You are lying. Poorly,Belfry informed me, smug and happy. He was enjoying this far too much. It was his fault anyway; if he hadn’t told me about the nosy human near the library, I never would have gone down to confront her.
I sighed, because I knew what a big, fat lie that was. “I am merely ensuring she does not cause trouble.” That was another lie, but this one Belfry let pass only because he had a juicier tidbit to jump on.
Oh yes. You’re ensuring this by staring at her window every five minutes. Of course, that’s perfectly reasonable.He pointed that out with a flap of his wing, then scuttled quickly to the side when I snapped my fangs his way.
I turned away from the glass, jaw tightening. She wasn’t there anyway, and her light had been turned off. “Enough,” I said, as much to him as to myself. Enough of this nonsense, enough obsessing.
Belfry snuggled smugly into my collar.Oh, Luther. You’re doomed. But it’s going to be so fun to watch.I said nothing; there was nothing to say, not when the truth sat heavy and uninvited in my chest, blooming like fire from a spark I had not intended to strike.
Chapter 6
Jade
Despite the warm yellow glow of my bedroom and the comforting swoop of the crocheted blanket at my feet, I went to bed with that prickling sensation under my skin again, the firm, unsettling certainty of being watched. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. There was nobody in here, and it was too dark outside to make out much at all. An unsettling dark, actually; it was never this dark in the city. I double-checked the curtains and tugged them tight, as if that would keep out whatever my imagination was conjuring.
I slipped into bed and tried to focus on the good, the exciting. Tomorrow, I would step into a forgotten library and start waking it up again. My mind spun with ideas: cataloging strategies, emergency preservation protocols, which books would need immediate temperature control, which needed rebinding, and which ones I could safely leave for later. My heart thumped with the same stubborn thrill I always got when facing a good challenge.
I was going to save that library, I was going to do something meaningful, and maybe, just maybe, shove my success in my jerk ex’s face one day. That thought settled warmly in my chest, and with it, I drifted into sleep.
Sweet Dreams Guaranteed, the B&B earned its name. My dreams started soft, sweet, like sunlight filtering through dust motes. I was in the restored library, shelves sparkling with polished wood and carefully preserved books. The mayor of thesmall town was with me, smiling brightly, gray curls bouncing and her bangles clattering as she clapped my shoulder. My recommendation letter was glowing, absolutely glowing; it was practically dripping with praise. My ex, that smug, backstabbing librarian back in Boston, looked on in speechless envy.
Then the scene shifted, subtly at first. The light dimmed, and the shelves stretched into shadowed walls that smelled like night air and old stone. A garden unfurled, lush and dark, under a velvet sky while a cool wind brushed my neck. Against my legs, tall weeds stroked like long, sensual fingers, and lavender and bergamot scented the air.
A voice spoke from behind me, low, rich, and sinful in its precision.You thrive in the dark, Jade Whitaker.A hand grazed my hip, just a suggestion of touch, like the ghost of contact more than anything real. My breath caught.I wonder,the voice continued, slipping around me like cold silk,what else you might discover here… if you let yourself.
Glacial eyes appeared in the shadows, ice heating into silver fire. Those eyes seemed to cling to me in a caress far more potent than that ghostly touch on my hip. I knew those eyes, but I had never seen them heat with that kind of passion. His mouth was lush, curling into a half-smile that promised all kinds of temptation. Luther… I startled awake with a sharp inhale.
The room was filled with soft morning sunlight, warm as butter on toast. For a moment, I lay still, blinking up at the ceiling, confused and very… warm. Why had my subconscious chosen that for a dream? Why the voice? The shadows? Why him?
I sat up, cheeks burning. Nope, I was so not going there; absolutely not revisiting that. I washed my face, changed into a soft, comfortable, ankle-length skirt and a cozy sweater, then marched downstairs, armed with denial.
The smell of bacon, pancakes, and freshly brewed tea drifted through the living room. Gwen stood at the stove in the kitchen, her hair in a loose braid and an apron that said, “Good Vibes Only, Which Are Mandatory.” “Morning, sweet pea!” she chirped. “Sleep well?” She looked far too awake this early, and I wondered how many cups of Earl Grey she’d already consumed.
