Page 155 of Midnights
I lean in closer, studying every detail.
The dagger couldn’t possibly be connected to mine, could it?
I tear my gaze from the weapon, looking back up at the man. His stare feels like it’s anchoring me in place. The longer I stare at him, the stronger the pull grows. It’s a recognition I can’t explain.
Then, the scent of mint and pine hits me.
I take in a deep breath, and the crisp, woodsy scent weaves through the musty smell of old books. I scan the room, expecting to find someone nearby, but I’m still alone.
A shiver races down my spine, and my breath catches in my throat. I glance back at the painting, half-expecting something to have shifted.
Calm down, Raven. You’re overthinking.
I take a step back, forcing myself to steady my breathing.
My gaze drifts back to the woman. There's a crown resting on her head that’s both delicate yet strangely alive. Vines curl through her hair, with a serpent, poised to strike.
My brows furrow as I lean in, fascinated. There’s an inscription beneath the painting, but the words are barely legible in this lighting.
I squint, trying to make out what it says, when I hear a sound. A faint shuffle somewhere in the library.
Shit. I can’t get caught in here. The last thing I need is to get kicked out of a ball. How embarrassing would that be?
Straightening, my breath hitches. The shadows between the towering shelves seem to stretch wider, pressing in around me.
I scan the space, but I see nothing. Still, I can feel it.
The weight of unseen eyes prickles against my skin, and I can feel it in the air, humming with something.
Well, guess that means it’s time to go.
I look around the corner, making sure the coast is clear.
I hear a low, urgent whisper that snakes down my body like ice.
“Raven.”
I freeze. Every muscle locks as I spin, scanning the shadows behind me. Nothing. The library remains still, pressing in like a held breath.
“Raven, open your eyes.”
My pulse pounds in my ears and I know the chill crawling over my skin isn’t from the draft.
“Hello?” I keep my voice quiet, but it barely carries beyond the shelves.
No answer, but the weight in my chest tightens, warning me to move.
I don't hesitate. Turning on my heel, I quickly retrace my steps, slipping back through the doors. The second I step into the ballroom, warmth crashes into me, and I realize just how cold the library was. The hum of conversation, the music, the flicker of candlelight, all of it is a jarring contrast to the quiet unease that still lingers in my bones.
My pulse slows as I look around the room for Rachel.
I spot her near the table, her dress catching the light like liquid fire, making her impossible to miss. Relief flutters in my chest, and I make my way to her.
Then I see him, cutting through the room like a blade.
Every movement is effortless. The dark fits him and the sharp lines of his mask only adds to the dangerous allure he wears so well. The crowds parts instinctively as he moves, but he doesn't acknowledge them.
His eyes are on me.
