Dark Embrace (Dark Gothic Book 6) by Eve Silver

Author:Eve Silver [Silver, Eve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781988674131
Publisher: Eve Silver
Published: 2017-08-29T04:00:00+00:00

14

Killian held her gaze a moment longer, his hands held in tight fists at his sides, his control clearly in place, if somewhat tattered. Sarah recognized that she affected him and that pleased her. The realization was disconcerting.

“Lock the door behind me,” he said, his voice taut.

She had no wish to lock the door against him. She had no wish for him to leave at all. Her lips felt warm, swollen from his kiss, and she wanted only to press her mouth to his and kiss him again.

“If I lock the door, how will you come to me should I call out?” Such a reasonable question, despite the unreasonable circumstance. She could not imagine calling out to him, could not imagine him sitting out there all night on the small, stiff chair. Why would he do that for her?

His shoulders tensed, but he did not look at her again. “There is no door that could stop me if I wanted to be at your side, Sarah. Remember that. Remember that I—” he made a slow exhalation, as though he struggled with the words, and after an instant, he continued in a low, ragged tone “—I am not like other men.”

No, he was not. A part of her recognized that with soul-searing clarity. He was like no one she had ever known. She had long sensed a hidden part of him, held in careful check just beneath the surface, and she did not doubt that he spoke the truth, that no lock, no door could hold him. It was a strange and frightening comfort.

He walked past the small table with the candle and the plate of food, and he paused there, his attention snared. She thought he meant to insist she eat, and she knew that she could not. Her stomach was alternately in knots, or dancing and twisting like it held a thousand butterflies struggling to get free.

“What is this?” he asked, lifting the old and yellowed copy of New Monthly magazine that lay open beside the plate. He read aloud the title of the short story she had pored over so many times that she could recite it by heart. “The Vampyre by John William Polidori—” he glanced at the date “—April 1, 1819.”

His voice had grown eerily flat, devoid of inflection.

“My father was obsessed with that story before his death,” Sarah said. “He read it again and again, studying and dissecting the words as though they held the secret mysteries of life.” She shook her head. “I have read it myself so many times that I can recite it in its entirety. A sad and horrid tale, but I do not see what agitated my father so greatly. There are no secrets hidden there.”

“Are there not?” He cast her a veiled look. “May I take this to read while I keep watch?”

Keep watch. Over her. When was the last time she had felt safe? Months. Perhaps years. But tonight, with Killian guarding her door, she was safe.

She knew not how to place that fact in the twisted uncertainty that had become her life.

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