The Architect of Song (Haunted Hearts Legacy Book 1) by A. G. Howard

Author:A. G. Howard [Howard, A. G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Golden Orb Press
Published: 2016-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

I removed my hat as I stepped into my room, and set the new pot and the bucket of soil on my floor. There was no fire in the fireplace, nothing at all that resembled warmth—an iciness accentuated by Hawk’s absence. Yet I procrastinated reviving him. I needed to be alone for once. To work out my thoughts without anyone else in my head.

What had Lord Thornton meant, when he said the dungeon wasn’t my concern—yet? Were those medieval torture devices mere pieces in a collection, or tools for some twisted sense of sadistic pleasure he liked to use upon the women he bedded? My gut clenched.

The man who sat with me, patiently and gently wrapping flowers so as not to break their stems or crumple their petals … the man who seemed to have an affinity for animals and nature and children … was he capable of such demented cruelties?

I patted the bruise on my cheek, remembering how tender he was when he soothed it. How full of wonder he looked after we touched.

He baffled me. On the one hand, I felt a connection with him, an inexplicable kinship. I felt as if I knew him—understood him on some deep level. Perhaps due to the physical hindrances we had in common, or to our shared affinity for creating things with color and texture. But on the other hand, he frightened and infuriated me.

A desperate, thudding sensation awoke behind my sternum, and I reminded myself none of this mattered. I was still in control. I wasn’t going to wed him. I would never have to know who he truly was.

So why did I ache to know? Why did I want to feel his touch again?

A chill seeped into my bones. In the soft afternoon light, my turquoise ceiling swelled overhead, a rolling ocean of gloom waiting to crash down upon me. Craving the security Hawk’s presence always provided, I tucked the locket beneath my bodice so it touched my flesh.

He didn’t appear.

Hawk? I called to him in my mind. Was he so angry and hurt he refused to return? Was that even possible?

Tears sprung to my eyes. I surveyed my surroundings through the blur. Nothing seemed to be disturbed. The spiced aroma of his flower still filled the room. It sat on the Secretaire, all eight petals shimmering in place. In fact, it appeared to have flourished since I last saw it. No new petals, but the ones remaining seemed perkier.

Then I noticed that something had been disturbed. The dead petals I’d left sprinkled upon the bureau were gone.

“She must’ve taken them with her.”

My pulse leapt at hearing Hawk’s voice. “Where are you?”

“Hiding.” With a rustle beneath my bed, my ghost rolled out from under the frame. “Thanks to your Judas kiss, I was forced to perfect a new trick today.” He stood, dusting himself, though nothing clung to him. It was all for show.

Unable to face his wounded frown, I focused on his muddied boots as they tracked toward me.

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