Page 24 of Whispers of the Dead

A sharp knock at the door makes my whole body go rigid, and Avery growls against my throat. His grip on metightens when my body trembles. Now my heart really is racing from fear, especially when it’s Eugene’s voice that comes through the door. “Sir, I heard you might have something of mine.”

A chill slides down my spine and press myself closer against Avery’s body, as though he could shield me. Trade one monster for another.

The door creaks open and Avery snaps out, “Shut the door.”

“But—”

“I’m busy,” Avery cuts him off. “Go bother someone else.”

“Sir, I’m looking for a girl.”

Avery lets out an exaggerated sigh and tightens his grip around me. “Aren’t we all?”

There’s a beat of silence before Eugene speaks again. His voice is laced with suspicion. “You have nothing in your office?”

“Nope. Suggest you look elsewhere.”

Eugene hesitates for a moment before his footsteps retreat down the hall.

Avery’s fingers tighten in my hair when he forces me to look up at him. His voice comes out low. “What did he do to make you react like this?”

I try to shake my head, but his grip doesn’t let me. “This isn’t a story I want to keep repeating.”

He runs his nose along my throat again, inhaling deeply. “You’ve told others?”

“I’ve never told anyone, except the one person who guessed right.”

His lips curve into a smile against my skin. “Sounds like a fun game. Did he hurt you?”

“Not physically…yet.”

His grip tightens at the last part, and he lets go of my hair when I squeak. He lets out a slow exhale. His handtrails to my jaw and tilts it up. “Did he hurt someone you cared about?”

My throat tightens. “Yes.”

“A lover?” His expression hardens and his eyes turn ice cold. In this light, I can make out the pale blue that sends a shiver down my spine.

I huff. “Why is that always the first assumption? Fuck, can’t anyone have a brother anymore?”

“A brother, then. He not only hurt him, but he killed him, didn’t he?”

I nod, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over. “His only crime was saving my life.”

The change in his expression is subtle but telling. His grip tightens for a moment before he smooths my hair behind my ear. “Protecting you is never a crime. I might need to have a word with Eugene.”

My fingers stretch out along the desk behind him until they wrap around the handle, and I pull the knife up. Before I can do anything with it, he grabs my wrist again.

Then he smiles, unbuttons his shirt, and moves my hand so the tip of the knife presses against his bare chest, right over his heart. “What are you doing?”

“Go on. Cut me if you want. I’m not stopping you.”

My hesitation is enough.

He tilts his head. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to see how quickly I can bleed out?”

He applies pressure and moves my hand across his chest, so a few drops appear along the blade. “What are you doing?”

“What’s the matter? You can do all those fun things to others, but not to me?”

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