Page 87 of Salem's Fall
The world blurs at the edges, melting away into nothing. There is no danger, no Veil, no past, no future. Only this.
Only us.
When we finally break apart, my breath is uneven, my heart racing. His forehead rests against mine for a lingering moment, like he’s grounding himself, like neither of us are quite ready to let go.
“Um, I should probably… lie down.” I gulp, my legs wobbly, my brain all fuzzy from that kiss and struggling to catch up. “Maybe sleep. Like Maddie. That sounds… smart.”
There’s a heat in his eyes that makes me feel breathless.
“Sleep? No, I don’t think so.”
He takes my hand, leading me up the stairs and through the grand hallways, their twists and turns like a maze, until we reach a heavy door at the corridor’s end. He turns the knob and steers me toward the threshold, but it’s not the bedroom I stayed in when I was last here at Blackthorn Manor.
It’shis.
A sharp, dizzying heat rushes through me as he ushers me inside, every nerve in my body on fire. The scent of cedar and woodsmoke lingers in the air, wrapping around me like something tangible, something inescapable.
The room is enormous, its sheer scale making me feel small. Tall, arched windows let in slivers of starlight, casting long silver shadows across the dark wood floors. Heavybookcases line the walls, their shelves filled with worn leather volumes, artifacts, and things I can’t quite make sense of in the dim glow. And at the center of it all—his bed.
It’s the biggest bed I’ve ever seen, draped in dark, decadent fabrics that look soft enough to float away on. I turn to face him, my heart pounding. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that makes my chest ache, a softness that I didn’t think he was capable of. He reaches out, his fingers brushing my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore, James,” he whispers. “You’re mine now. And I don’t let anyone touch what’s mine.”
His mouth claims mine in another kiss, this one deep, possessive, and fierce—like he’s branding me, sealing something unspoken and unbreakable between us. One hand fists in my hair, the other wrapping firmly around my waist as he draws me against him, bodies aligning like a puzzle only we can solve.
He walks me backward, slowly, deliberately, until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. His mouth never leaves mine—hungry, reverent, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of me. He lifts me without warning, his hands gripping the backs of my thighs as he hoists me up against him. I gasp, arms circling his shoulders, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His strength is effortless, commanding—and for one breathless second, I feel completely and utterly possessed.
Then he tosses me onto the bed, not rough, but with a dark sort of hunger, his body following mine a heartbeat later. His mouth finds mine again, deeper this time, and the weight of him above me steals every thought but one—him. All of him.
The world outside fades, swallowed by the shadows of Blackthorn Manor, until there is nothing left but him.
Us.
In this moment, I don’t care if the Veil still lingers in the dark, waiting. I don’t care what Lucien wants or what unfinished dangers may still hunt us. I don’t even care about Damien’s secrets, no matter how deep, how dark, how terrible they may be.
Because whatever comes next, whatever horrors still lie ahead, I know I won’t be facing them alone anymore.
Boston, Massachusetts
December 1 (Eleven Months Until Halloween)
The quiet, comfortable hum inside the walls of Whitehall & Rowe feels almost surreal, the thick glass windows of the building holding back the roar of the Boston streets below like a barrier between the rest of the world and me. I never thought I’d be so relieved to be back in my office, the smell of old, dusty files and printer ink surrounding me. Outside, people are just beginning their Saturday mornings, walking dogs and going on coffee runs. I got in early today to get some work done, but I won’t be staying late.
Not like I used to.
One thing I’ve realized these past few weeks is that there are other things more important than my career. Like friends. Like family. I’ve promised myself a night out on the town tonight and plan to meet Katie and Maddie for “girls’ night” at Maddie’s favorite restaurant. I don’t feel guilty about it anymore, like I used to, or like I should be doing anything else with my time.
Lucky curls himself underneath my desk, his soft, rhythmic purring echoing in the quiet office. I smile and reach down to scratch him behind the ears. He’s been superdramatic with separation anxiety ever since we got back from Salem’s Fall. He’s like my little shadow, following me around the house and even sneaking into my work bag in the hopes I’ll take him to the office with me. Today, I gave in, knowing we’ll be out of here well before any of the partners show up later.
The letter to the District Attorney I’ve been working on sits on my laptop screen, almost finished. My hand trembles as my fingers hover over the keys. It’s a formal statement of “new evidence,” presenting what we’ve uncovered in Damien’s case, tying the Veil to the murder of Damien’s fiancée, and clearing him of all charges. If all goes well, I’ll be working on my father’s appeal next, representing him pro bono to get him released from prison based on what I’ve uncovered about the Veil’s illegal activities and involvement in my mother’s death. Quinn and the firm have already given me their full blessing.
Each word I type feels charged. The weight of everything I’ve uncovered these past few weeks presses down on me like a layer of fog. It turns out that Damien and Lucien were both telling the truth. Neither of them had played a role in the prior sacrifices of Damien’s fiancée or the other murdered women, nor were they responsible for the death of their father, Ian Blackhollow. It had been the Veil all along—at least, a small faction of it—pulling the strings. I’m optimistic that once the DA’s office looks into things, they’ll be able to put the pieces together and release Damien of all charges. He’ll be a free man any day now.
Free, but not innocent.
I’m not a fool. I know it’s entirely possible he has Mark’s blood on his hands—in some manner—and who knows how many others I’ll never know about. Then again, Damien never claimed to be a good man, just not a man that hurts the people he truly cares about. He’s still dangerous. Possibly a killer, and who knows what else…
I know I should move on, but try as I might, my complicated feelings for Damien Blackhollow won’t go away no matter how much distance I put between us. When I close my eyes, I can still see him. His face half-cast in shadows. His touch lingering like a ghost. The haunting way he looked at me when I told him I had to leave Salem’s Fall and didn’t know if I would—or could—ever see him again.
