Protected by Stone (A Paranormal Romance Novel) by Cynthia Brint Read Free Book Online Page B

one wide hand again. I saw the exertion on his face, his teeth revealed for a scant second as he struggled to twist the knob. In the dark, I thought they looked sharp, his eyes blacker.
    He released it, dusting his palms on the front of his grey jacket. His expectant look sent a nervous chill to the back of my neck. “You're joking with me again.”
    “Again?” he balked, looking offended. “I never joked with you, Miss Blooms. Not once.”
    I didn't like the implication of that. “So you can't open this door, but you're saying I can?”
    Grault parted his lips, a flicker of irritation dancing in his features. His hesitation, next, startled the both of us. “To be fair, I can't say for sure you can open it. I've been running on the assumption that, as Tessa's blood, you can.”
    “That's your reasoning?”
    “Open the door, Miss Blooms.”
    I threw my hands up, though I whispered instead of shouted. “You're messing with my head.”
    “Just open it, please,” he huffed, squeezing the bridge of his nose.
    “Stop playing games with me!”
    He made a noise, a growl , before glaring at me so hotly it cracked my composure. “We're wasting so much time here, Miss Blooms! Why won't you open it?”
    We stared at each other, my face blank, hands damp and shaking. And then he noticed it, perhaps before I did. “You're scared , aren't you?” he asked, lowering his tone in a way that made me blush with shame. “You're actually scared to do it. Why?”
    “I'm—I'm not scared,” I said, hearing the lie on my tongue. Turning, my own brown eyes fixed on the brassy knob. “It's just a door, that's all it is.” A door that he can't open, in a house that he says can listen. A house owned by my grandmother who might have been a witch.
    I'm not scared at all, no.
    Swallowing, blood pounding in my ears, I watched my fingers hover over the handle. Just turn it, it'll be locked like it was for him. Just watch and see. Just watch... just...
    We both heard the metallic sound as I opened the door. It set my skin on fire, my shock so solid I almost missed Grault's amazed gasp. “It actually worked,” he said in awe.
    Standing in the doorway, I had no response. I was too busy gazing inside at the room with its wide shelves of books, its bits and bobs, all lit up by the first bright lantern I'd seen inside.
    And there, hanging on the wall in front of me, was a painting of a young woman with messy dark hair, kind chocolate eyes, leaning contently against a huge golden retriever.
    Someone who looked just like me.

Chapter Six.
    “H ow?” I breathed out, standing on the very edge of the open doorway. I didn't look at Grault, I couldn't tear my eyes from that smiling painting. That peek into my past. “How does she look just like me?”
    “That's what bothers you? No 'how did the door open?' Just how do you look alike?” He stepped around me, letting me catch a glimpse of his profile. He, too, was watching the painting with reverence. “You're her granddaughter, it only makes sense.”
    It only makes sense. My knees wobbled, threatening to throw me as I stepped forward. The floor inside was soft and gold. I didn't know what I was going to do, not until I touched the lantern. It sat on the desk below the painting, lighting up the heavy books that lay around like lazy cats. “When was the last time you were in this room, Grault?”
    He didn't answer. Twisting, I watched him curiously. There was a sadness in his face, a look I understood. When you lose someone close to you, it leaves a mark that only others with such an experience can recognize. “Grault?” I asked again, gentler.
    The tall man focused on me, blinking sluggishly. “Forgive me. Tessa spent so much time here, it still feels like she...” Trailing off, he gave his head a hard shake. “Never mind. I was last in here two weeks ago. She sat at her desk, asking me to get her a book from the shelf. When I turned around, she was—” He cleared his throat. “After she