“Yes!” I said too quickly, so quickly I practically squeaked; there was no way that wasn’t suspicious. Gwen’s eyebrows lifted, her look full of curiosity. I brushed over the moment by hurrying to her side, skirt swishing, and took the plate she’d filled for me from her hands.
“Any dreams?” she asked, just as I thought I had gotten away with it. I landed rather ungracefully in my seat, the plate clattering onto the table from numb fingers. The stack of pancakes did a precarious slide to the edge of the plate, but managed to stay on by some miracle.
I nearly choked on air. “Um, just… library dreams.” Library dreams? Really? That was my answer? I couldn’t be more transparent, and I rushed to stuff a bite into my mouth so I wouldn’t be expected to say more. Library dreams… it wasn’t even a lie; I had dreamed about the library—about one pair of very blue eyes and things I didn’t want to contemplate. Ever.
Gwen gave me just enough time to think she’d let it drop, stacking her own plate carefully before sitting down at thekitchen table across from me. The amount of bacon she’d coated in maple syrup was impressive. Then she grinned, and it was the kind of grin that suggested she knew exactly what I wasn’t saying. “Good ones?”
I grabbed my plate and fled to the counter, pretending the bacon required all my attention. I stacked it just as she had on her plate and had already poured the syrup before I recalled that I didn’t like maple syrup on my bacon. “They were… dreams.”
“Mmhmm,” she hummed, her knife scraping against her plate as she cut her pancakes with precision. “Dreams can tell you a lot.” She flicked her knife toward the front door, probably indicating the pretty sign outside that promised sweet dreams for every visitor of the B&B. I focused very hard on the syrup I didn’t even want.
Thankfully, she dropped it after that, only offering me a mysterious smirk that seemed to indicate more than it should. We chatted lightly about the plans for the day, my inventory, her deliveries, the mayor’s afternoon meeting, until I felt composed again. Ready. Professional.
Armed with a key to the library, the folder of plans from Grandma Liz, and my bag full of supplies, I stepped outside into the crisp morning air and froze. A shadow detached itself from the library’s massive double doors. It was a tall, dark silhouette; a man. Not just any man: Luther.
He slid into full view like he’d been carved from the very absence of light: elegant black coat, posture immaculate, expression unreadable. The morning sun didn’t seem to touch him so much as acknowledge him cautiously. His hair was shoulder-lengthand had this elegant wave to it, as if it wanted to lightly drape around him. His eyes were the only light point in the shadows cast onto his face, glacial ice, pale and bright. “You are late,” he said.
I almost tripped over my own feet. “I...it’s eight-thirty,” I sputtered. “We didn’t even set a time.” In fact, we hadn’t agreed to anything at all. He was the one who vanished in a puff of smoke yesterday; mysterious, like this whole freaking town seemed to be. Goosebumps rose along my skin as I began crossing the empty street. The last thing I wanted was to spend more time with this guy, and here he was, berating me for being late to an appointment that existed only in his head.
He lifted an eyebrow, and I had this creeping feeling that he knew exactly what I was thinking; knew it, and didn’t care. “I assumed you would arrive at sunrise. The library demands discipline.” Who wakes up at sunrise for cataloging? I mean, okay, I might have, but that was beside the point. I was a workaholic with no hobbies and no life; I’d left that all in the dust when I left Boston for this job. A job that would hopefully salvage what remained of my tattered reputation, but I was definitely not telling him that.
He stepped out of the shadow fully and my breath hitched before I could stop it. God, he was… something. Tall, lean sin and perfection wrapped in tailored clothing. His hair was dark as spilled ink, subtly tied back today. His skin glowed faintly honey-toned even in the chill air, and those storm-gray eyes—cold, assessing—fixed on me like he was trying to solve an especially difficult puzzle.
He didn’t look human; not exactly. There was a stillness to him, like the world moved around him but he didn’t move unless he chose to. A grounded sort of silence tugged at your attention whether you liked it or not. And his presence, he felt like standing too close to a live wire. Beautiful. Dangerous. Charged. It was very tempting to reach out and touch, despite knowing you’d get zapped for your effort.
