark witch drawing on the shadowy other side for her power—the realm of death.
    But worse than that, she feared that now she knew how to kill, she could do it again if she had to, and next time it would be easier.
    Rosalind opened her eyes and focused on the man in front of her, on the present rather than the past or what might lay ahead in her future.
    The aura of danger clinging to him was growing stronger. He was healing himself. Was he one of the warriors from the war? If he was, what side had he fought on and what species was he?
    The only way to find out the answers to those questions was to complete the task she had been sent here to do.
    She blew out her breath and held her hands over his bare chest. As she lowered them, bringing them almost into contact with his skin, she channelled the only power available to her into him, seeking out his wounds and fixing them as best she could. There were so many.
    Her power drained quickly and she had to take regular breaks to avoid overtaxing herself and passing out. She didn’t want to lose consciousness in a cell with this dangerous stranger, not when she didn’t have the power to protect herself.
    The fast drain on her power confirmed something for her though. This man’s injuries and wounds ran deeper than those of the flesh that she could see. He was weak for a reason, whether that was a sickness of the body or of the mind.
    His eyelids fluttered and she withdrew her hands again, her breath lodging in her throat as she waited. His long black lashes lifted, revealing steel-blue eyes. His dilated pupils swiftly narrowed and his hands shot up above his head. He snarled at the cuffs and pulled his wrists apart, tugging the chain between them taut. He heaved harder, his muscles tensing and rippling beneath his bloodstained pale skin, and growled when the chain didn’t break.
    “They dampen our powers,” she said.
    His gaze darted to her and narrowed, steel blue-grey that burned into her, sending a fierce shiver of awareness through her that drew every drop of her focus to him. What species was he? Vampire? Werewolf? Both of them had a human appearance and she had met many of their kind in the past, but none had affected her as this man did.
    He struggled harder against his bonds and the metal sliced into his wrists, spilling blood down his arms. It didn’t stop him from fighting the restraints.
    “Stop!” Rosalind snapped, her voice echoing around the stone cells.
    He turned a murderous glare on her and flexed his fingers. His demeanour changed instantly, becoming distraught as his eyes went to his wrists and he flexed his fingers again. Over and over. He did it at least ten times before he began to growl and try harder, struggling against his bonds at the same time. Was something supposed to happen whenever he flexed his fingers?
    He kept trying, clearly convinced that if he just kept doing it, whatever he was expecting would happen.
    It wouldn’t.
    She could sympathise. After the demons of the Fifth Realm had captured her during the battle and she had awoken in her cell, she had tried for hours to blast the bars and every demon who had strolled along the corridor and smirked at her.
    She had been convinced that she could find the trick to get around the spell embedded into the metal.
    This man was too.
    His eyes went glassy and he sagged against the stone bench, his cuffed wrists dropping and slamming hard into his heaving chest.
    Rosalind inched closer.
    The man managed to slide his gaze her way, and passed out.
    She sighed, carefully moved his hands back down to his stomach, and went back to work. She held one hand over his forehead and the other above his heart, closed her eyes, and shut the world out as she channelled as much energy as she could spare into him.
    “Let him