Page 139 of The Midnight Order
“There was a man there. Well, I don’t think he was a man, actually. He had a woman in his hand. She was dead, covered in blood. He had fangs and red eyes. Her blood dripped from his mouth.”
“Vampire.”
I nod as a singular tear makes its way down my cheek. “He kept saying he did it for my protection. Something about always protecting me.”
“Who was he? Did you get a feeling you knew him?”
“I did.”
His soothing caresses along my hair have my body relaxing, and I know that sounds insane because he could kill me before I’ve registered that he’s moved at all.
“What do you think it means?” I ask him.
“You’re more than a key to some curse, Silver. But I don’t know what that means for you or all of us. Only time will tell.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Why?” His lips brush the shell of my ear, and I elongate my neck, knowing full well what I’m doing to both of us.
“Because what will we be when the other shoe drops? How far will we have gone down this rabbit hole of us?”
He stops teasing my throat with his fangs as he lays me on my back and looms over me. His red eyes bore into mine. “Will it matter?”
I swallow. The weight of his question is heavy. Damning, even. “Of course it matters. Because if I continue down the path that I’m on, I’ll burn this town, the world, and myself to ash to protect the four of you when two weeks ago, I was only a New York City real estate broker.”
His answering chuckle is dark as he leans down, hovering his lips over mine. “My dearest Silver, you were always more than that. We both know it.”
I don’t even have time to ponder his words before his lips crash into mine. His kiss is as all-consuming as it was in the gazebo, and my hands find their way to his hair as I feel the last visages of the nightmare crawl away from my psyche under each lash of his tongue.
When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless, and he’s hungry. “We should stop.”
He presses his forehead against mine before retreating, tugging me back into him as he holds me tightly. “Sleep, Sweet Silver. I’ll keep watch.”
I meant to say something sassy back, but I didn’t have the time. I’m too comfortable.
Jasper left early this morning,and I got up to start cleaning up some of the mess they left behind in their haste to renovate my house.
It’s a sweet gesture, but I wanted this project to be my own.
I called the firm, and Cara told me all was well. She caught me up on some of the newest listings, recently closed deals, and some deals that went south—to be expected in a business as cyclical as mine. It made me feel more normal to have such a typical conversation with Cara, especially when she went on and on about John and his antics.
Now, I’m rummaging through the attic, where it seems I missed a lot of boxes of Soliel’s for donation.
I’ve been organizing all morning, and it’s not until the mid-afternoon sun is bleeding through the few small attic windows at the roof’s peak that I find a box labeledSilverthat makes me stop in my tracks.
It’s a file box, white and dusty. A brown stain on one of the corners adds to its air of mystery.
I trudge it toward the window, where a god-awful yellow couch waits. I want to burn it to the ground because it’s an eyesore, but now isn’t the right time.
I plop down and dust billows around me.
Coughing, I dust off the top of the box to see if there’s anything else labeled.
It’s just my name.
No dates; nothing.
My hands shake as I slide the lid upward, then pull it off and toss it onto the floor.
