Page 13 of Midnight Whispers

“I can recognize you obviously don’t want to talk about it, but we have lived together for lifetimes. I know all of your tells. So, what has happened? What’s wrong?” he asks while he sits down on one of the couches.

“Asher.” I give him an exasperated look.

“Anyways, what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing of importance.”

“Please don’t make me use the sire bond to command your honesty.” Asher raises a brow. There has only been one other time he’s been forced to use it and I hated it then, so I would definitely hate it now. Before he has a chance to force it out of me, I release a frustrated sigh and turn to him. Once I begin to talk about her, everything begins to pour out of me. I tell him of my desire for her, the way her blood calls to me, the way I burn for her.

“Well, shit.” He releases a deep sigh. “She’s a mortal? I can only imagine how difficult you are trying to contain your thirst. Do you need us to leave? We can be gone in two days. Whatever you need.”

I shake my head. “No. I’ll be okay. We just got back. I know this is one of the towns you have always enjoyed the most. Plus, we just did the new build, and you haven’t yet had a chance to enjoy it.”

At this point in our existence, we have six homes scattered across the world. If we aren’t actively traveling, we bounce between them as needed. Emolyn Cove has always been one of the places we have gravitated back to, but my favorite is our home in London. The only two homes that I don’t like visiting are the ones in Los Angeles and France. There are just too many ghosts that linger in them.

Asher quirks an eyebrow at me. “If you're sure, but you say the word and we are gone.”

I nod curtly. “I want to stay. I need to protect her.”

“From?” He folds his arms in front of himself.

“I do not know.” A half lie I want to protect her from everything, but mostly myself.

“Finnian,” Asher warns. “You arenotthe monster youbelieve yourself to be. You have the kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. You just need to believe in your ability to be good, your ability to be kind.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “You know me as much as I know myself, if not better. You of all people cannot believe that to be true.”

There was a moment of silence as Asher contemplated his next words. “Thatis why I changed you. You were exactly the type of person I wanted to be attached to for eternity. It has always pained me that you have never seen the goodness that even the change couldn’t take from you.”

I turn away from him, ashamed that I don’t share the same sentiment as he does. Silently, he gets up and moves to leave me alone in the library. He stops at the threshold and turns to me.

“I do think you may be right about protecting her, but not from yourself. You should check the news. I think an oldfriendmay be paying us a visit.”

My eyes meet him and my stomach sinks.

“You don’t mean…” He gives a slight nod, confirming my suspicion. I drag my hand over my face. “Well fuck.”

He leaves the room, but I remain alone with only my thoughts. The tone in his voice gave me enough information for me to know exactly who it was.

Cedar had come to Emolyn Cove.

A wave of fierce protectiveness washes over me, filling my chest with anger. My vision quickly floods crimson at the thought of Cedar getting near her, using his charisma to harm her. Even though I just left her, an overwhelming need to see her replaces the anger, ensuring her safety has become the most important thing.

It’s irrational, really, the feeling that quickly began to occupy all my thoughts. The chances of her being in danger in his presence were slim, but the urge to protect her, protect whatismine, causes the tension to rise. I know the sensation that fills my body will not cease until I see her with my own eyes.

I rush out of the manor without even muttering a word to Asher. The trees blur at my sides as I run within the forest. I make no noise against the mossy floor, my speed at such heights I’m barely touching the floor. As I near her cottage, I tug the hood of my pullover up and over my face, in hopes to hide the reflection of the moon off my pale skin.

All the lights are off, except for the porch light. Humans are utterly predictable, so it’s easy enough to get into her home. Over time I have learned that in a mortal’s home, a door or window is left unlocked and if it isn’t, there’s a key hidden somewhere around the porch. Tonight, the front door of her cottage remains unlocked. As if providing an invitation for me to see myself in.

Not just me, however. Leaving the door unlocked is a good way to put yourself directly in the path of danger. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to calm my anger as it begins to erupt in my chest.

To my immediate right is a small table scattered with knicknacks, keys, and to my delight, a wallet. As much as I don’t want to go through her personal belongings, this could be my opportunity to learn her name. I open the trifold, looking only at her identification that readsLillia Jane Alcott.I close it, clasping the button, and replace it back in its spot on the table.

My Lillia.

I step lightly down the short hallway. The first door is open and leads to a bedroom, the wall lined with shelves and frames. There are shelves that house various crystals and vials full of herbs, liquids, unknown substances, and frames that hold petrified insects like butterflies and dragonflies. In the center is a bed dressed in dark linens, and occupied by her friend, Flo. Dark and light hair is scattered across the pillow as she sleeps.

I exit silently and find there’s a door across the hall that is cracked slightly. I push it open, just enough room for my body to fit through. Artificial vines intertwined with lights are spread out, hanging from the four-post bed. There’s very little on the walls except for a few antique frames that hold photographs, and bookcases full of various literature ranging from modern day smut to the classics. I run my fingers over the novels' spines of her books. She is a fan of classic literature, but I can also tell that she doesn’t limit herself to only one genre. The many spines of various versions ofDraculasteal my attention, the irony in that being one of her favorites.

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