Page 64 of Moonlit Thorns

If Anabelle knew how often I think of her, how I feel this pressing need to keep her hidden away from the world, safe, she’d probably run screaming from here.

But I can give her this. Something she’ll appreciate and come to love.

She steps farther into the room, staring around, taking it all in. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to intrude.”

I step up behind her, cupping her shoulders. I can’t resist touching her. “You’re not intruding. I want you to have this. Enjoy it.”

She turns in my arms and wraps her arms around my neck, and I bend to let her because I’m weak where she’s concerned. So weak for this woman.

“Thank you, Asher.”

Allowing myself to wrap my arms around her, I get this strange sensation in my chest as our bodies press together. There’s arousal there, yes. There’s always an undercurrent of desire present whenever I’m with her. But this is something different, something foreign that I can’t decipher.

Before I can no longer resist temptation, I straighten and unwind her hands from around my neck, then step back. “I’ll have lunch brought to you in here so you can explore.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” The gold flecks in her big brown eyes sparkle with happiness, and I want to puff out my chest for being the cause for that look.

I merely nod and leave the room, disturbed by how her happiness fuels my own.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

ANABELLE

I’ve spent the past two nights in the library, exploring all it offers. There are more books than I can read in a lifetime, but it’s such a thrill to go through them all and plan which I want to read first.

I even found an old gardening book about roses. There are notes in the margins in a feminine cursive I assume must be Asher’s mother’s. As soon as I saw them, a plan formed in my mind—I’m going to try to nurse the rose bush in the maze back to health as a thank you to Asher.

I’m still not exactly sure why he’s given me free rein in the library, but I’m eternally grateful. It’s almost overwhelming how many books are in there.

I have to force myself to put down the book I’m reading, turn out the bedside lamp, and go to sleep. I toss and turn for half an hour before I eventually drift off.

Hours later, I’m not sure what has awoken me until my brain fires up enough to recognize the sound of operatic music. It’s the same song that originally drew me to the library the day Asher found me there.

I listen for a moment, fright turning my muscles to stone and making me unable to move. It’s not coming from my room, but somewhere outside the door. Rolling over, I switch on the bedside lamp. It casts a golden glow over the room, not nearly full enough to prevent shadows from lurking in the corners.

“Hello?” I say into the darkness.

I’m relieved when there’s no answer, though I don’t know if it’s good or bad.

The music continues, starting over from the beginning.

Could Asher be listening to music at… I glance at the bedside clock… three o’clock in the morning? Seems unlikely, but not impossible. His room is on the same level as mine.

Pushing off the blankets, I sit on the edge of the bed and set my feet on the lush area rug.

Midnight Manor is unnerving in the daytime, but even more so at night. I don’t often wander through the house after dark, and the idea doesn’t exactly appeal right now, but neither does lying here wondering where the music is coming from.

I walk across the room and crack open the door. The music is louder now, and the hallway is only dimly lit by flickering sconces. I creep down the hall, feeling the shadows at my back as though they’re chasing me and urging me forward. The long, wide hallway ahead of me feels never-ending as the darkness wraps around me.

Goose bumps prickle my skin, and that distinct sensation of being watched washes over me once more. I walk faster, panic rising and causing my shoulders to climb up toward my ears.

Just go back to your room. What are you doing?

I’m farther from my room now than I am from Asher’s room, which is where the music seems to be coming from. The chorus of voices crescendos, and there’s something deeply disturbing about the sound of them—male and female merging as one. They sound as though they’re issuing a warning, but it’s in a language I don’t understand.

By the time I reach the doors of Asher’s suite, the music is so loud that it surrounds me, fills me up, and becomes a part of me. There’s something unearthly about it.

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