Page 62 of A Heart So Haunted
“I interrupted your …” He sniffed the air. Delicate wrinkles appeared along the bridge of his nose. “Meal. A sad meal at that.”
“I didn’t expect company so abruptly.” His eyes fell, heavy, on me then. In a huff, I hurried to gather a pair of shoes, towels, a broom, and the wet-mop. I was scared he’d go up in smoke as soon as I walked away, just like the blood from his chest.
I whirled back down the hall, arms full. Thankfully, his figure still hovered at the end, closest to the living room.
“I can assist.”
“I’ve got it.”
A clawed hand shot out and blocked my path just as I made to brush by. That earthy scent, the feel of unnaturally warm skin so close to my own, engulfed me.
I stopped in place.
“Allow me.” He reached for the towel, and this time, I didn’t object.
I put on my shoes and swept in silence while Hadrian kept to the corner of the room, careful to not touch the light that pooled from the lamp in the living room. By the time most of the glass was in the dustpan and the cabinets had been wiped down, I asked, low, “It still hurts?”
He stopped by the pantry door, the wet towel dangling between two pinched claws. He draped it over the sink. I didn’t think he’d answer, until he said, “Not the skin. Within the room you found me, I felt no different, like this or as a human. Within the house, if I stand in it too long, it burns here.”
He tapped his chest. Right beside his heart.
I dumped the glass in the trashcan by the island, careful to wipe out any glittering remnants.
“Imagine trying not to blink.” His voice turned smokey, gritty. I could have sworn his silhouette feathered at the edges. “It burns, begins to hurt, and as soon as you blink, the need comes on tenfold. You have to blink so many times your eyes water. It’s simply an urge I cannot control.”
“So you don’t decide when you change?” I’d gathered as much from when I’d found him.
His jaw ticked. “I could not in that room, no. I am unsure, but it feels similar out here. But there is—” he stopped himself. “There is much that has changed. In this house. It feels different from before.”
The strained, borderline hostile way he said this piqued my curiosity, but a flicker of tension radiated over his shoulders, like he might bolt at the first chance. I decided to treat him like a cat: Give a little, but don’t push. Eventually, he’d tell me.
“What do you do, then? During the day.”
That stillness came back. The air thickened, like he was debating whether or not he wanted to tell me.
“I am here but not. I can see you all, but am still along the shadows. The slightest of places,” he muttered. Those yellow eyes latched to me. “I can hear some conversations, some movement, but not all.”
I waded through the surprisingly heavy moment and propped the broom against the wall. I forced a slight smile.
“So you really could hide in a closet if you wanted to?”
“Wherever darkness touches, I am there.”
My smile fell. “That’s so sad.”
“I’ve had worse things to do with my time.” He slunk back into the pantry, angled just so to where I couldn’t make out his expression. “That lamp is horrid, just so you know. The bulb makes my eyes ache.”
“Remove LED bulbs.” I feigned a checklist. “Got it.”
The door groaned as he slipped inside. His horns scraped along the frame. Then, it was just me and two floating eyes and an ugly lamp shining from the living room.
I tried to search for the right words. Did he want me to remove the bulbs and find warm ones? The idea of being cooped up in the house all day, unable to do anything, sounded as appealing as making me take up public speaking.
I reeled the idea back. Making him comfortable might not be the best idea. He could be lying to me. There was no telling what he actuallywasdoing, if he could only move along the shadowed areas like he said. Maybe I’d wait a little while and see how things went with him here before giving an inch. Knowing my luck, he’d take a mile if I let my heart soften.
After a moment, I reached for the towel over the sink.
“Did you hear anything last night? Like crying?”While he had complete free rein of the house, I thought. So many shadows, so much to slip through. “I didn’t hear anything, but I fell asleep pretty early.” And Emma hadn’t mentioned anything. Not that she’d tell me.
